by Anne Sawan

Created on: June 19, 2009   Last Updated: June 23, 2009

My friend Grace is getting remarried. She has been divorced for a number of years now and met a man about a year ago. When I asked her to describe her new beau to me she said he was "nice" and "kind." So they started dating. She introduced him to her kids, they approved and things moved along. This past weekend he took her out for a lovely dinner at a swanky Boston restaurant, gave her a beautiful bouquet of flowers and proposed. He is a "fine man" so she said yes.

Okay so "nice", "kind" and "fine" is what we have here. Not bad words. Not "mean," cold" or "abusive" but certainly not words that conjure up images of romance and passion. Grace told me over congratulatory cocktails the other night that things are "different when you meet a man in your late forties. The intensity of young love is just not there." I sucked down my Appletini and said, "You mean that sweet, sexual tension that drives you into the backseat of your father's car on a steamy summers evening, coiled around each other like two snakes writhing together as the internal temperature of the car rises reaching a sweltering level of potential dangerous proportions, is, is ...gone?" She laughed. I gestured to the waiter for another drink (quick!) and continued, "The butterflies in your stomach that appear every time you see him, the disappointment you feel when he doesn't call, the ache of separation as you kiss goodnight one last time on the porch, has well, dissipated?" Grace took a small sip from her martini, and smiled patiently, "This type of love is different," she explained, "It's more...mature and less intense. Surely you can't expect to feel those same crazy feelings you had in your twenties? Why it is too exhausting and we would all surely be dead in a short time if we attempted it," she cautioned. I nodded as I tried my best to appear more mature. "Sure, sure" I murmured in false agreement "Sounds nice and kind and fine." Under my breath, my mouth hidden by newly refreshed drink, I muttered, "and boring."

Now granted, I am lucky. I am happily married to the same man for twenty years. I have never been divorced or widowed and I hope I never am, but should the day come when we are separated for whatever reason I hope, I pray that I never settle for this "mature love." Call me naive or call me selfish, but I want it all! I want the excitement, the craziness, thestomach flops and the heart racing and if this means an untimely death then so be it. That is what love should feel like, young

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