We're getting older. Will her interest in sex wane after menopause? Will her ability to orgasm, or even have sex drop like a boulder from the edge of a cliff?
My obsession since a teen was looking at attractive women. I was looking at women in their twenties thirty five years ago, and I'm still doing it now. I fight against it with some help, thanks to the 12-step program. But as I shopped for a perfect body to 'consume visually' through porn, I have always been clocking and noting thin waists, nice shaped rears, etc. Same when in public as when browsing porn. As my ever-loving wife and saintly patient bride of 25 years gets older and larger and saggier, I geet angry at the growing difference between her and those twenty-something-year-olds' everywhere.
My ideal is to see beyond her sagging skin. My aim is to appreciate the women inside the flab and fat. The most satisfying lovemaking is face to face, connected and synchronized emotionally and even spiritually. I promised to have and to hold in sickness and health. While young and as we grow old together. I need to kill the fantasy that those young women hold the key to my happiness. That drinking in their youthful beauty will satisfy my thirst.
Cigarette packs have more explicit and shocking warnings trying to try to scare addicts away from killing themselves. The fountain of youth is a archetypical fantasy with a warning label saying, 'don't be tricked, you'll loose the life you have pursuing an immature hope for eternity'. See how enjoying the good (but imperfect) real life in front of us is smarter than throwing that away for an untouchable fantasy--like the allure of mermaids and the way they drive sailors to the rocks, to insanity, to their death.
These young women, in reality, are just women with their own flaws and humanity. They poo and menstruate and have their own insecurities and are selfish. Besides, they are going to be sagging and wider around the stomach in twenty years, like the rest of us all. Their beauty and youthfulness is just a snapshot in the never ending march of time.
I don't really want a younger wife. I don't really think sex with someone younger would satisfy or fix my problems. It's my midlife crisis and my sex obsession trying to get me to do something destructive. The ego screaming out in pain for a drug that won't satisfy the itch.
I really want to accept my amazingly loving bride, with her trajectory of ageing. I want to accept my fate that I'm in the last half of life and teen fantasies don't suit me anymore. Maturity means putting others first and I can do that, while I unsubscribe from this ego driven self absorbed fantasy channel that I've been running in my head since I was a teen.