My spouse has been groping me for a few minutes in the morning before he gets out of bed, to get ready for work. This way he ensures he doesn’t have to ‘actually’ do anything sexual with me. He ignores me when he has time available to actually be sexual with me. Evenings and week ends are taken up by him ‘being busy’ either actually doing something or pretending to, in order to avoid me and the potential to actually engage in sex.
It’s been three months since he was inside of me, and even then it was for less than 60 seconds. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that if a man doesn’t have regular sex, he is not going to last once he does engage in sexual exchanges. I think I had that figured out by 16. The issue is once he cums, he is done, and certainly he is not going to touch me once he finishes with his own personal gratification, but worse is that he is done for weeks or months.
I am annoyed at the little groping game he plays. I don’t even want to address it with him though. I just can’t even be bothered as it won’t make a difference. He will take it as a reminder, notification that he should fuck me and get it over with, so I will get the 30 second of insertion then back to re-setting the time clock on being ignored again. I can’t talk about my needs with him anymore and that is what I find the most unusual. I have rinsed and repeated for our entire marriage and I don’t have anything left.
I started to write about it on the blog, and went “eh…why bother”. I stopped and moved on to something else, and then I started to actually think about how I feel about it. I am just so done playing his dumb game. Plus, I simply do not feel like playing any of my own. Yes, I could probably entice him to respond sexually by throwing out a suggestion that I was/am/will be fucked by another man, but WHY? All it does is to arouse him into Cumming quickly and not satisfying me at all, and I already LIVE like that. So why let him get any extra pleasure from the fact I have had/will have another man taking care of me sexually?
It’s been a year since the last time I had a knowledgeable man touch me and bring me to passion. It’s been a year since I was played with and consumed with the dedication of a man who loves a woman’s body and bringing her pleasure. It makes me sad that the wasted year of my sexual life being shelved was because I need to feel a sense of trusted friendship and kinship with the man I am with as opposed to simply using his cock as a personal and interactive dildo. I view it as a necessary evil, ‘liking’ the man who is inside of my body. Things would certainly be easier for me if I could just accept casual sex.
But then again, if I did, I would not be who I am and in spite of everything, I do like myself. I know I can not expect a man to magically appear simply because I have need of one. I am aware I have to put my availability out there and search for a partner who will accept a part time relationship where sexual connectivity is a priority but not the single thing that we have between us. The single problem I face, is that I am now suffering from an inherent distrust of a mans ability to be honest and it’s preventing me from looking.
I am swimming in the cold waters of a rough sea, half way between an island and the shore line, not sure I can make the distance to either side and not knowing which way I should go. Knowing I can not stay where I am and fearful to make a choice and then having it prove to be the wrong decision, once I waste the time, effort and energy to get to where I decided to. Staying where I am is wasting much needed resources and energy that would be better used by deciding on something, anything, other than staying immobile by fear and indecision.
Mentally, I got it. To be honest, I think I am getting to the point where my energy level is simply not there anymore. I have fought the battles so many times. Swam the distance, just to head back to the middle again, that I am losing my will to fight forward simply with the bright idea that “hope” will make it all worth while. I know it’s the depressive mood I am speaking with that is coloring my perceptions. But depression feels warm and comforting when I have been alone and cold for so long. It almost feels soothing to lose myself in its familiarity.
It whispers in my ear, that it’s okay to feel sorry for myself. That everything sucks and is unfair and I have been abandoned to my own resources because no one is capable of taking care of me like I am of myself or I that I am intrinsically unworthy of being loved and cared for. It pets me with venomous fingertips, slowly poisoning my reasoning and inner voice that speaks to all my positive traits. It leaves me with a false sense of security and feeling worse than I did before.
Depression is like being in an abusive relationship with yourself except you have to learn to live with it or to adapt to it, because you can never completely leave it behind, no matter how far away you go from it. It’s always having to be vigilant with yourself as depression seeps into your present mood as soon as you let your guard down. Depression is an opportunistic bitch.