Okay. I haven't written about the boyfriend in a while. Truth be told, I haven't wanted to jinx it. Things have been going so smoothly I sometimes wonder if there's something wrong?

In the past, I've kept my finger on the pulse of my relationships. If the heart wasn't racing so hard one of us was in danger of a heart attack, then the relationship didn't seem real. It was all emergency-room experiences.

Reality was at such a high pitch, such a fevered pace, there wasn't any down time or room for ambiguity.

Maybe it's maturity. Maybe I'm just exhausted post-divorce, but my new boyfriend and I have a rhythm that's positively lethargic. I'm loving it.

Here's the 411: I'm so busy rushing around with kids, job, music and meetings, that when I make a date with Mr. Right these days, I'm finding peaceful relaxation, safety, security, and the warm-fuzzies are what I'm looking for. Not a racing pulse.

First, I never worry where I stand. He thinks I'm wonderful all the time. Second, whenever I ask, "Would you like to go to such and such?" his response is always, "Are you going to be there?"

He continually assures me that the largest measure of his happiness has to do with being near me.

I remember when I was in my 20s, writing about how I needed a wife. That just goes to show how lowly the position was back then, because I was writing about needing someone to do my laundry, scrub my floors, and cook my dinners.

While Mr. Right isn't angling for the wifey position, he isn't above helping me with household chores. And, he does yard work.

Now you're saying that this sounds too good to be true.

Although divorce has damaged me to the extent that I find it hard to think of a romantic future of more than a single day, I can honestly say that, from a new-age perspective, you really can dream your way to reality.

The family joke is that if I had stopped at two children, I'd be the most insufferable mother who ever lived. My two oldest daughters have never given me moment's pause — well maybe a few moments — but I saw none of the screaming, slammed doors, sullen withdrawals or general obnoxious teenaged behavior I've heard about (or exhibited myself as a self-absorbed young lass). Never had to set curfews, never had to mete out punishments for missing said curfews. How clueless I was.

But daughter number three — bless her little heart — has given me a run for the money from the very start. Didn't want to be born; we had to induce. Once born, she didn't want to leave my arms — or the house. Where most babies are lulled to sleep in their car seats, K would scream bloody murder the entire time. I remember one wretched ride where I compulsively kept reaching for the radio knob, as if that could turn her volume down.

Now it's just the opposite. At 15 with her first beau, it's all about The Boy, and she can't wait to get into his car. She doesn't want to spend any time with me — and certainly not with my beau and His Boy, four years younger. And I understand her need to be with her guy, her first love, so it's a delicate dance between her legitimate needs and ours.

So I thought she was being particularly magnanimous, when S and his son came over one Saturday afternoon and she agreed to go iceskating with us at a nearby rink. Afterwards, we came home, baked cookies together. When she said she'd like to skip going out to dinner with all of us to meet her guy, I thought it was a reasonable request. But S got a little pissy, which annoyed me, so I sweet talked her into it. We had a lovely dinner, then she went off with The Boy, S and I retreated up to my room for a movie, his son settled with video games downstairs.

I awoke at 3 am with a start. I was sure K was home by now, but something made me check.

Not in her room.

Do you want to know which nights I get the best sleep? I get the best sleep on the night after I have sex with my husband. Not the night of the sex, but the night after. He initiates every few nights, but the night following an evening of sex, he doesn't expect anything from me — so he just drifts off. It's great.

Here's what it's like to go to bed when my husband wants sex:

1. I lay down and he rolls over, puts his arm around me, asks me how I'm feeling.

2. If I don't respond physically he starts running his hand up and down my arm or trying to rub my shoulders. He might ask me if I want a massage or if there is something I want to talk about.

3. If I still don't respond physically he'll start making suggestions about the things he wants to do. Unless I want to stay up for a few hours arguing with him, I have sex with him.

4. If we don't have sex, he intermittedly grabs and paws at me throughout the night.

Here's what it's like to go to bed the night following sex:

I lay down and my husband rolls over, putting his back to me. He doesn't say a word.

It's a pattern I'm used to. If he's physically satisfied then he doesn't stir when I come to bed. If he wants sex, he's suddenly awake when I come to bed no matter what time it is. Apparently I'm really interesting and intriguing when he wants to get some, but when he's satisfied I become a stealth ninja when I come to bed. Funny how that works.

On the nights that I'm really tired and just want to go to sleep — but don't want to get intimate — I've fantasized about sleeping on the couch just to avoid the whole song and dance with my husband, but I know he'll come looking for me and it will turn into a lengthy discussion that will evolve into sex if I want to get any sleep.

It really shouldn't be this complicated. 

I got to talk with Harville Hendrix, the author of Getting the Love You Want, last week. He's in Portland for a conference of Imago Relationship Therapists, the school of therapy he and his wife pioneered.

In the hour we talked, Hendrix answered my questions with great depth and careful consideration. Typed-out, his replies to each of my four queries were several pages.

Boiled down, edited and over-simplified, here's the heart of it:

"It really is very simple, how to be in a great relationship," Hendrix says. "It can be stated in a few sentences."

1. Your relationship will become more satisfying to the extent that you get it that you live with another person. This person is not you. They are an other. If you get it that you are living with difference and you give up trying to make them be like you, then the conflict starts to go away.

2. You have to drop negativity. Negativity is all an attempt to change the other person. Replace it with affirmation and finding all the things about your partner that are beautiful and wonderful. If I'm getting curious about my wife when she's doing something that makes me uncomfortable, 99 percent of the time, my discomfort has nothing to do with what's she's doing. It has to do with her not matching an inner image I had of her. She moved out of my picture frame, and I want her back in the frame.

3. Affirm and advocate their otherness. Become curious about it. And the way I can make all this happen is to engage in dialogue. So I can hear her disclose who she is and get at who this person is I'm living with. 

Ok, here's the latest cougar news — because everyone and their mother now thinks I am a cougar expert, except my own mother who may I remind you, I keep sending out of the country every time I am on the air somewhere talking about this. She is now a very frequent flier.

On Wednesday I was a guest on "Sex Files" on Sirius Satellite Radio Maxim Channel 108, which is hosted simultaneously by the lovely Anna David (out of NY) and the lovely Amy Spencer (out of LA). Every week they talk to men about sex, and this week's topic was "Dating & Cougars: How To Meet One, How To Woo One and How to Keep One Happy." No worries, I handled it.

Also on with us was Illona Paris, a sex therapist and self-described cougar, whose latest book out this week is called Hot Cougar Sex: Steamy Encounters with Younger Men. Her mother must live in Bora Bora.

She told hot stories. I tried to give warm advice but I used my every day Cougress voice. Wink. Listen to it here.

I should add that before allowing me up to the studios, for security purposes, I had to go through a "cat" scan. LOL — thought that was funny. Sort of purrfect timing.

Truthfully, the biggest thrill for me was hearing the show's hostesses with the mostesses, Anna and Amy, jump on board with my temporary new word for cougar — "Cougress," which I feel is at least a bit more feminine and a touch less harsh. By jove, I think I've started a movement.

Looking back, L's death was the point where things started to unravel, not just with my love affair with S, but with his family. It was so incremental that I wasn't sure if I was imagining things, perhaps subconsciously sabotaging the relationship because I was afraid of where it might lead. More likely that I didn't want to acknowledge that nagging question mark, simmering at the back of my mind. Which I really should know to trust by now. 

With L gone, I offered to host the first Thanksgiving without her and it went really well...except S and his siblings only invited his mother, not the step mom and dad as had been L's habit. Awkward. The sister stepped up to the plate for the holidays...but was put in the strange position of having to host both Christmas Eve and Day, identical menus, identical guests, but with the mom at one; dad and step mom at the other.

But the real shocker came a few months later at the annual benefit for the organization that L had co-founded, the one where S and I became an item. She was being honored that night for all the work she had done; her son was presenting the award.

And her widowed husband came with a date.

Trying to hide my shock at this, I glanced sideways at B, L's delightful son who I loved as much as my own daughters. "I hate her already," he said flatly, as he prepared for his speech. I looked at S, who shrugged as if to say: time to move on. I sure as hell wasn't ready to move on; obviously her children weren't either.

"Sometimes I fantasize about getting married again," I said to my friend Rachel. We both looked at each other stunned — even I couldn't believe the words that had just come out of my mouth.

"But," I continued, "I don't really see the point."

Both statements are true.

There is a part of me that dreams of sharing that bond with someone again. This is the more emotional part. But the other part — the more cynical part — says, why even bother?

Consider the cost of marriage (which can really be anywhere from fifty bucks to fifty thousand bucks — and even more if you're totally insane), factor in  the sky-high rate of divorce, then throw in the cost of getting a divorce. Truthfully, marriage can seem like nothing but a bad investment. And that does even cover the emotional energy that you'll spend, the heartbreak that you'll endure, or the cost of your therapist.

It's 2008, and the rules have changed. People live together for years without being married — something that once upon a time was frowned upon. Now, single women give birth to babies every day. Quite simply, times have changed and sometimes it seems that marriage is becoming more and more outdated.

But then why does that other piece of me yearn for it?

What is it about marriage that despite the obvious pain in the ass that it can be, that keeps up coming back for more? 

A comment on one of my recent blogs said this about the things I write about my husband: "I don't recall one post that mentions loving, appreciating or cherishing him."

Maybe I'm not making myself clear, and that doesn't surprise me. I spend so much of my time lately in a confused state that sometimes I really don't know how I feel about my husband. I'm not surprised that someone who takes the time to read through my posts would start to wonder whether I actually love my husband anymore or if I don't. You can't possibly assume that this isn't something that I haven't labored over in my mind over and over again.

Do I appreciate my husband? Yes, I do. I've written about how he's a professional man who supports his family well. I've written about how he's making his way through graduate school. I realize that a lot of different aspects of my life would be much more difficult if he wasn't around.

Do I cherish my husband? I've written about how I cherish watching his interactions with our children. He can make them burst into giggles quicker than anyone else.

Do I love my husband? Holy cow, that's going into a really gray area. I once loved my husband very much. He has since changed into a different man, and I have changed into a different woman. Does the New Me love the New Him? Yes, there is some love there. Is there as much love now as there once was? No, not even close.

My husband spent a great deal of time not appreciating me and not cherishing me, and although he said he loved me there was really no proof there.  That's devastating, and it's still very painful to revisit. That's probably why you don't read many blogs from me singing my husband's praises. 

In an ideal world I'll someday get to the point to where I'll have no problem blatantly loving, appreciating, and cherishing my husband. I just don't know if that will ever happen.