Marriage is Forever

It was the way he walked, the way his strong masculine legs moved with every stride. It was the walk of a strong, robust distinguished man. It was sexy and appealing. He has watched him walk in that wet, gloomy evening, and even beneath that stylish fitting overcoat, he had seen that walk, he had watched those legs move, slowly, parted at the thigh with a slight spring in the sole. He was still a stranger then, tall, dark and strikingly handsome. His dark eyes piercing to the soul, his face chiselled, his perfect teeth brilliantly white as he spoke softly on the cellular phone. He was one of those men you ached and desired for yet you knew he simply was out of your reach. So it came as a surprise at first when, in the first few minutes be took a keen interest on his secret admirer. And when he moved close to speak to him, his cologne filled up his nostrils, he was a clean well groomed man, whose scent left one longing for more conversation, more touching, that first night, he could hardly wait to breath in the scent of his skin. From that very first day, they both knew that they would be together, they were bound to be. He, an alpha male and him on the other hand, a sexy,  quiet, clever yet submissive, humble,  home maker. That is how they met, at a sultry quiet gentleman's lounge bar.

He knew at once that this man was the one. Now 6 years on, he couldn't help but wonder, would this man, whom he had given up all else for, stay with him the full length of the way? He was not naive to the ways of men, they objectify, their need to conquer, they want what they cannot get, they see what they want to see. He was no different from any other man, yet he had fallen for him still, full and square. It was a mystery, this thing called love. He tossed and turned, grabbing the silk sheets, hoping and wishing for comfort on yet another cold lonely night.

He had the front door open and his heart skipped a beat. From where he lay, in the big plush bed upstairs, he could hear every movement, it was obvious to him now, it was routine. He could hear a deep low voice speaking, it was a telephone conversation. No doubt the recipient needed reassuring that his beloved had arrived home safely. But was it really home, or was it a prison for them both? He because he was bored, lonely and unhappy and he because he was the excitement had long run out and the sparks of seduction fizzled out. He could not tell, for now, as his lover, friend and life partner strode in, inconsiderately flicking on the lights as he bid whomever he was speaking to goodbye, all he could do was close his eyes and pretend to be deep asleep. Running water, unbuttoning of the creased once crisp shirt, kicking off of the expensive Italian leather shoes, unbuckling of the belt, unzipping of the pants, a brush of the covers and then a soft, tender kiss on the cheek; magic! Another heart beat lost, then silence.

The tear crept slowly down, past his nose, onto his eyelid. It burned memories into his heart as he remembered the passion that they had for each other in the beginning. Where had they lost it? Could it be true? Was there really no love between two men and if that was so, why were they still together? Surely, something kept them together or was it just the convenience of familiarity? He had grown up hearing stories of frozen and dead romances, but he had assumed it only happened to heterosexual couples. Heavy breathing, sleep. He turned and tried to gaze at his husband through the dim shimmers of the moonlight. Did he really love this man? If he did, why could he not make him as happy as they used to be? A sigh escaped his lips, his better half stirred and as if reading his mind, turned toward him and took him in his arms, holding him close, as he placed his head on his chest.

'why aren't you asleep baby?' his voice was dreary, but it still held its characteristic deepness.

 He soon fell asleep after, while he on the other hand lay there softly, comfortable at last, happy even. It was where he belonged, oh the lord himself knew it. It was where he belonged. Sleep finally came upon him, and like a chariot, swept him up towards bliss, up to a place where all that he needed was this man and his sweet, sweet loving.

Thursday, his favorite day of the week. The only time, he got some semblance of a social life. Other than Ricardo's office soirée which were few and rare and even there he had to act like a robot. His close friends Mali and Solange were coming over. They would pop open a bottle of choice champagne and delve into delicious gossip, all the while nibbling on scrumptious shrimp cakes and lady fingers. They always made him feel so privileged, he was after all, living a charmed life. If only he too saw it that way. Mali and her husband owned a business together, they worked so hard they barely had time to start a family. Yet they a brilliant business association and an awe inspiring chemistry between them. They were always together, yet they always made it seem like they never spend enough time with each other. As he lay the table expertly, he could not help but wonder, how did they keep the fire burning? What was the source of their love?

Solange was a newly widowed, she had gotten married around the same time as Ricardo and himself. They had met at what would end up being the venue of both their nuptials. Their dates coincided, and he had schemed and found a way to arrange a lunch date with her, by the time they finished a delectable and tender honey glazed lamb and spring salad, she had graciously agreed to have her wedding the weekend after. It was the beginning of a lifelong friendship. She and William, her new husband had been part of the guests, beaming with pride as they exchanged vows. Everything had turned out perfectly, until William past away in a tragic accident and Ricardo changed. Before then, they always met for lunch once a week, shopped and hosted charity galas' together. When William died, she was left to pick up where he left off in taking care of their three year old twins, an adorable boy and girl. For a girl who envisioned being a housewife and mother as a life long commitment, she was not doing too badly, although she had struggled in the beginning.

He could hardly wait to hear that bell ring. His heart was already chiming.

Later that afternoon, after the girls left, as he dutifully prepped that nights dinner, shepherds pie and rhubarb crumble for dessert, he painted a picture of what his life had become; the portrait only deepened the hollow in his heart. He had abandoned a promising career as a human rights and political lobbyist for a house and garden in the lush and lonely prairie. It wasn't like they were going to get children, they both agreed that it simply was not for them. Indeed they were lucky enough to live in a land where they could enjoy the gift if holy matrimony but children was a stretch too thin for them. With Ricardo's line of work, he continuing to work would only jeopardize things for him. Ricardo was also in politics, he was running for governor. Where had time flown to?

His phone rang, Ricardo, excusing himself from dinner, another long meeting at the office. Yeah yeah yeah, he didn't need telling, he knew what it meant to be campaigning, he had a masters in political science for chrissake. Fine, fine, he wouldn't wait up. Ricardo was sorry, you're always sorry was his response before hanging up with a pout.

He lay his bath and decided that it was time he found something more to do other than sit and wait for Ricardo. Maybe he could enrol for a Phd, but at his age and it wasn't like he was ever going to use it. Maybe he could teach, wait, why hadn't he ever thought of that?

An hour and a luxurious scented bath later, he walked into the closet and saw it. Lina must have been rearranging and left it out there. Hanging majestically there was their wedding suits, his black tuxedo, still so brilliant and his work of art next to it. He stood still, taking it all in, he had had a hand in designing this divine garment. It was a suit alright, but not of the usual fabric or style. Even Ricardo had been taken aback the first time he saw him walk down the aisle. He held up an arm to his face, letting the lace carress his cheek ever so softly. He closed his eyes and let the chimes of the bell ring in his ear again. He could smell the ocean and hear the chirrups of the seagulls over the sweet harp strings. But even in this decadent, fluid, lace over satin fitting top and bottom, over the white and pink orchids and the alluring calming scent of the elusive moonflower, it was the man that stood there ahead of him that was the highlight of his day, not even his distinguished, who's who guest list. Their hearts, still soaked in fiery romance and desire for one another had skipped several beats at that moment,  and their longing to be together heightened even more by the impending nuptials.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn't heard Ricardo come in. Ricardo stood there, watching quietly and keenly observing the changing expressions in his partner's face.

He watched for a moment before walking into the closet.

"English, are you ok?"

English opened his eyes startled, he looked up to find Ricardo's tall, imposing figure in front of him.

"I didn't hear you come in" he said, clearing his throat, "I'm sorry"

"for what English?"

"nothing, for being...well" he didn't know what to say, he was embarrassed for always being the needy one.

Ricardo offered him a hand, which he took and standing up at the aid of it.

"why aren't you asleep? It's late." His voice was low and full of care.

"I know you're angry and you feel neglected." there with those words, he started doing what only he could do so well. He started fixing everything, and English's misgivings all faded away.

They lay on the lawn and talked about everything. He poured out his heart, releasing all his frustrations while Ricardo listened and explained and made it all right again. There, on the soft grass, under the stars, they fell in love all over again. He forgave Ricardo, and he forgave himself, for doubting and for creating a rift.

This is why he loved this man so man, because he was the kind of man who was not afraid to make things right in order to claim what was rightfully his. Fearlessly, humbly yet decisively. That and the walk, and the love and the feverish lovemaking and the body and the mind, and everything about the man.

In the morning, as he peered down from the bedroom window at his husband, he realized that it was his mistake to compare their love with what everybody else had. Ricardo paused for a second and looked up, as if he had felt eyes on him, he flashed a smile and creased his brow. He understood him, it was he, English, who made the mistake of looking for a love that did not resonate with what they had. Theirs was no conventional, storybook arrangement. Neither was it a fairytale. What they had was as unique and extraordinary as two men falling hopelessly in love with each other and choosing to seal their love in holy matrimony. He saw now just how special Ricardo was, he was a man of his own kind.