So I haven't had much a sex drive for the last month or so. Told my W, and she was thrilled. I was pretty angry at her for this reaction, and let her know it, so she chilled out for awhile. The month wore on. I can remember the last time that I hadn't been aroused at least one time each day. It's usually many times a day. I just figured it was a result of age, and maybe, of some of the meds I'm on. I went with the feeling (or lack thereof) and decided that I'd just try to work on the relationship issues, without muddying up the pond with sex. But I still wanted to touch and be touched, which I did.
Things were going fairly steady. We had some fights about stuff, usually about how I failed to do something exactly the way she would have done it. But for the most part, she has had less to complain about because I've been keeping better organized (keeping a list handy), keeping the house reasonably clean, my ex-wife was out of town for 10 days, and hey, I've not been "pressuring her" for sex (said pressure has, for the past 6 months or so consisted merely of having my penis attached to my body, not true "pressure" in the form of requests, etc.)
In fact, things were going pretty well this weekend. We were at a blues festival, and I gave her a kiss, and decided to prolong it, and it lasted almost four seconds, which had probably not happened in a year. Then, we had this obnoxious guy behind us who insisted on yelling, "WOOOOOO" periodically during the band's performance, and we called him Woo-man, and I said that I was going to kiss her every time he did it. I ended up kissing her about 10 times during this one song, after which we agreed to stop. It was fun and cute.
We had a pretty good weekend.
Another detail: As I mentioned last week, she and the MC think I may have ADD. So I saw the doc, took the tests, and he said he'd put me on the meds and, if I got "hyper" or otherwise felt hopped-up on speed, then I didn't have it, and should discontinue the meds. I took the meds. Did not feel hyper. In fact, since taking it for the first time Saturday morning, I've felt somewhat like a fog has lifted, and that I'm thinking more clearly. I'll continue to try it and see if the benefits outweigh the risks.
Maybe it's related to the medicine, or maybe it's just a coincidence, but I was horny for the first time in a month on Saturday. And I was horny again, Sunday.
Sunday night, we were at home and I had more than my usual one or two glasses of wine. I had about three. Or maybe four. I can't recall.
Went to bed. Drifted off. Woke up about half an hour later and was very horny. I knew she was asleep. I did something that I wouldn't normally do if I was very horny, but sober. I thought to myself, "I would love to touch her breasts. Maybe she'll wake up and want to ML!" I know I must have been drunk, because the W I know would never wake up with me fondling her breasts and want to make love. Why I thought she would this time can only be attributed to inebriation or temporary insanity.
So I felt them. Have I ever told y'all about how great my W's breasts are? Let's take a moment. (My apologies to my sexually-frustrated brethren on the board). They are soft and full and heavy and big and have great nips that go "boing!" when you play with them. They are smooth and they smell like a woman and they are oh so tasty. But it's like starving to death in a house full of wonderful-smelling and delicious-looking food. I can only use my eyes to behold them. I can't even get close enough to smell them. And I certainly can't touch them.
This is where I'd love to write that she woke up, purred softly, and we melted into each arms, making love passionately until the sun rose. Alas, dear reader, this did not occur.
Rather, she awoke, grabbed my hand and pushed it away. She said something like, "WTF do you think you're doing?" and stormed out of the bedroom. Then, she stormed back in, said that I should be the one sleeping elsewhere, and I left, not wanting to fight about this, and desperately needing some sleep since I had suffered a sleep-deprived night Saturday.
I woke her this morning with an apology. She was, not surprisingly, still pissed. She called me on her way into work and gave me more lectures on what a violation it had been, how selfish I was, how evil my sex drive (and man's sex drive in general) is, and how she can't trust me.
Mea culpa. (for those without classical Latin training, or a legal background, or the desire to go look it up, that means, "I am guilty.") Hairdog stands under the dark clouds, tearing at his garments, crying out "Mea culpa!" over and over again.
Or not. Sure, it was stupid of me to think that she would wake up and be aroused. Wine, and the return of my long lost libido had a lot to do with it, although it doesn't exuse my behavior. To me, though, it sure helps explain my stupid thinking, my failure to fully think out the possible consequences. But I accept full responsibility for my actions. I did it. I felt my wife's gorgeous breasts through her tee-shirt. I even did the "boing!" trick, and felt satisfied when the little guy stood at attention.
I remember thinking about that time when I asked her how she likes me to initiate, and she said that she likes the way I touch her breasts, and that that is usually enough. Of course, the context of that breast touch was the more familiar Sunday morning breast touch while spooning. I know that's what she was thinking of when she answered the question. At the time, that's what I was thinking about as well.
But in the dark, in my ardor, in my alcohol-muddled mind, I thought that great things might happen. Once again, I admit that this potential for passion has no basis or foundation in the history of our relationship (other than once when she woke in the middle of the night after returning from a two week trip to China and we made love. But I discount the significance of that night-time event as it was about 2pm in Beijing, and her mind was still in that time zone, even though her body was not.). We are afternoon or early morning lovers, when we ML at all. As the more seasoned of you know, we ML about twice a year.
She is still wallowing in self-righteous indignation. I tell her that I have already apologized. She insists that I don't understand my wrong to her. I listen to her explanation, and am able to recite back to her why I deserve The Rack, or some similar torture.
I know what I did was wrong. I take responsibility for that. But sorry, I think she's over-reacting. I suspect that what she really wants is to have conflict with me, have a reason to treat me to a heaping helping of criticism, and to withhold physical touch from me, and to me.
She can choose to wallow. I can choose to apologize (which I did), to remember that I should never touch her breasts or other naughty bits without her clear consent (which I will do), and to move on with everyday life (which I am doing).
Annette asked me how I was doing. I think I'm doing fine, annette, considering. Thanks for your concern.
