Like most married couple with children, weekends in our house are largely a series of repetitive routines. On Sundays I normally look after the kids in the morning whilst Jo gets some school work done. then in the afternoons, between sausage butties and a Sunday roast, I go sailing
Today with the weather being awful, I abandoned all thoughts of sailing and used my energy to join Jo in wading through the clutter that seems to prevent us from ever having a tidy bedroom. We were ruthless. Bag after bag of clothes left our wardrobe and just as we were congratulation ourselves on a job well done, something hit me that I wasn’t expecting. From the back of her wardrobe Jo pulled out a PVC nurses uniform and tossed it into the cast offs with a throw away line along the lines “I don’t need this any more”.
I was simultaneously heart broken and starry eyed in reminiscence.
On a practical level, getting rid of it made perfect sense. It was an abandoned item of clothing that no longer fitted Jo but at a sentimental level, it felt as though part of our lives was being discarded.
When me and Jo first met, we had a lot of sex. It was frequent, sometimes kinky and always an awful lot of fun. I remember going into Ann Summers in the Trafford centre and buying this dress with Jo.
Jo look stunning in it. Her breasts almost popping out and the dress was not quite long enough to cover her magnificent buttocks. My wife has always been a beautiful, sexy lady but this dress elevated to a sexual goddess.
I remember one Saturday when we were courting that I was about 5 minutes into watching the FA cup final between Liverpool and West Ham when Jo wandered into the lounge in this dress. I don’t remember the score but I won that day.
Eventually we got married and had 3 kids. After each child our sex live diminished until we reached our present status quo where I masturbate a lot and we have sex at the weekend if Jo has enough wine to relax and remind herself that she both quite likes it and is very very good at it. This dress has been gathering dust at the back of her wardrobe for more years than I care to count.
The paradox of the situation is I now love Jo more than I have ever done before. We have shared a journey that has taken us through the depths of emotion that no couple should ever have to share.
She has sacrificed her figure to bear me children and this in turn means I love her ample curves even more. With every stroke of her belly, I am reminded of her love for me. What can ever be sexier than that?
Of course, I am guilty of neglecting Jo. When love was fresh, I let her know she was the centre of my world by constant gestures of love. Now, I’m too easily grumpy and complacent. We take each other for granted, was it ever thus?
I suggested she wore the dress one more time for old times sake. Jo found this to be a ridiculous idea as simply would not fit. I followed this by suggesting I bought her a new one that would fit, this suggestion was quite rightly dismissed as ridiculous.
Our sex life is good but its infrequency is a selfish frustration to me. This dress is simply an object that that framed a memory of a time that we have both outgrown. I would give anything to make love to Jo in that dress again but if the price was to sacrifice what we have now, it deserves to take its place in the recycling. I only hope the people who open the charity bags at Oxfam are broad minded 🙂