It's been rather hectic around here the last few days. I've forgotten how much time it takes to actively work on a relationship. Not that I'm complaining...
SSM came in the mail. I started it on Friday afternoon. I've read it and have passed it on to H. He said that he will read it. Will wait and see.
In the meantime, we have had a couple of talks.
One talk happened Thursday night. H hadn't gotten his letter done and it was 10 minutes until midnight. I went and got ready for bed and then took my pillow to the couch. He asked me what was going on. I told him that I was serious. Sex might be happening now, but there was still the problem of 8 months that we needed to work through. The initial problem was still there.
He said that he didn't know what to write that wouldn't sound like a bitchfest. All that he wanted to complain about was the typical - help out more around the house. There was silence as I waited for him to continue and then he said, "Ask me any question."
I thought about it for a minute. Did I want to get to the meat of it, or did I want to build up to it. Then I just asked. "What was behind the 8 months of abstinence?"
Apparently, I had made the comment that it would be up to him to initiate, that I wasn’t going to anymore. I don’t remember that conversation exactly, but I could see myself saying that. Anyway, he said that it started with pure stubbornness. A kind of “Oh, you think so, huh? Well let’s see how you deal with it if I don’t initiate at all.” He said that it just sort of snowballed from there.
I’ll admit that my mouth was hanging open with shock. I was baffled, rather speechless, in fact. This whole thing was based on retaliation for some comment that I can imagine myself saying, but don’t actually remember saying? Anger was coming quick.
No, because there had been a steady decline. What about the once a month period? I asked him about that.
He kind of sighed and leaned back against the couch. “It’s just that I don’t really think about sex all that much. Two weeks really doesn’t mean anything to me. And if two weeks go by, and you don’t say anything, what’s another day and another day? And then you just stopped asking for it.”
This didn’t sit well with me. In other words, he doesn’t want to have sex with me. The only time he will do anything about it is when I ask. And it won’t be because he wants it, but because I want it. I didn’t say this to him, it was just going through my head.
We kind of sat there in silence for a few minutes. I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound critical.
“Why’d you stop asking?” He finally asked me.
I had to laugh. “Probably because I said that I wouldn’t ask anymore.”
And then I expounded on this. I told him that I always thought that I wanted him more than he wanted me. “That’s not true.” He interrupted, and I told him that I agree now. I have learned that we just have different drives (And since reading the book, I have learned more).
“But, if possible, put yourself in my shoes for a minute.” I said. “I know that I have a stronger sex drive than you do. I have always been aware of this at some level – even when we were making love every night.
“And because I know that I have a stronger sex drive, I know that I have to be careful not to push that need onto you. So, I didn’t voice it every time that I wanted to make love.”
“Just every other time, right?” He laughed.
I paused for a minute and asked myself if I wanted him to know just how much I wanted to have sex. Would this scare him away? Unintentionally place some demand on him? “Nope, not even that often.” I finally answered, prepared to let it drop there.
“Well, how often do you want it?” He asked. I could hear the exasperation in his voice.
I looked away from him and said lightly, trying to keep any need from my voice, acting as if I were talking about the weather. “I could make love morning, noon and night, if you were willing.”
Women, you know how, when you drop a bombshell, you’ve got to peek up to see his reaction? Well, I did and I started to giggle. I couldn’t help it. His mouth had dropped open. His eyes were bugged and he was more than a bit pale. After a few seconds he seemed to snap out of it and he sagged against the back of the couch. And he began to mumble. “I can’t do that. I don’t think it’s physically possible for me to do that.”
The tears were quick to come to my eyes. Not from sadness, but from happiness. I have never loved anyone, not even my children, more than I loved that man in that moment. I crawled into his lap (something that I haven’t done in ages) and hugged him. “I don’t expect you to.”
Have to get the baby a bath as that’s now one of my jobs on the weekend. Will try to write about our second conversation later on this evening.
