Spooning My Dog.

There is nothing like the reassuring melody of the heartbeat of someone you love as you fall asleep, and better still, wake to a new sunrise each day. Often, in the barely conscious moment before I am fully aware of where and when I am waking, I feel whole again as I feel the thump of blood flowing through the soft warm body next to me.

"Mmmmm. Matt?"

The cheerful whistle of the mocking birds outside my window is just a prelude to my realization that I am spooning girl's best friend, my trusty terrier, Madison. I open my weary eyes just in time to catch the noxious fumes of my 17 lb. companion's faulty digestive tract.

"Ohhhhh Madison! What did you eat last night?" And the hole opens up in my stomach again. I am virtually--except for the dog--alone.

I live in a rural community, ruled by the silver-haired set, so the grounds for middle-aged dating aren't exactly fertile. Friends and family are more than glad to offer suggestions for my new man-hunting mission: church; frozen food isle; taking a class; the gym; the VFW hall; and speed-dating.

They say, you must learn to crawl before you can walk. The yearning to be held, and loved, and kissed has got me on my knees.

Even worse, someone said to me recently, "It takes as long to come out of the mourning of marriage as you were actually in the relationship. Now, how long were you married?"

Her face is awash in crimson as I feel my face involuntarily contort into that weird laughing/crying thing that we do when we are afraid of becoming frantic. My nose is running, and I giggle as I reply, "Fifteen happy years of marriage, three miserable years of separation, and I'm on year two as single-again."

Poor thing. She had no idea. Besides, happily married people don't want to hear how horribly fast things can go hideously wrong.

Better still, happily married people want you to be happily married.

Happily married: I miss that. I'll settle for happily single.

© 2008 Ms.Adventure