In the meantime, I have begged for attentions. He would not even wash my back or any touch at all, for he was sure that with a dysfunctional organ, I could not be satisfied. I was appalled at the realization that he was not aware I could climax with foreplay. He considered foreplay a method of facilitating his release. Love making to him had no other meaning than ejaculation.

I am aware of others, who have some difficulty with their bodies not cooperating, yet they have the mindset to be connected in the joys of togetherness, foreplay, affection of love making and it's giving.

I convinced him to try other things and it was an assault of grossness and deliberateness akin to porn-fornication. He has no clue about the melding of soles of making love and intertwining. As a result, I no longer seek his attentions. The longing has broken me. The painful truth is a cancer in my sole. The only way I can cope is to divert my energies, and be a zombie at other times. We may have all had a fairytale view of what married life should be. Survival is what it has turned out to be for me.

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at every turn. Edna St. Vincent Millay