Boots and Sex

Not that they go together necessarily, but they are the two themes of my stories tonight.

Today, I bought a fabulous pair of boots. I went to my favourite shoe shop in the early hours of this afternoon. I had been to the butcher to buy AdventureBoy his meat for the weekend (I don't actually eat meat, so it really is a great public service that I even walk into a butcher shop for him!) and really needed to go and look at some shoes.

That urge doesn't actually hit me too often, so I decided to go (knowing that the meat would be safe today in my car on this 13 degree C day. I was, of course, looking for something in black but came upon the most gorgeous pair of knee-high brown (red-brown really) leather boots with a lace-up back. As I have quite narrow calves, most of this style of boot looks fairly ridiculous on me - like I've been playing dress-ups in my mother's wardrobe. But the laces on these ones allowed me to pull them in nice and tight and they looked fabulous. I couldn't help myself. Especially when they told me that their 30% off sale was starting that moment in the store! So I got $125 off the original price and stressed only momentarily about how I was going to explain to AdventureBoy that I had bought brown boots instead of black.

Oh well.

Boys will never understand the lure of fabulous shoes.

Or boots for that matter.

Due to aforementioned skinny calves, this is the first pair of knee-highs I've ever owned (except for a pair when I was about 8). As you might be able to tell, I'm very excited.

Which (kind of) leads to the second part of tonight's story. Sex. When I showed my boots to AdventureBoy while he was scrubbing potatoes for tonight's dinner, he decided that they were almost CFM boots (a fairly crass acronym, if you're unfamiliar with it) and then hugged me, thanking me for what had happened last night.

Just for an aside, I told him that they were definitely NOT CFM boots as they had completely flat heels.

Last night, for the first time since the beginning of March ... and for the first time in 1 1/2 years that it hasn't has any other motive ... we had sex. I had almost forgotten how beautiful it could be. We haven't kissed like that for so long and to feel so loved and held, not pressured and anxious, was almost too hard. It was more than sex. It was that old cliche of love. And afterwards, we held each other and cried.

Tears of sorrow and love and remembering and future. Tears of hope and peace and fear and maybe. They were tears that spoke of forever and we fell asleep wrapped in each others arms.

We have not done that for years.

I am sure I have said that I love this boy. Tonight we were reliving some of his adventures - the ones that make him AdventureBoy - and he tried to remember how to say funny things to me in French. He lived and skied and worked for 6 years every winter in France (a big thing for an Aussie boy) and travelled and waterskied and sailed and played during the summers.

Sometimes, I am really envious of those times. That life he had before he even knew me. When he was young and free and never knew (or cared) about his future.

Tonight: can we go and live there for a year?

Him: sure!
Always up for adventure.

He lived in a small resort town called Meribel. We went there for our honeymoon and it was such a fabulous experience to be welcomed into the heart of this place - oh, you're AdventureBoy's wife. Come and have a drink and we'll tell you some of his stories. He'd told me most of them, of course, but it was still great to hear them again. He took me to show me where he had climbed treacherous mountains and broken his back on a jump. We went to his favourite restaurant (which was still there) and drank the local drink. I, of course, preferred the champagne, but I humoured him. I lost so much weight that week, just following him around the mountains, revisiting his past.

And then he was ready to settle. When we returned home he was ready. And I was restless.

But I gave it away and decided on this future.

I'm still waiting.

I would have been so ready then to stay there. To keep travelling and exploring and having adventures of my own. To make up for my lost years - the years of my 20s when I was married to the wrong one and focused on study and then my job to keep me fulfilled. It never really worked and it all ended when I was 30.

I am glad that it ended because I would have never met my AdventureBoy. I am glad I listened to him because I would have kept waiting thinking everything would be fine. That my fertility would wait for me. That I could decide that I looked young, therefore everything else was young as well. I could have been much further into more adventures before I even started to look.

I suppose this is all kind of like a bit of an adventure. Not like the kind which you usually associate with fun and excitement, but an adventure nonetheless. I certainly experiencing and learning new things.

I am waiting for my period. I think I have had myself a bit fooled this week, thinking that it was coming. I don't feel like it this weekend at all. My temperatures seemed to indicate that it was on its way - but nothing. I just want it to come so I can feel like everything is back on track again.

But I said I wouldn't go there tonight.

So I won't. I have finished my reports and I have a long weekend. It's raining and cold (which I love by the way) and I have fabulous new boots. And an AdventureBoy who loves me and hope in my heart.

Thanks for listening.
Goodnight.