Whenever I’m With My Boyfriend, My Husband Tags Along
My boyfriend allows space for my husband and I am awed by it.
My boyfriend and I went to the Van Gogh immersive exhibit the other day. There was an almost dizzying feeling the minute we walked in, like those virtual rides at Disneyland that make you feel off-balanced. We were happy to take a seat on one of the benches to steady ourselves, and watched sun flowers and irises flow like lava from the walls to the floor to the ceiling. The music swelled. I grabbed Luis’s hand, nuzzled into his dark, button-down shirt, our sneakers intertwined on the floor beneath us. We were waiting for something, a piece of information about Van Gogh, some factoid about his life, maybe when he started painting, or if he really cut off his own ear and if so, why?… but none ever came. A few minutes later, under a starry night, I came to a realization and whispered to my guy, “Do you think this is it?” He looked around. “I think so, baby.”
Now, I am not necessarily opposed to, nor do I advocate drug use (see my story on weed here) however if there ever was a time to take drugs, this would probably be it. But here we were, 2 middle aged love birds with nothing but our caffeine high to sustain us. Luis smiled at me, we suddenly giggled like kids caught talking in the library. He reached for my hand. “Come on,” he…
