In Between

When I first moved in with Joe I was highly invested in my lingerie collection. Pinks and blues, silks and laces. Each was its own romantic piece of art. As it turns out, I didn’t wear them much. I prefer a pair of Joe's boxer briefs and a paint-splattered tank top.

Watching a myriad of sit-coms, Joe has worked himself into an anxious state about what seems like the inevitable lack-luster marriage. I, on the other hand, think that there is something wonderful in the space between the lingerie and the boxer-briefs. It’s peace, consistency, confidence and comfort. In many ways, I think that that space is just as meaningful, if not more, than the space between lips or palms.

I think it’s in that unique space where true love lies, the unending familial-type love that asks nothing in return. Personally, I relish in these moments of peace when I am not worried about my hair or my thighs. Joe worries about eventually loss of lust and connectivity. Ironically, it is in the peaceful space that he has the most of me.