“I have something to tell you. It’s good news—or bad news—depending on how you look at it.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the fear that the rubber(s) failed—and a little Meg or Jay was forthcoming.

“I… met someone,” she offered.

A massive wave of relief washes over my face. “Oooh. Tell me more!”

She proceeds to tell me the story. About how she met him through a coworker. About how they’re messaging non-stop. All the while she’s smiling and giggling, with an intoxicating light in her eyes.

“He talks to me like you do. He treats me like you do. He makes me feel like you do. Like I deserve happiness and joy. But…,” she trails off.

“But?”

“He hasn’t had sex in… ten years!”

“Wow! Ten years? What’s that even like?”

“Right?” Yet, she is excited!

And it’s in this moment, I know that she understands me. We adore each other, and enjoy being together.

However, our journeys are very different. I explained that from the start, but it wasn’t until this conversation that I know she understands.

That it’s about the love. And that each of us deserve it.