When Carla and I were younger, it worried me a bit that I wanted her so much. Physically. I was helpless, hooked, and rather obsessed. My concern was that as we aged and the physical part of our relationship was somewhat less of an overwhelming drive for me as it had been, that possibly we would grow more distant. Maybe the bond wouldn’t be as close.

We didn’t start out as best friends as many couples claim to. We were like Johnny and June: “We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout.” I had no choice but to marry the girl as soon as I could.

Remembering that long-ago concern recently, I realized that the opposite has happened. We are closer than ever. At age 71, the physical drive isn’t as overwhelming as it used to be. It no longer makes me crazy like a guy 10 feet underwater desperate for air.

At the gym these days, I walk on the treadmill, I no longer run. It’s like that. But since our girls grew up and left home, Carla has really come into her own professionally and I’ve learned to focus on who she is more than who she isn’t.

There was a time when I thought she should be more like me, organized in her approach, methodical. A planner. But now I believe that I would be a better person if I could be more like her. Free-spirited, living in the moment, spontaneous.

Turns out that it’s best for each of us to be exactly who we are.

It’s only taken me about 40 years to understand that. I’m a slow learner but better late than never, right?