• Things I Should Warn You About

shenrydafrankmann

~ Hopeful honesty from simple sentences

shenrydafrankmann

Tag Archives: middle age

Stupid Is As Stupid Does

14 Wednesday Jun 2017

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Humour, life, middle age, mountain biking

I hate it when my actions exceed the threshold of stupidity.

Shut up… it’s not a daily, hourly, or every minute of my life occurrence.

One of the necessities of riding a bicycle, especially when riding off road, is being prepared for a flat tire.  There are some who avoid that unpleasant experience with tubeless tires, but I am not a tubeless guy (I like my tube) so I still need to carry a spare tube, patch kit, and CO2 inflator with me when I ride.  When riding my mountain bike, I have all I need stashed in plastic bags, tucked inside my hydration pack.. right next to the baggie of folded toilet paper.

Sunday morning, I decided to venture to the trails for a BCD (butt crack of dawn) ride.  It was going to be a sweltering, humid day, thus necessitating an early ride while it was still relatively cool.  As I unloaded my bike at the trailhead, the birds chirped merrily around me, greeting me in my revelry.  This was going to be a great ride, I just knew it.  True to expectations, my body felt fantastic as I zipped up the first trail, strong and good-for-me fast.  My warm up always takes me from the front of the park to the back, roughly a mile to a water crossing that leads to a nice, challenging loop of trails.  I got to the water crossing FAST.

The water crossing was a little deep.  Hikers have been damming it up, probably so they don’t get their dainty little feet damp as they cross.  Mountain bikers, who build and maintain the trails in the park, have been removing the dams.  Back and forth, build and tear down.  It has been a dam war.  When I came to the top of the drop into the water crossing, I noticed that the hikers had built yet another little dam.  Confident that the water wasn’t too deep, I swooped down the trail and into the water, my elbow wet as the water splashed around my bicycle.

*Fssssssshhhhhht fssssssshhhhhttttttt fsssssshhhhtttt*

Oh ssssssshhhhhtttttt.  A front flat.  The hikers must have been fighting back, booby trapped the crossing.  No worries, it was a front tire flat and I had my kit with me.  I removed the wheel, whipped the tube out of the tire, took out the spare tube, replaced it, inflated the tire with CO2.

*Fsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhttttttttttttttttttttttttt*

Crud.  I thought I had inspected the tire for the cause of the puncture.  I was out of luck since I only had one CO2 cartridge and one spare tube.  I replaced the wheel, carried my bike the mile or so back to my car.  Shucks.  The birds all pooped on me as I got back to my car, blew raspberries as they flew away.

Sunday afternoon, at home, I decided to fix the flat tire.  As I pulled the punctured tube out of the tire, a thought struck me.

Is it possible that I had put the same tube, the punctured tube, back in the tire that morning?

Intrigued, I pulled the tube I had put back in my hydration pack.  It looked new and unused.

I now have a large hand print on my forehead.

 

 

Old Man and the Pee

18 Friday Nov 2016

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

media, middle age, music, personal, stuff

I should be able to end this blog at the title.  It is an inspired title, one that simply came to me hour after hour one night while I tried to sleep.

OK.  Enough pee talk.  One benefit of sleeping with a CPAP is that night pees are no longer an issue.  As soon as that mask goes on, I don’t wake or stir (that I know of.. no family member has accused me of standing over their bed trying to stab them with a toothbrush.. at least not lately).

8fI was thinking nostalgic thoughts today.  In my office, I use Google Play on my phone, and the album choice of the moment was Journey’s ‘Infinity’ album.  As ‘Wheel in the Sky’ was playing, I realized that I was waiting to hear a KA-CHUNK and momentary pause at a certain point in the song.

♫♫Oh the wheel in the sk…. ka-chunk…(silence) keeps on turning♫♫

‘Infinity’ was one of the four eight track tapes that I had in my first car, a lovely red and rusty 1972 Plymouth Duster (or Ruster as it became known).  Whether it was REO Speedwagon (You Can Tune A Piano But You Can’t Tuna Fish), Ted Nugent or the Doobie Brothers, I now have permanent ka-chunk embedded in my mind for songs from those eight tracks.  Who could forget the rocking ‘Unidentified Flying kachunk Turkey Trot’?  I know I can’t.

Of course, there were those days where the tape became stuck between tracks.  kachunk kachunk kachunk kachunk kachunk… and the tape couldn’t be ejected from fear of the pinched tape come flying out of the case.  I learned how to repair an eight track tape by cutting the tape where it had pinched, then holding it together with a small piece of Scotch tape.  Of course, that means that there are lyrics that I don’t know because that portion of tape was missing.

♫She musters a smile for his nostalgic tale… What a fool belieeeeeeeeves♫

Ahhhhh, those were the days.

The eight track player was one of the upgrades I added to my magnificent Plymouth.  My car came with black cloth seats, no air conditioning, and an AM radio.  In order to be a proper cruiser, the Duster needed a kicking stereo.  I added box Pioneer speakers and a Pioneer eight track stereo that was inserted into a slide mount under the dash.  It wasn’t like one of those sub woofer systems in some cars these days, the kind that practically stop my heart if I am next to one at a stop light, but my Pioneer system was pretty cool for its day.

Heck, I was such a chick magnet that I needed make out music.  AM radio did not cut it.

Then I graduated to cassette.  Oh the tales of woe I have.  How many weeks did I go with a tape stuck in the player until I finally gave the tape last rites and ripped it out of the player?  Many.  So many.

 

The Elixer of the Pedals

06 Sunday Nov 2016

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

bike, life, middle age, personal, relationships

Blue skies, 60 degrees, and time to play.  My kind of day.  The trees here in Chicagoland are turning color quickly now and dropping their leaves.  Days are nice, for the most part, and nights are cool in a leave the windows open pull the covers up sort of way.

Yesterday, my boss told me to celebrate the Cubs big win by taking the afternoon off.  Yesterday’s weather was just like today’s weather, so I finished up my work, cut out at 2:45, loaded my mountain bike up on my car and headed for my favorite trails.  I got there with time to ride at least 90 minutes, spend some time reveling out in the parking lot with the regulars who also are relishing this possibly last blast of shirtsleeve riding weather, especially since the clocks change tonight, and headed home to enjoy a burger with my son.  The trails were a bit greasy last night what with heavy rains on Wednesday and Thursday, coupled with fallen leaves, but they were still good to ride.  My fitness has not fallen off yet, so the riding was fast.  With cool weather, I didn’t even feel a twinge of fatigue.

This morning, I headed out for a leisurely breakfast, took an hour or so to write before heading back to the trails.  It was around 54 degrees when I rolled out, but soon enough it was in the 60 degree range.  I was glad to have thought to bring my Under Armor mock tee, a perfect first layer, knocking just enough chill off so that I only needed a tee shirt over it.  Shorts were good enough for this weather.  After the first hour, the morning damp had left the trails and they were absolutely perfect.  As soon as the warm up loop was done, I found myself bombing the trails at full speed.  Two hours later, I pulled up to the back of my car, thrilled and satisfied.

One of the guys that I had passed on the trails approached me while I was opening up my car.  He introduced himself, told me he had been to the trails a few times but was still finding his bearings.  After listening to his description of where he had been on the trails, I told him about a few of the trails he had missed.

“You feel like riding a bit more?”, he asked.

Honestly, I felt like I could ride a few more hours, so I agreed.  I jumped back on my bike, introduced my new and thankful friend to some of the trails he had missed.  He is the same age as I am (old), but it was funny as well as a boost to my ego to see how much effort he had to put out to keep up with me.  Several times, we had to stop for him to catch his breath, and the guy talked my skills up.  Frankly, the day was so good that I was shredding the trails and everything seemed to be coming together.  I was having a freaking huge amount of fun!

Mike gave me his phone number, asked for mine, and wants to ride with me as much as he can.  Looks like I have a new riding friend.

Honestly, I had a lot of thinking to do from something that happened late Wednesday.  The next few months of my life will likely be a tough ride.  The rides yesterday and today, the times alone on the trail, were an elixir, a time to think and even pray while I rode, a calming that really helped me to find some clarity.  The bike has been a gift from God to me in my life, the way He speaks to me the best, and I needed what those rides brought to me.

Another nice day tomorrow — can you say RIDE AGAIN?  I can.  After all, I also got the lawn mowed and the leaves cleaned up.  I’m golden.  🙂

 

Woods With Friends

16 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

fun, life, middle age, mountain biking, relationships, sports

There is nothing better than enjoying God’s magnificent creation with friends.  Even better is rolling through God’s green (and a bit yellow with mixed reds/oranges) wonder.. fast.  This past weekend I joined my friends Mike, Mike, and Jon for a jaunt through the twisting, undulating (cool word, eh?) dirt mountain bike trails of Brown County State Park, Nashville, Indiana.  Brown County boasts some of the best singletrack dirt trails in the Midwest, a designation that my friends and I heartily endorse.

brown-shelter-2016

Mike L, Steve the Big Orange Blob, and Mike B

This was my fifth trip to Brown County with Jon — the first trip there was one of my first real mountain bike excursions.  That first year was eye opening, my awe evident to Jon and our friend, Jim, who both love introducing the sport to friends.  Brown County had been an annual trip each Fall for my two friends, a tradition that Jon and I have continued.  Jon and I coaxed my friend Mike into going with us two years ago, easily hooking him to the rush of the trails.  Last year we introduced Frank to Brown County.. he was almost in tears as he had to announce earlier this week that his boss had asked him to forego the trip in lieu of a work trip.
2016-10-16-16-54-45

Jon brought along his friend, Mike B, for this trip, an enthusiastic intermediate level rider who immediately expressed his joy as we entered the woods to begin our two days of riding on Thursday morning, starting at the “bottom” of the park from the north entrance parking lot of Brown County State Park.  That portion of the trail, the Pine Loop, begins by winding up a beautifully wooded ravine then through a sweet smelling pine forest, emerging to cross a small wood bridge into a fast flow trail.  Pine Loop is a smooth beginner trail with enough twists, turns, climbs, roots, and rocks to give a preview of what is to come.  We had already taken a 7 mile warm up loop while Mike B was on a work conference call from his car in the parking lot, so the three of us were able to give him a nice fast intro to the trail.  Of course, Mike B had a very interesting crash later on while riding the Walnut trail, something he recorded from his GoPro camera mounted below his handlebar.  The link is below.  Somehow, he came out of that scary crash as enthusiastically as he had approached our ride all day, with a laugh and a smile.  We all were really glad that Mike B joined us this year!  His crash became the talk of the rest of our trip.

Our first day found us grinding the climbs before flying (literally.. both tires were off the ground a ton during the descents on that trail) the Green Valley trail, grunting the climbs over the roots and rocks of the Hesitation Point trail.. to be treated to a spectacular view at the top, then the rush of the advanced skill level Walnut trail.  We reached the top of the park after another screaming rush riding the flowy Limekiln trail to the campgrounds.  At the campground, we met up with three other friends who rode back down through Limekiln and Walnut with us to Hesitation Point.  Those three rode back up to the campground to get cleaned up for dinner while we rode back down the Hesitation Point trail to Aynes and back to the north gate parking lot.

Mike L and I decided to ride our bikes from the trail head to the hotel where Mike B and Jon met us.  All said, our first day was nearly 40 miles of dirt trail riding.

Lovely.

All retreated to our rooms, exhausted but extremely satisfied, the showers bringing us back to life.  We met the three from the campground at the Big Woods brewery in Nashville, closed out the restaurant, sharing stories from our trail rides that day as well as ride stories of the past.

The next morning I woke amazingly refreshed, a bit sore from the previous day’s ride, but ready for another few hours of riding.  After all, riding was our reason for our trip.  None of us are partiers.  We wanted to ride as much as possible.  After a breakfast of sausage and fake scrambled eggs in the hotel lobby, we left Jon’s van at the hotel, rode into the park for more riding.  Our ride started from the Pine Loop trail again, maybe even more sweet smelling in the morning dew.  From there the boys coaxed me to ride the North Tower Loop trail, a ride that starts with two miles of grinding, albeit low grade, twisty climbing.  My legs were sore.  I didn’t want to start with climbing.  But I was glad to be talked into riding and leading out on that trail.  I was the fastest descender in the group, the climbs warming me up nicely so that when we reached the down and tight turning section of the North Tower Loop trail, I left my friends in the dust, waiting for them with a huge grin at the end of that trail.  We ventured back to the Green Valley trail for more roller coaster riding, then climbed to Hesitation Point.

20161016_174036From there, we decided to take the park road to the Bobcat Bowl trailhead, a double black diamond expert trail, half of the trail newly finished a week before our visit.  Bobcat Bowl is very narrow, following ridges over a whole lot of rocks and roots, with challenging switchbacks that threaten to throw your bike off the trail into the ravine.  It’s also one of the most scenic trails in the park.. so wonderful.  At one point, I had to walk a small section of trail that was probably three feet wide with a sheer drop off on my left.  I am afraid of heights!  The trail starts with a challenging, rocky switchback that leads to off camber, narrow dirt trails.  It is a fun trail, but I found myself wishing I lived close enough to learn to ride Bobcat Bowl properly.  I rode the first half very well, fast enough to take a break in the middle to wait for my friends to catch up.  Once we got to the newly finished portion of Bobcat, where it begins to wind up the side of very tall ravines, I fell behind and had to walk some sections.  We were a few hours into our ride and I was beginning to show some wear.  Plus, I am heavier right now than I have ever been and it began to show in the climbs.

brown-bobcat-2016

Here I am getting ready to negotiate a tight turn on Bobcat.

We finished the day by riding back down through the Aynes Loop.  At the end, I found my second wind, leading us back to the park, forcing a large group of slower riders to give up the trail to us, allowing us to pass.  We sprinted for the old covered bridge at the entrance to the park, then rolled back up the highway to our vehicles at the hotel.

I want to go again next week.  It was that good!

If you have some time and want to get an idea of what the Walnut trail riding was like our first day, here is Mike B’s video.  I am the orange guy at the beginning and the end.  At 4:39, you will be treated to Mike’s end over into the ravine!

With Some Fava Beans

17 Tuesday Feb 2015

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

fatherhood, middle age, valentines

First things first.  I know everyone in the world is wondering what I did for Valentines day.  Everyone wants to know what a 53 year old guy did on that one day where guys are forced to the point of constipation to perform.  No.  We’re not talking about in bed because, well, we are talking about a middle aged guy and most of us, with the exception of a chosen few, ceased being sexual titans many moons ago.

I will not keep you in suspense.  I slept in.  I had cream of wheat with a banana chopped up in it and lots, lots, lots of sugar.  Coffee.  Took my son to driving school.  Let him drive the VW on the way home.  Fried a chicken.  Did the taxes.  Gave my wife a card with some chocolate.  Fell asleep on the couch watching ‘Silence of the Lambs’, dark chocolate drool at the corners of my mouth from the heart shaped York peppermint patties that she gave to me.

A census taker once tried to test me.  I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.

So romantic.

…He said “I can smell your cunt”.

I see.  I myself can not.  You use Evian skin cream, and sometimes you use L’Air du Temps, but not today.

Sorry.  The beauty of those lines was in the delivery.  So superior.  Sickness wrapped up in condescending genius.

One more.  Hannibal was such a philosopher.

Nothing makes us more vulnerable than loneliness except greed.

So.

I had a nice Valentines day.

So did my daughter or so it seems.  Her boy went the multiple gift route, took her out to eat, gave her a really nice day.  Everything I hear tells me the boy is in love, is in tune with my girl, and that pleases me.  She is in love.  As each year passes I find myself wondering if this boy is the one who will be the one I call my son.  Valentines takes on a whole new dimension for me as it becomes more significant for my little girl.  Knowing she was smiling made my day, and my wife’s, very satisfying.

My daughter is learning to love, has experienced a bit of the pain that goes with it, still has a way to go and a lot to learn.  If this boy breaks her heart, this will one hurt a lot more, cause a deeper wound.  The wounds go deeper as the love begins to reach into the soul.  I sense a depth that goes beyond the little girl love she has felt before.

Watch it, boy.  I have learned a few things too.

I’m not sure you get wiser as you get older, Starling, but you do learn to dodge a certain amount of hell.

Stuck In The Middle

02 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ 14 Comments

Tags

Marital Intimacy, middle age, The Fight

Middle age happens when you least expect it, even if you know it is coming or not.  The sneaky bastard caught me by surprise, laughed at me one evening after a game of softball as I stumbled half bent over into the bathroom and popped half a bottle of Advil, guffawed in my ear as I looked in the full length mirror with the ‘Oh crap who is that?’ look on my face.  There is that moment when a man turns the corner, comes head on with reality.  All of a sudden you realize that you are there.  Really the only honorable choice is to look at the revelation with honesty, celebrate the positives rather than cry over the perceived losses, live as you always have.  For me, there is no option to buy the fast red sports car or try to find a way to make myself physically attractive through the magic of modern surgery.  Good thing.  Acceptance comes slowly but sooner or later the only wise choice is to do just that.

 I felt the rush of panic, closed the bathroom door behind me, leaned on the counter as I studied the man who stood before me in the mirror, a man I did not know but recognized.  My back complained as I leaned in closer to observe my thinning hairline, receded enough that I no longer use a brush or comb, simply run my fingers through what is left so it all points the same direction, a blessing more than a curse as every male in my family has had to deal with the curse of hair loss.  Mine has held on for dear life much longer than previous generations of Henry men, enough that I feel buoyed by good hair fortune instead of lamenting the loss.  At one time in my life full curly locks spilled over my shoulders, a rocking mullet that invoked a warning from my chrome domed father every time he saw me, a warning to enjoy it while I could.  I did enjoy it in the moment knowing full well the truth in my father’s warning.  Those words rung in my memory as I turned away from the bathroom mirror, pulled the shower faucet knob to the left and watched the water pour from the shower head, steam beginning to rise as hot water began to come out.  There was no need to look at myself in the mirror any more, even as I removed my clothes to gingerly climb into the tub.  Reality was already biting, numbing me as I leaned over to let the magic hot water roll over my aching lower back, the Advil doing its job.

I’m there.  Drat.

Maybe I have been there for a while.  After all, I have been driving a PT Cruiser the last eight years.

There is the consolation that at fifty two years old I can still compete athletically.  Most days find me enthusiastically riding a bicycle or playing golf. 

Wait.  Uh oh.  Softball.  Bicycles.  Golf.  Old guy sports.

Activity has been a way of life for me, a bit of my identity, and while I don’t see my active lifestyle as my way of trying to fight against middle age, it does help me cope.  One does not need to be around me much at all to know how proud I am of my physical abilities.  There are few softball games where I don’t take the opportunity to tell my opponent my age as I stand on base after smoking a line drive past his ear.  Yes, sneaky bastard that middle age is, I have heard his footsteps coming for some time and I have laughed a bit at him myself.

Middle age does have its perks.   A lot of it has to do with experience or at least that is how people look at a middle aged guy.  He has been around, he must know something, right?  Little do they know.  Talk to me for any amount of time and you will find out how little I have learned from experience.. or how much. 

Thirty year old people seem like children to me.  When did that happen?  My thirtieth birthday, I felt like I had reached that milestone of old age.  Now I chuckle when I hear a song that I used to sing at that time called “Turning Thirty” (Randy Stonehill):

Well, now thirty ain’t like fifteen
And it’s not like twenty-five
My back’s a little stiff
And there’re some lines around my eyes

But I’ve still got my energy
And I’ve got most of my hair
And I’m not too old to rock ‘n roll
And I’m not really scared of turning thirty, yeah yeah

Those lyrics seem silly now.  When I am sixty or seventy, what I am saying right now about fifty might seem just as silly.

You know what I have been listening to as I write this morning?  My Electric Light Orchestra internet radio station – Suzy Quatro, Yes, Sweet, Boz Scaggs, Journey, Earth Wind and Fire, Doobie Brothers, Queen.  Oh crap.  I AM old.  When did that music become oldies?

Dwelling on the physical part of becoming middle aged is the easy part.  Talking about the physical changes, the aches and pains, the hair loss, the hair gain, even my favorite music reaching oldies status, is pretty easy because all that is what I expected to happen.  All of those things are what we all anticipate even with a bit of pleasure.  A part of me looked forward to getting older.  To some that may seem odd to say, but there are plenty more who understand exactly what I am saying.  There is a certain pleasure in getting older, a freedom of sorts.  Some of the mystery of life is gone, replaced by reality, perhaps a result of taking enough bites of the knowledge of good and evil fruit.  No, I am not able to stop there. 

What makes middle age difficult for me is expectations.    I am at that point in my life where I realize that life is just not what I expected it to be.  When I looked in the bathroom mirror that night, there was more exposed to me than just the obvious physical changes.  My life should be a whole lot more different than it is.  Life should not be a struggle.  It should be in order.  By this point, I should have moved towards that comfortable place.  The company that I have given twenty four years to should be paying me like I have given them twenty four hard years.  It doesn’t.  A year from now, my company will pay me lip service at my 25th anniversary but it will not reward me.  My wife will tell me what I already know, that I have accepted mediocrity, ironic really because looking at her is a true indication of what I have accepted.  What has seemed like patience may not be patience.  The relationship that should be the most significant to me, my marriage, is really where those expectations have fallen short, have failed to meet even the most remote expectations.  And that my friends, is what makes a man feel old.

As the steaming hot water poured over me and soothed my aching middle aged back, my thoughts turned to just that, a marriage that I want to change but can not.  I expected the intimacy of marriage, not necessarily the sex, but the closeness and bond that knowing each other brings, to have brought me closer to the one I had chosen and that God chose for me.  We were supposed to be one from the beginning after all.  The familiarity of my wife was going to make her more beautiful to me as our bodies aged, the changes subtle and unnoticed as we stayed together in intimacy.  My wife was going to be the one I cherish as we move into middle age together, into old age.

Instead the lack of intimacy has made her the one I despise.  Intimacy has become a distant memory.  What washed over me with that hot water brought the reality of middle age to me was the thought that I am not ready to accept that intimacy will never again be a part of my life.  A bitterness, a hatred, began to over take me for the woman who has taken that hope away from me.  It has been so long that I do not want her, will never want her again.  She has grown so far from away from me that I want her to just keep going away.  That is not, was not, my expectation.

I am a Christian, after all.  Is that what God intended?

Probably not.

Yesterday, a footnote in my Bible led me back to I Corinthians 7, a part in Paul’s letter where he talks about marriage.  It is important, at least to me, to say the footnote did not lead me there because I was not looking to read about marriage.  Not at all.  My devotions yesterday morning, our study looking at the question of Satan’s fall, turning to the spiritual battle that comes from that fall.  The irony of that spiritual battle in regards to marriage does not escape me, nor did it escape Paul.  I have read I Corinthians 7 many times in my life, focused on Paul saying “It is good for a man not to marry… I wish that all men were as I am… it is good for them to stay unmarried, as I am”, thinking more about what Paul says about a single man or woman being able to devote themselves to God without the concerns of marriage.   But as I read his words again yesterday, even going back and reading the end of chapter six, Paul’s words gave me a whole different message.  He wrote his letter to people who were asking him to address the questions they were struggling with in regards to marriage.  Paul was not preaching a sermon, he was answering a letter from people with the same kinds of questions that I am asking myself, people who lived in a place not a whole lot different than the place I live in now, a very immoral place with temptations that made marriage a very necessary safeguard – “..since there is so much immorality, each man should have his own wife, and each woman her own husband”.

Paul recognized that God makes us as spiritual creatures who require intimacy, including sexual intimacy.  He warns those married “do not deprive each other”.  Why?  “..come together..so that Satan will not tempt you because of your lack of self control”.  Yes.  Paul was a man, he had been to Corinth, and he knew that a man who can’t get no satisfaction was going to find it there.

By the way, Paul was the master of his domain.

“Everything is permissible for me – but not everything is beneficial.  Everything is permissible for me – but I will not be mastered by anything.”… “The body is not meant for sexual immorality, but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body.”

Paul goes further to tell us that sexual sin is different from other sins, with other sins being outside of the body, but sexual sin being against one’s own body.  Ask anyone who wants is in Christ and they will tell you how real that is to them when they allow themselves to be taken by sexual temptation.  The spiritual separation is very real.  Satan will use that.  The people Paul wrote to were very aware of that and needed real encouragement from Paul.

So do I.  A wife has the ability to take her husband to heaven in more way than one.  Or she can help lead him straight to hell.  Making sure she takes care of her husband is something a marriage needs.  Don’t take my word for it.  Paul said it.  He also said it takes two, by the way.  I am not ignoring that.  Paul does not say “hey wife, don’t make you husband take cold showers”.  He says do not deprive each other.

I thought it was a bit funny that my study Bible included this footnote for I Corinthians 7:5 –

“Do not deprive each other.  Of sexual fulfillment.  Satan…not tempt you because of your lack of self control.  The Christian deprived of normal sexual activity with his or her marriage partner may be tempted by Satan to sexual immorality.  The normal God-given sexual drive in the human being is strong.”

Boy do I know that.  When the thought struck me that as a middle aged man I may not be having sex any more, the possibility of that part of my life being over, let’s just say bells and whistles were already going off.  Just because I am older does not mean the opportunities do not exist.  While I am not going to go out looking for sex, am not going to take advantage of what is easily available to me, I could have it if I want it.  There are plenty of people who reach middle age that are asking the same question I am, have decided they are not going to let that part of their life be over, and have made the decision to look outside of marriage.  A guy like me who has no problem talking to pretty much anyone, has run across that more often than I should probably admit.  My wife should know that, does know that from the number of our friends who have gone off their rocker and had affairs on their husband.  For some reason, it has not clicked with her.  It should have a long time ago.  I wish it had.  I really do.  Maybe if it had, I would still be able to say that I am attracted to her, that if she wanted to do something about the whole depriving your marriage partner, we could.

We can’t.  And I never expected that to happen.  Never, ever, until it did.

Age really is just a number.  Middle age is just that, but what it does to how we look at ourselves is different than any of those numbers.  We look back, we assess, we wonder if we should change.  We realize that the age number is a whole lot smaller looking up than it is looking down.

A friend of mine told me recently that she really didn’t start living until she decided to change her life.

Is that what being middle aged is about?  Change?

I may never know.

Sex Talk

31 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

marriage, middle age, sex in marriage

Rembrandt's depiction of Samson's marriage feast

Rembrandt’s depiction of Samson’s marriage feast (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“It’s the time when you find out, all of a sudden you realize as you get older, that maybe your father wasn’t just there to raise you, that he actually had dreams of his own and things he wanted to do and things that he has sacrificed.” – James Gandolfini, on a moment in the film Not Fade Away

—————-

Actor James Gandolfini, known for his role as Tony Soprano, is a 51 year old man with a 13 year old son.  His statement that I quote was meant as an interpretation of what inspired him in the role that he played in the movie, but it’s obvious that the truth of that statement likely comes from his own personal experience.   His statement is very obvious, not really in the realm of an epiphany for me, but I can relate to what he says simply by being a 51 year old father of a 13 year old son.

The more I experience as a father, the more I am able to communicate with my own father about my own life.  We can relate on a more personal level because I am no longer just looking at him as my father, I know I am talking to someone who has already gone through much of what I am also going through.  My dad sacrificed for me, put himself aside….

There is a reason I didn’t finish that sentence.

There is something most men don’t directly talk about as they get older, a pain most endure alone — a sacrifice not as obvious as putting aside a dream, giving up driving new cars or having nice things, writing a book or finding the perfect fitness zen.  Those are all on my list, by the way, and sometimes they are just plain excuses.  Oh, guys complain, mostly joke about it, and indirectly talk about it.  One group of guys I hang with and exchange emails with are constantly talking about the WA (wife alarm) and sending out cartoons that make fun of marriage.  If I may say so,  and I will, that strikes me as a bit emasculating and I won’t do it.

Others take it a step further and complain about their wife to that single or married woman for sympathy or a potential screw.  That is not emasculating, it is pitiful and pathetic.

Of course, some just blog about it.  Oops.

I do feel a bit pathetic.  Not just because I do use my blogging privilege as a mechanism to clear my soul (you have been warned), but because I am guilty of complaining about my wife. Guys are pitiful  that way.

What I am trying to convey when I say that married men, men who stay the course with their family and wife through thick and much thin even when they get to that point when it starts to become obvious that youth is starting to leave them and the attractiveness of youth is being replaced by the comfortable appearance of middle age, really have to put self aside to stay.  When the comfort of sex, of any physical attention, starts to wane and the children take priority, it takes a real man to stick around and stay faithful.  It is a sacrifice that really isn’t comfortable to speak about in public, to admit to any one.

I said this to my dad by email this morning.  We talk a lot through email these days.

I think most guys, if they are honest, are going to say that sex takes a back door and even their marriage takes a back door for a season in their marriage.  I never expected it to last.

We don’t expect the honeymoon to last.  I enjoyed the party as long as I could, not realizing how delicate of an arrangement my marriage would become.  Nor did I realize what it would be like when the physical attention came to a screeching halt.  The delicacy of marriage, the sensitivities required, is not always as obvious as any man would like it to be no matter how hard he tries.  I found out in a counseling session that my wife did not feel that I supported her enough through a miscarriage and the procedure that followed.  That was the reason she gave for shutting down on me, giving me years of pounding my head against the shower wall during cold showers.

I have stayed.  That is what real husbands do.  Real husbands stay even when it hurts to think that maybe, just maybe, his wife is not what he envisioned as a newlywed a real wife to be.

And we wonder if we are alone in that type of situation.  We are not.  It has taken me a while to figure that out.  Because guys never say it.  They never talk about it.  We do not want to embrace the notion that we are not sex gods.

Some give up and leave.  Some turn to a mistress.  Some turn to perversion.  Others find ways to indulge themselves, to replace what they are missing.

Then I see ads for movies like “This Is 40”, listen to my dad tell me that something similar (but not as extreme) happened to him,  think about what my friends talk about.  I realize that it’s a condition that happens in every marriage, a condition that has to be overcome.  Likely by sacrifice, not by accepting the ceiibacy that comes with the season, but by sacrificing the part of a man that refuses to talk about it with his wife.

I am trying.  I am not all the way there yet.  At least I know I am not alone.

Cold shower, anyone?

Newer posts →

Yes, I really do say these things

  • Stupid Is
  • Waiting for the transition
  • I’m Bad A@@
  • Knee challenge
  • Ouchie

Yes, I really did

  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • March 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • May 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012

Categories

My brain hurts with you

  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • March 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • May 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012

Blogs I Follow (and maybe even read)

  • glennkaiser.com
  • There and Bach Again
  • Dean
  • Southern Georgia Bunny
  • The Rambling Biker
  • Storyshucker
  • Ah dad...
  • Squeeze the Space Man's Taco
  • I didn't have my glasses on....
  • kidscrumbsandcrackers
  • longawkwardpause.wordpress.com/
  • Cycling Dutch Girl
  • The Shameful Sheep
  • Blog Woman!!! - Life Uncategorized
  • Life in Lucie's Shoes
  • Fit Recovery
  • lifebeyondexaggeration
  • Globe Drifting
  • I AM TOM NARDONE
  • Cathy's Voice Now

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 270 other subscribers

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

glennkaiser.com

There and Bach Again

a teacher's journey

Dean

Marketing major. Outdoor sports lover. San Diego living.

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

The Rambling Biker

Roaming & Rambling in search of MTB Stoke

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Ah dad...

I need the funny because they're teenagers now

Squeeze the Space Man's Taco

A journey into Cade's world

I didn't have my glasses on....

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

kidscrumbsandcrackers

Kids - I`m like the old woman who lived in a shoe - Crumbs, my house is full of them - Crackers, Im slowly going

longawkwardpause.wordpress.com/

Cycling Dutch Girl

the only certainty is change

The Shameful Sheep

Blog Woman!!! - Life Uncategorized

Mother, Nehiyaw, Metis, & Itisahwâkan - career communicator. This is my collection of opinions, stories, and the occasional rise to, or fall from, challenge. In other words, it's my party, I can fun if I want to. Artwork by aaronpaquette.net

Life in Lucie's Shoes

Life in a bubble: a dose of New York humor with an Italian twist!

Fit Recovery

Stay Clean Get Fit

lifebeyondexaggeration

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

Globe Drifting

Global issues, travel, photography & fashion. Drifting across the globe; the world is my oyster, my oyster through a lens.

I AM TOM NARDONE

Cathy's Voice Now

Sharing my "voice"

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Follow Following
    • shenrydafrankmann
    • Join 270 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • shenrydafrankmann
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...