This blog has gotten a bit light on the drama, lately, as I've slipped into this mode of introspective actualization. Don't be fooled. Even in the absence of drama, the potential is always there. Building, waiting and stalking.
So this morning, I just HAD to push the envelope. Arwyn put the boys on the bus while I jumped in the shower. In another life, my lover would join me in the steamy cubicle and we would soap each other up and produce our own steam. But this is not that life. I came out and she asked what shirt I was going to wear and then discussed the weather while I dried off and she lay on our bed, watching the morning news. I came out in just my underwear and proceeded to attempt to ravish her.
Egad. She complained about her back hurting, so that limited what I could do. We hugged and kissed for a bit. While hugging, she was watching the news. More hugging and kissing and me trying not to put too much weight on her. I did manage to get her sweat pants off and it felt really good to have some skin next to mine. But she was not going to let me at her breasts, and certainly not between her legs. She kept blocking my hands with hers. There was kissing and she tolerated this with a lot of grimacing.
Add that one to my list of rules: No grimacing.
The hugging and being close felt royally good…physically. Emotionally, it began to feel more like me engaging in rape. Yeah I could get off and I did. And retreated rapidly. I was going to be late for work.
We get two, 30 minute periods together per week that are child-free. No kids in the house at all. And for the most part, we might talk or chat and nothing more comes of it. But sometimes it might be nice for us to get together for adult fun. Once a week?
Hope can be such a dangerous thing. I keep thinking that once the kids are grown and gone, we can recapture the spark and the passion. But there's an hour a week where I already get a glimpse of that future. My future where I can get cheap thrills by raping my wife?
She tolerates it. But rarely, if ever, initiates. She stiffens and tenses in response to my touch. And grimaces at my kisses. Hope?
Yesterday, I alluded to Red and Andy's conversation in Shawshank Redemption. If memory serves me correctly, this takes place before Andy discovers another inmate who could prove that he was innocent. Once the warden has this witness killed, he throws Andy into a hole for weeks. Hope was apparently broken. But in fact, Andy had been working his escape plan for years in advance of that day. And in the end, he does get the last laugh.
I think it is possible to look at the reality without going into despair. And that means accepting the truth of what truly is instead of being led by a false hope of change. The hope is probably okay, as long as it is not accompanied by any expectation. Does Arwyn want to change? I see no indication of that. No books, tapes, magazine articles or other paraphernalia indicating any sort of willingness. In fact, she doesn't read the stuff she promised to read. I think this is in contrast to FTN's Autumn, who voices some desire to get into a higher sensual and intimate gear.
I accept that a person or a relationship can go through different seasons and this would be winter. But it has been an exceptionally long and cold one. I'm thinking of Narnia where the witch, Jadis, turns the world to ice and snow for a hundred years. I'd rather live in a world with the chick in the shower.