Love, life & sex

It had been building between us I guess, me and Martin. He was at his parents with the kids and I had barely heard a word from him the entire 3 weeks they were away. Almost no communication at all. Something felt off but I didn’t push. I figured he needed some space from our frequent arguments. I called repeatedly to check in and say hi and speak to my children and he would answer and put them on the line but he never called me to talk or texted me, not once. When I did get ahold of him all I got was monosyllabic two word answers. As as soon as they arrived back from that trip it was my turn then to pack up and take the kids home to UK to visit with my family for our annual summer vacation . Martin hadn’t been with us on those England trips in many years, his anxiety and tendancy to be panicky and overwhelmed with any thing outside of his comforzone.

Upon my return for my time at home with the kids it became clear he was still salty about something. When he’s in a mood he broods and it just rolls off him in waves and the whole house can feel it. My daughter cornering me asking why daddy was sad. My son ignoring it all like always and hiding in his room. So I pulled him aside and explained that when he’s like that he might think he’s sparing me and the kids by not talking about what’s upsetting him but it actually causes me a shit load of anxiety. I grew up walking on eggshells around my dad because of his moods and vicious sudden outbursts and I hate feeling that way in my own home. It makes me super anxious and scared. He didn’t have much of a response but acknowledged his mood and then he just took off, going out for a drive like he does most nights after the kids are in bed. I sat on the couch in the silence with that awful knot of worry and anxiety in my stomach. When he finally came back I sat him down and I asked him to please just tell me what was going on so we could try to fix it. He then proceeded to tell me that essentially his whole issue was that last time we had sex he was flaccid and I didn’t pay enough attention to his dick and focused on his balls too much and it really bothered him. When we started dating 17 years ago I guess I had said in passing that I didn’t enjoy sucking a soft cock and that really stuck with him and he told me that when I was focused on his balls and not playing with his flaccid dick it made him feel insecure and he couldn’t get super hard after that. I’m dumbfounded by this… THIS is the reason he’s been walking round the house acting like I shot his dog? This is why he’s barely said a work to me in six weeks? I focused too much on his fucking balls?!!!! Jesus. He is so upset about this that he told me that he was crying in his car when he was out on his drive. I tell him I will try to be more sensitive and I will but in my head all I’m thinking is what the actual fuck?!!!!We sorted it out because I placated him and did everything I could stroke his ego but inside I was shouting “get a fucking grip!” And grow up!!! His entire self worth is attached to his dick. I mean maybe all dudes feel that way? But for fucks sake.

I know I don’t really want to fuck him anymore and he can tell. Even when I try and I make myself do it, I know he feels my lack of desire for him. I can see it’s fucking him up. He asks me to try harder, says what’s the bit deal? “ Just think of it like five minute wet hug.” He tells me. “ Can’t you just lie there and open your legs? You know my love language is physical touch, why can’t you see this is destroying my self confidence?” He acknowledged that he gets 90% of his love through physical stuff, sex mainly. And I kind a get it, I know he feels rejected, I see how miserable it’s making him but I can’t bring myself to touch him and when I do I get it over with as soon as possible then leap up and get the fuck out of there. I just don’t have those feelings anymore. Maybe it’s the menopause drying up my sex drive, maybe it’s just the years of fights and disappointments between us, but I can’t fake it well enough. Given the sordid, kinky way our relationship started it’s shocking just how far we have fallen. For him I’m still that girl, 32, horny and down for anything. But I’m not. Not at all. I’m a grown woman who’s suffered loss and depression, who has worked and worked every single day to support my family while he got to stay home and raised our children. It’s that it? Am I subconsciously jealous of him and the cozy life he has had, ensconced in our home, being with my kids, not having to worry about falling behind at work, about being on top always so the bills can be paid. There’s more to it than that, I know but yeah, I resent him a bit. We fight for hours, him crying, then getting angry. He proceeds to tell me that he was so mad at me while he was at his parents for those three weeks that he had been having violent fantasy’s about anally raping me. I’m completely aghast and throughly disgusted by this confession. Me his wife and the woman who he supposedly loves so much, is the subject of his angry debased thoughts. It shocks me to my core. I feel so weirdly violated and vulnerable, and so very hurt. This is all I am to him? all I have ever been? an object, a wet pussy. His slut to be pawed at.

This was the straw that broke the camels back. It was the day I snapped. Years of being hounded for sex, fighting over and over because I wouldn’t give him it as often as he wanted. I tried. I did for years. But it wasn’t enough, And the more he groped and complained the more it turned me off and pushed me away. Maybe I was never as attracted to him as I should have been. Maybe I never loved him as much as he needed. I don’t know. I really don’t know how things got so fucking bad.

The argument finally over, me having placated him and promised to try harder and be more affectionate and available, I go shower before I get into our bed, throughly exhausted by the day. As I stand under the scalding hot water, I feel nothing, absolutely nothing. I’m a shell, just a husk, hollowed out. Water cascading over me a thought bubbles up out of the blackness in my mind. “ If all I am to him is a wet hole to be used, then I’m gonna go out and find someone else to fuck. If I’m going to be objectified, a living sex doll then at least I want to be in control of it” The very next day as I sat on public transport, I downloaded the AM app “Life’s short, have an affair” The landing page says to me. And for the next two years that is exactly what I did. I became the pin up, the sex kitten, the object of men’s wants and needs. But I did on my terms.