Every restaurant you go to, you will likely see the Sharing Food couple. You know them. Eating spaghetti off the same fork, feeding each other sushi, chocolate cake, oeey-gooey fudge covered tablespoons of adoration. They are so in love, they don’t care about germs, or when was the last time each of them washed their hands. All single utensils are meant for two in their world.
“Oh, my Love, slurp down “our” soup after I’ve blown on it a little so you don’t hurt your beautiful tongue. The one I cannot wait to have inside my mouth later.” Ladle-ladle-slurp-twinkle-in-eye-over-the-steamy bowl-of-love.
Were you ever “that couple?”
When we were mere tadpole-mates the Ex and I certainly sipped from the same straw and licked the same ice cream cone. Then he’d blot the fudge off my nose and we’d laugh. Hand in hand, down a hot, humid avenue. Living a life that completely excluded The Outside World.
Then the Time-Suck of real life kicked into high gear. Jobs, and family obligations and home repairs and deadlines and back injuries and cracks in foundations.
When things change, boy do they change!
My Ex and I suspended that sharing practice almost immediately after pairing up for the long term. I’d reach my fork-clutching hand across the table in the direction of the bounty on his dinner plate, and I’d hear an “Uh-uh-uh.”
“This is my food that I ordered, and that is your food that you ordered. Let’s each eat our own food. That we ordered. The food we each have on each of our plates.”
For a little while after the admonition, I kept attempting to toothpick a cube of cheese, or tiny-fork an olive. (!) It was a no-go. “I have my food that I ordered, and that is your food that you ordered.” “Do you want to try some of mine?” I’d inquire, thinking that could begin some kind of food exchange. “If I’d wanted to eat beef and broccoli, I would’ve ordered it. But I didn’t. I ordered Mushu, so I’m eating my Mushu.” Crunch-crunch.
I eventually gave up. Even shareable food, let’s say pizza was not happening. We were a long way from the Lady and the Tramp couple in the restaurant.
Incredibly, I did not see this as the danger sign that it was. It so obviously signaled a course change on his part. If he didn’t want to share his food with me any longer, did he want to share his life with me any longer?
It was a question buried so deep inside of me, I couldn’t let it out. I just went on eating off my own plate, never hoping for that shared bite.
Looking back it is all so obvious. But truly it happens to most couples.
Is it possible to stay at “Dating” etiquette intimacy for an entire marriage?
I don’t think so. But it nagged at me for years. And I just kept it down.
Until he stopped eating at home at all. He was going “out with the guys.” You know to a cigar place, where the “Smoke would most likely bother you.”
The end was coming up quickly, so fast it totally knocked me over when it hit. All of you Leftat50’s who have experienced the phasing out of the “Spaghetti Kiss” no doubt feel the same sadness that I do. Seeing those young people, at the start of it all. One plate/One life.
Now there are two. What a relief! To not have that unspoken hurt stuck in my throat! I couldn’t swallow it and I couldn’t cough it up! These days, I am satiated, in every way possible.
We all go through major life transitions when relationships end… Through this website, I will share my thoughts as I walk the path of “New-Self” discovery. It doesn’t matter which side of 50 you are on. The real question is, Are you ready to live life? To forge a Path of Your Own Making (For a change!)? Then stop dwelling over the What-Might-Have-Beens and join me. Share your thoughts here, comment on mine, and let’s do this together!