Loving And Being In Love

I follow many blogs. A favorite, one of the astute FLR advocate bloggers who goes with the moniker, She's a wonderful wife, elaborates on love and being in love although not with the purpose of distinguishing between the terms. Among other things he says, “Just seems to me that people who are married should be in love to the point where doing things for your significant other is what makes you happy! Ever since we've been married, I've done things for her that I only did because I knew she liked it.“

I feel his genuine wanting to please his wife. It is great when long married people feel that way, rather than looking outside of marriage to fulfill their needs to love and to serve.

I was in love before I married my sweetheart. That feeling may have precipitated my committing to love and honor her in our subsequent marriage forever as long as we both shall live. I have kept that feeling, but there are other issues as we mature in a relationship. The all-powerful feeling of being in love is no longer a driving force in our life. Love is. We do things for each other out of genuine love whether it is a partner, children, or close friends. Those things range from mundane through tedious to unpleasant. The sexual favors are just the icing on the cake when it comes to doing it between committed partners.

I could live and die doing sexual favors for her. She turns me on just by her presence, and then some. I crave giving her pleasure in any way that she desires. However, I don’t equate that with love or even being in love. Most of that is lust; the rest is a willingness to trade my sexual service for some attention from her. Of course, I also get a tremendous thrill out of seeing her beauty, getting high on her pheromones, feeling her softness under my fingers, and tasting her on my lips and fingers long after our love session is over. Truly, that enjoyment is all wired in my DNA and beyond my ability to control even if I wanted to do so. But I don’t think that is love. It is more of an addiction.

I am not suggesting that she is just a sex object. She is precious, she is my life, and she is the reason for my being. I cannot truthfully say that about any other woman. I cannot imagine being happy without her. However, serving her sexually is just what I said. It fuels my need to be subservient to her, and there is no more private and sensual way than giving her what she wants under all circumstances. Whether she reciprocates is up to her. Her loving me is not questionable. Her willingness to do some things that I would like is. We get together from time to time, but in spite of the many words of explanation over the years, we are still missing some meaning. Why else would we not make each other perfectly happy all the time?