We've made it to the 17-year mark and no, it hasn't been the fairytale I envisioned. I look at a friend who just got married and see the look of excitement, undeniable chemistry and blissful love he has for the woman who is his wife and I miss those feelings.
I want that chemistry that's so intense it can be transmitted non-verbally, through just a lingering look or a brush of my cheek. I want to look at my husband and not immediately think "Wait, is he wearing the same shirt he wore the past two days? Did he remember to fix the leaky faucet?"
Of course when I tell my husband these things he tells me to "stop watching the Bachelor and movies like The Notebook." I get it-- we have these Hollywood-style endings and scripts written into our socialization as little girls, that we'll meet a man who will be our soulmate, our person with whom we will live out our days which will culminate with us sitting on a porch swing drinking lemonade as our grandchildren crowd around our sagging ankles.
OK clearly I have viewed one too many a Norman Rockwell painting because I have yet to see a porch swing and I don't think I've ever drank a glass of lemonade.
I also look at my husband and while I still see the man I fell in love with 17 years ago, I'm missing those butterflies. Don't get me wrong I love him desperately -- he's my best friend -- the man to whom I tell all my secrets, the one who has seen me push a six and a half pound baby from my lady parts, the one who held my hand as the doctor made my C-section incision.
Maybe it's our experiences that keep us together and the fact that we're raising two kids, but the passion, that I want to rip your clothes off and when I look at you everyone else fades away, well it is fading. And it makes me wonder, is it natural to stay with the same person forever?
This post originally appeared on Married My Sugar Daddy