Had a fight a couple nights ago with my wife about sex. Not about the fact that it’s been a while, or how many close calls we seem to be having (she’ll say ‘maybe’ earlier in the day, which obviously means no, but I of course take to mean ‘except in case of rapture’).
No. This was about how much I miss her instigating it. When we first started seeing each other she was the catalyst most of the time. And now; it's literally never. Granted 15 years have passed, along with 2 kids, work stress, health stress, family stress...not to mention the whole husband who blew all the money on crack and Oxycontin, which doesn’t do wonders in the love department.
But it's not the sex itself that has me awake at nights - as is so often the case, it's what she said that I can't get out of my head, and I worry that shaking it may prove to be a long term engagement.
What she said is perfectly understandable; she’s not 22 anymore, she’s always tired and she's at her wit's end with stress. There's more to it though, that any of the physical, emotional and sexual energy she could have enjoyed with me, she's used up dealing with the aftermath of my drug mess. And finally...sexual activity, let alone instigating it, just isn’t a priority, and that ain’t going to change.
What's bothering me is not a simple case of a guy not getting it.
For me, it's the latest in a years-long string of blows to my self-esteem. A double blow in fact, for I cannot help but conclude a) she no longer finds me attractive, and b) I'm obviously not succeeding in the "pleasure" department.
But it doesn't end there. It’s also about figuring out my place, my value in my family... whether there’s more to me than letting and weighing my loved ones down. I know my kids don’t judge me; they adore me and the high I get from them is better than any drug. But am I the best father figure for them in the long run?
For my wife, am I any more than a burden? I don’t make her laugh any more. I’m a source of daily disappointment, headaches and stress. I clearly don’t inspire any intimate pleasure. And I can’t remember the last time – for no reason in particular – she just held my hand, or hugged me, or anything that showed the pure, unscripted, love I thought made us so happy for so long.
So what does it mean? I've been thinking about it almost non-stop since Saturday night, every train of thought leading to a long, downhill life separated from my family. Maybe a better father and husband for the family. Maybe I find a new town with a bachelor apartment and a bottle of hair dye. All because of a sex talk.
Am I just having a bad few days? Am I overreacting? Or am I blind to something staring me right in the face? Am I just the last to find out?
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