The Winter Spring Romance

Joie De Vivre!

When I heard about the triumph of France’s new president Emmanuel Macron I was thrilled, because while I know very little about French politics, one thing I knew was that I did not want Le Pen. Then I set out to learn more about Macron and I was struck by the obsession with his marriage. “Their love story fascinates many people and makes others dream,” stated Laurence Pieau in French Closer magazine. The Winter-Spring romance aka the May-December romance needs further investigation.
Those expressions refer to couples with large age discrepancies. One is in their prime the spring, May, fresh and new. The other is winter, December, withering and closer to the end than the beginning. When these relationships involve an older man and a younger woman everyone nods and thinks that makes sense. Why is it so different when the woman is the older one?
Macron’s marriage is one such union. They met when he was 15 and she was a 39-year-old married woman, his drama teacher. He was totally smitten. His parents tried to separate them by sending him away to Paris but their love was stronger than any ban and they got married in 2007. Today he is 39 and Brigitte is 64. He is the President-elect of France. Brigitte is actively involved as a partner, not eye-candy. They are equals in this venture. She is neither a trophy wife nor a surrogate mother figure.
There are so many things I love about this story. How this man waited, did not compromise and pursued the woman of his dreams. How she married her man, after first presenting this lovingly to her children. This love affair brings the invisible woman out into the open. I can’t believe this is such a big deal in this day and age. I agree with Macron who says misogyny is driving the public’s fascination with his older partner. This relationship opens us up to the far flung possibilities of romantic relationships. It is the absence of typical roles, true partnership, genuine respect and a big fuck you to those who think age is bad.
This is the most refreshing news I’ve heard in a long time. This story has it all – passion, forbidden fruit, love, power, money, success and a new dawn for France and all fans of older women.

PLATONIC LOVE

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I am all about relationships. I have always been fascinated by the interplay in erotic and nonsexual relationships. One that seems to puzzle many of us is the idea of a platonic relationship.

I have had a dynamic, complex, wonderful relationship with a man for several years. So few of my friends have such a close connection with a man who is not their lover or spouse. I’m sure half the city assumes we are having an affair. My kids have suspected it for years. My husband was cool about it until people started commenting, then he became suspicious.

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There was a Space. Part 1

I always wanted a screened in porch, a four season room. The outside of a house always interested me more than the inside. True zen, I believe, can only be found in nature.

In this poem, I parallel the changes in nature to the transformation going on between two lovers.

There Was A Space. Part I

There was a space shared. After the transition
from meetings in cafes, restaurants and such.
A place where strangers became lovers, the tide shifted to intimacy
It was the place where the journey continued, out of public eye.

An all season room, built lovingly over a period of years,
added on to a nondescript box of a house.
The one room that best captured the grounded spirit of its creator
Beams of solid wood and windows floor to ceiling
Wicker furniture, crystals, an ashtray
Floor unfinished, rough cement
A mini swinging door to accommodate the cats

The sunroom, for winter, crackling fires in the potbelly stove perched on cinder blocks
Sipping tea or red wine. Sharing stories, laughing or sitting silently, always touching. For hours.
Reaching into the basket for wood, replenishing the flames
At times making love, far too cozy to climb the steps to the bedroom.

The sunroom, for spring, watching the flowers burst through the earth
Every day looking for new pops of color
Listening to the river, water rhythmically rolling down the rocks, breaking up the ice.
Each stone in the water’s path placed thoughtfully to create the perfect sound

The sunroom, for summer, a cacophony of scents and color and sounds
Strolling in naked after showering, heat bearing down
Watching the birds as they delight in bathing in the cool, shallow river
Observing the cats, such hedonists, sprawled out in sunny spots

The sunroom, for fall, the swapping of color,
Screens replaced with glass as the wind shifts
Leaves changing and drying and shedding
The anticipation of winter, of turning inward

The sunroom, for lovers, a hidden oasis
A place unplugged, where feelings moved from simple attraction to soaring love
Where daily miracles outside in nature were fully paralleled inside
Two unlikely individuals, one earth and one water, merged to became one

Then the room was gone, like a hostile takeover
He, adept at handling the trauma of sudden loss, silently accepted his fate
She, incredulous, vowed to fight, to get it back.
His passivity was maddening
He insisted “it doesn’t matter where we are!”

The future of the lovers almost instantly became fuzzy and uncertain
Although they vowed not to attach to stones, they had lost their bearings
How much of it was space dependent
“A new start” he declared and she was threatened
Their fate yet undetermined.

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Inspiration

“Love is where compassion prevails and kindness rules.”

– Yogi Soothing Caramel Bedtime® Tea

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