Like any married couple, my wife and I have had our share of disagreements, although very seldom do we actually engage in an all-out shouting match. So far, we have always made up and I believe that every time our relationship is the better for it. Perhaps what doesn't kill it makes it stronger. Or maybe each time I fail the test, I learn something...

One day, after we had just had a particularly nasty one of our semi-annual horrific arguments, I took my injured self to the artificial calmness of a yoga class. About thirty minutes later, it was working; I had begun to let go and my head began to clear. At one point, looking down as I pushed my torso off the floor, I noticed the wedding ring which has been on my finger ever since the day she put it there, well over ten years ago. Something in me stopped. I have never once even wanted to remove it. I love this woman. I wondered... what happens to people who love each other to make them fight like this and wind up so mad at each other they don't even speak for the rest of the day? At that moment, in the rarefied atmosphere of my deep relaxation, the answer was quite obvious. They lose touch with the very thing that made them want to be together in the first place.

Later, after we had reconciled, I set about writing this book. I wanted to create something that would sing to her, something that would not be taken lightly, a permanent reminder of my feelings for her. I began by thinking of the very first moment when I felt the chemistry between us, savoring the rich, indelible memory of her kiss. No sooner than I had given it poetic form, than images of our life together began to flow, each one arousing the most passionate feelings. I found myself quite naturally tuning in to every single thing I love about my woman, writing to her with childlike enthusiasm. It was a labor of love, highly erotic, tender and playful.

When I was finished, I hand-bound it in Japanese silk and gave it to her as a birthday present. She had known that I was up to something, because for a week I had been sequestered in my office, not allowing anyone to enter, working late into the night. I gave her several presents throughout the day... some she had asked for, some surprises, but these were all decoys - foreplay to extend my pleasure. Each time she opened one, she was clearly pleased, but I would catch this flicker in her eye that said, "Hmm, this isn't the big secret he's been hiding from me..." Finally, as we were going to bed, I handed her my final gifts: some satin pajamas and this book. After she had finished reading it, she said, "It's beautiful. I love it." And then, a beat or two later, "You know, you should publish this."

This was a very intimate piece, never meant for anyone else to see, and yet when she said that, it struck me: how universal this attraction is; how timeless the love between a man and a woman; how deeply we crave to be wanted; how much we all need to hear again and again the expressions of our lover's heart. She was right. What I had written to her, men have felt ever since they first encountered women; what she read, women have always wanted to hear.

I will leave to your imagination what happened after that, except to say that there is no aphrodisiac or love potion in the world to equal the feeling of being loved with passion.