FIRST TIME SEX
Dad: I guess I was a little, uh, nervous. I’ve never been considered the big lover by anybody, you know what I mean?
Not really Pops, but I’m honestly happy to just take your word for it.
Mom: He wouldn’t come to bed.
Dad: I fell asleep on the couch out by the radio.
Mom: You did finally come to bed though.
She smiles.
Did you do it? Was it hot? Did you cry? Did he cry? Did you melt together like two overcooked s’mores over a campfire?
At the same time:
Mom: I don’t remember.
Dad: I can’t remember it.
WHAT.
Mom: It was not as monumental as the first time we met. Absolutely not.
Dad: That wasn’t what it was all about, in my opinion.
Mom: It never was.
Dad: It was about being together and being close, and looking at each other, and laughing. That was certainly not the reason we got married. Because of sexual capacity or whatever.
Love. They’re talking about love. Sex is important. But not as important as love.
GETTING MARRIED
My father was scheduled to go back to Denmark to attend University and become an Architect. My mother, who was still unable to pronounce his name and barely knew where Denmark was, took the leap. Or the boat. I think they actually took a boat. It was over whiskey and pepperoni, during a terrifying visit in a darkened hotel room by my mother’s foreboding alcoholic father, Orhan, when Yngve agreed that if he wanted Leyla to go with him to Denmark, he’d have to marry her.
Dad: I probably felt a little pressure. But then I thought. You know. If it doesn’t work out, we can always get a divorce. I mean what the hell, you know?
My mother has no reaction. After 47 years, two kids, multiple moves, and cancer, she must feel in the clear.
Dad: The responsibility I accepted. Fully and wholly. We got married for Leyla’s feeling of safety and security. But once we decided to get married, I was committed.
Mom: We don’t know how, we don’t know why, but we loved each other, and somehow we fulfilled each other’s needs on a level even we didn’t understand. I don’t think we could have verbalized it at the time.
Dad: She was kind and sweet and open.
NOT OVERTHINKING
The lives of my parents began and thrived because they had organically mastered the art of not overthinking.
Mom: You didn’t always know why you were doing things, but you just did them.
Dad: If it feels right, why change it? You just do it. It feels good? Stay. And it always felt good. Even if we had fights, it didn’t matter. We could still be quiet for half a day and still love each other.
Mom: Don’t overthink it. If your body feels it, go for it.
Overthinking kills! Get back to basics. Follow your gut.