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Even given what I'm going through now I would probably still do it over again if I had to. Bobby had tried to be honest and up front about it, but I wouldn't listen. We had dated for over eight months and for most of that time we had been sleeping together. One day I asked him when he was going to make an honest woman out of me and he told me that he wasn't going to. I was crushed. I thought we had something good going and then he tells me he has no intention of marrying me. But then he told me why. He was fifteen years older than I was, "When I'm sixty you will only be forty-five and in the peak of your sexual prime. I won't be able to take care of your needs and from forty-five to fifty-five those needs will only get stronger, but as I move from sixty to seventy I'll be less and less able to do anything for you. In fact, there is a damn good chance that I won't be able to help you at all."

I cried and I argued that none of that mattered and that as long as we had each other and our love for each other everything would work out for us. I finally wore him down and we were married.

Now I am forty-five and Bobby is sixty and I'm sorry to say it, but Bobby was right all along and it is killing me. Actually Bobby didn't even get to sixty before erectile dysfunction set in. It was two months after his fifty-eighth birthday when we noticed that he was having trouble getting it up and keeping it up. Another six months went by before Bobby went to see a doctor who gave him a prescription for Viagra. Even with Viagra it was hit or miss. Only one out of ...

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