I have not posted in a long time, mostly just lurking lately. I did not want to hijack HDwife's thread so I'll say this on my own thread.
I am truly sorry that so much flaming is going on here that DanceQueen is being driven from this forum. (Mods where are you when you are truly needed???) DQ was the one here that brought understanding for me about what I was feeling inside while starving for intimacy. As she said in a recent post, there is that sick feeling about 2 days after having sex, even connected sex, the only thing that sooths it is another connection with a committed partner while ML. Until then you are waiting... the awful waiting to feel this way again, to be happy.
DQ gave me hope that it was possible to have a rocking sex life. I never imagined I would get to feel this connected with Mrs. Cinco. It feels so wonderful when we do. I still struggle in between times. I try to keep busy with music, classes, meetings and studies. It only helps so much though.
Until last night it had been about 16 days since the last time we ML. I was hurting so much. Even one day at work my boss asked me if something was wrong. I thought "oh crap I look that bad to everyone?" Of course I couldn't say I was feeling empty because I can't wait to ML with my wife again. I just said I was fine.
Meanwhile all of the addictive thoughts are swirling in my head of wanting to "hook up" or look at porn. I know these things won't ease the way I am feeling, they are empty. It's intimacy that I want. To share myself with my wife and for her to share herself with me... but when will that happen again? Why must I feel this way?
DQ taught me how important intimacy is. I never knew that it was the thing I was missing, I thought it was only sex I needed. It was connected sex that I was dreaming of having and needed to feel whole. I'm on the right path now to finding what I was missing in my life.
Thanks for touching my life in this way DanceQueen. You have given me something to aspire to and made me feel that I wasn't the only one like this.
