Saturday night, hubbie and me watched Julie & Julia. The movie where a 30-year-old woman—with not much going on in the career department—decides to start a blog chronicling her quest to finish 500-some Julia Child recipes in 365 days. Meltdowns ensue. Meanwhile, 50 years prior, we watch Julia Child battling similar career-lacking issues and her quest to get her love for food published into a book back when the world thought housewives wouldn’t want to read a voluminous account of how to make high-end French recipes. The notions are simple, but in the end, so inspiring and uplifting, especially when a few hours prior you are having a conversation with your hubbie that goes something like this:
“Maybe this is what the end of a relationship looks like?”
Hubbie doesn’t say anything.
“I’ve never been to the end of relationship like this; where you still love someone, care about them, and get along with them so damn well, but the passion seems to have faded so much you’re back to masturbating just to get a little orgasmic bliss.”
Would making more money save our sex life? Having more fulfilling careers? Selling more books? A baby? We were both at a loss; two people looking into a relationship that had been through so much and delivered so much, yet couldn’t now deliver the one thing we both needed to feel connected again: hot sex.
Tired, and still battling a sinus and ear infection I finally went to bed with my computer and started working on the next Sex, Life, & Hannah book. A couple hours later, hubbie joined me, Netflix envelope in hand, “we should watch this; it’s been sitting around for weeks.”
I agreed, and as the movie rolled on, I found myself laughing, tearing up, and squeezing hubbie’s hand every time I could relate, which was numerous times. Julia Child didn’t even get published until she was in her forties; didn’t get on TV until she was in her fifties. And Julie Powell hadn’t a clue anyone was reading her blog until well into several hundred recipes. I especially loved the scene, where Julia Child, after spending eight years finishing her manuscript, gets a rejection letter from the publisher that was supposed to publish the book, and sits down next to her husband, “well, now what should I do with my life?” and he takes her hand and tells her that her book will get published and sell a million copies and change the world. Or something like that. Anyway, it reminded me of all the times I’ve sat there, in that same predicament over the last five years, and hubbie just kept saying, “your books are amazing, and they’re going to be big one day,” encouraging me, like he always does.
We don’t know what twists and turns our lives will take, and just because you haven’t accomplished certain things by certain deadlines doesn’t mean they won’t ever happen. Keep your eye on the prize, and as for the sex…TBD on that one, but a good start is probably just having some sex. Like the morning after watching Julie & Julia, when you’re still feeling overwhelmed and grateful for everything you do have.