The night before our anniversary, Arwyn announced that there were ants in our bedroom. No surprise, because the shit you saw in the picture before multiplied and was all moved in there when we had a baby sitter over for a school meeting. So now we have ants. She put a few traps down, and then proceeded to get herr blanket rug and pillow and prepare to sleep on the couch. I had thought about playing some computer games, but decided to shut down and retire to the bedroom with my PDA and try to catch up on a few of y’alls blogs.
Before I had gotten home from work, I happened to buy my non-mushy, non-sarcastic card which was still in my truck.
After shaking out the sheets, just in case there was an ant there, I read up on a bunch of your lives and was appropriately moved and entertained by all of you. Then I fell asleep. No mention whatsoever of our anniversary was made nor has it been discussed for probably several months since it was obvious we were not in a place to make a huge investment of time or money. When I awoke, Arwyn was in the shower. I scurried out to the truck, got the card and put it under the bed and climbed back in. When she emerged from the bathroom fully dressed and ready for her day, she saw I was awake, came over, gave me a kiss and said “Happy Anniversary.” I said Happy Anniversary back, and she went about getting the boys up and getting on with her day.
I hadn’t planned on doing much more than the card, really and truly, accept put $20 in with it. So that’s what I did. Now the question was: do I give this to her before I leave, or wait until I get home from work? There was some odd and crazy thinking going on about this, as I weighed options and consequences of said options. I opted to leave the card in the bathroom where she would be sure to see it early in the day. We kissed goodbye and I left for work. Kisses goodbye and hello are not givens, nowadays. They happen fairly regularly, but not always.
After work, but before going home, I composed a letter I thought I might give to her, but I did not finish it. I may or may not post it. All the same, it put me in a frame of mind. So I went home and found she had cooked a spaghetti meal (a favorite of mine) and bought a pie as well as a card. I had to laugh at the card as it was identical in the illustrations, tone and message as the one I gave her! It wasn’t exactly the same, but probably done by the same writer/artist.
Of course, she bought the pie after I had gone to work (probably with the $20 I had put in her card) so she probably found one the same: not too mushy but not too sarcastic. After the kids were asleep, we spent some time talking while in bed. She with her head at her end, and me with mine at the other.
We spent most of our time talking about where we might want to be 10 years from now, and some going over the past 10 years. She acknowledged that she was proud of me for quitting smoking and was afraid of saying anything for fear of ruining my progress. She said I smelled better. That was nice.
She acknowledged that we were both avoiders and we agreed that this was preferred over being fighters, screamers and punchers. However, it made it difficult to discuss things. We agreed that the last 10 years were very hard years. But having experience and history together should count for something, right? We are at a point where we aren’t fighting so much, even if things are not going exactly in a direction either of us wants. This is one of the consequences of having some differing opinions and wants and needs. Neither of us gets completely satisfied. As sad as it is, it is fair in a twisted sort of way I suppose. If it were me, I would be willing to trade off between having what I want for giving her what she wants. Yes, I suppose I could leave cash on the table in the morning if that’s what she wanted. But I’d want the whole GFE to go with it.
But no. Neither of us gets exactly what we want. So we have learned to live that way…sort of.
The conversation never once approached the subject of sex. Not even close. I had a slight notion that my drought had the possibility of being broken, with it being our 10 year anniversary and all. But, it did not happen.
Last time, I mentioned my reluctance to engage in intimate verbal exchange because it left me horny and I would be left hanging. And this was, in fact, the case last night. The drought continues. Maybe I’ll give you a count of the days later. Or maybe one of you can find when my last encounter was. I have no idea.
So that was our anniversary and how we marked the 10 year point. It bore no resemblance to how I would have imagined or hoped for 10 years ago. Is there anyone else out there who imagines the 10 year wedding anniversary being a celebation of celibacy? I think every couple intending on getting married should ask this question: Do you forsee us NOT having sex on our 10th anniversary? If partners give differing answers to this question, I think there is a problem.
This is not the end of the story.
No, you all have been very good to me so I believe you are entitled to a little bit of real drama. And so it was that I made an attempt to have sex this morning. Yes, you read right. I made an attempt, which foreshadows the result…or does it?
This morning, I awoke while Arwyn was in the shower. But I did not make my play for sex then. She got dressed, and went through the room, wordlessly. I did not make my play for sex then.
My oldest gets on the bus at 6:40 and my youngest gets on at around 7:15. After the oldest was on the bus, I made my play. I was ready. It was time for some lovin’.
You thought I was making a play to have sex with Arwyn? Ummmm. No. While our conversation last night was cordial, friendly and even light hearted at times, the chemistry was just not there. See, ladies, not every horny guy is just going to stick it anywhere just to get off. I wanted sex with someone I loved a bit more passionately, and the only person available that fit the bill just then was me.
So I turned on the shower to let the water warm up a bit and then put a towel on the floor and laid down. I suppose every guy have his own ritual in doing himself, and this is one of mine. I’m neither standing or sitting. I am laying down, with water running in the shower, and working myself and my imagination. But things were just not clicking. I knew eventually they would if I was patient, but I didn’t exactly have all day as I had to go to work. I was good and hard and stroking away, letting my mind drift. My traitorous mind was not wanting to concentrate on the project at hand, so this was taking awhile. But I was patient and gradually began sinking into the sea of pleasure that began building and swelling into into waves that were growing larger. Eventually it would crest into a big wave of joyous release. That is, if I was patient.
My bathroom masturbation ritual posture also serves another purpose, although it had never been fully tested up to this point. With me laying down in our small bathroom, my feet are mere inches from a door where the lock has never quite worked right. This makes it physically impossible for the door to be thrown wide open, as it would if I was sitting or standing in the shower. Of course, you all can now see the train wreck ahead.
I was getting in the groove, fully intending on releasing all of that tension that has been building up with all of this anniversary business, and our talk and the no sex forever. I was riding some waves although not yet cresting when the door opened with a thud against my foot. It closed quickly as I sprang to my feet, grabbing my towel. On the other side of this door was a confused Arwyn.
“Where are you and what are you doing?”
I opened the door a bit, but not wide and she was peering in and all over. There was really no hiding or denying. I tried to hold the towel casually in front of me, but my penis was right there, standing straight out just wagging and waving. Even if the towel prevented a full frontal view a look to the mirror would reveal the full profile. A faint smile sort of came across Arwyn’s lips.
“All I wanted was to get my toothbrush!”
I turned around, hung up my towel and got in the shower to wash off my shame. She grabbed her toothbrush and darted out.
Her and her fucking toothbrush. It has been my lot to spend the last 10 years married to the daughter of a (now retired) dentist.
Yeah, I can see a bit of the humor in this, which is why I share it for your amusement and entertainment. But amused was the furthest emotion from me this morning. The mood was absolutely and totally broken. My frustrations and tensions would not only remain for another day but increase. On one hand, jerking off around Arwyn should probably not bother me. I’ve done it many times with her laying right beside me in bed. And those times it does take longer to get off, so if she’s not lulled to sleep by the rocking (or sleeping through it) it costs her some rest, anyway. Since she is not keen to be fucking me, or me having or not having sex (by holding the key to the cage) then I don’t see where she would have cause for complaint except that she finds sex disgusting. At least this is how she acts. Or maybe she finds me disgusting. Either way, I do try to be discrete about it. To me, it really is an embarrassment that I have to do it in the first place.
Let’s make a long post longer by discussing that:
Women have the ability to go days, weeks, months and years without sex. Their drive can go deep into hibernation and emerge only when conditions are right, like the seeds of a jack pine. But men, (I’ll say most men, but it’s hard to imagine any man who doesn’t) have this biological imperative, this pressure and this urge for release. Yes, a man can have a wet dream in order to discharge all the excess pressure, but it is not at all a pleasant sensation to carry such pressure, and wait for some nocturnal genie to come knocking (or stroking) to get you off “naturally.” A married man having to rely on wet dreams in order to secure maximum prostate health is extremely embarrassing. Hence, the self-loving self-indulgence most of us engage in when the wife does not feel like putting out.
Women extend that embarrassment to even greater levels by their ability to take it or leave it most of the time. Sorry, but the sex blogging ladies are simply a very vocal minority. Most women do not feel it a huge loss. Even if they feel the loss, they can get on pretty well without it. Men do very, very poorly without sex. Men do stupid things to get sex. They engage in risky behaviors to get sex and pay tons of money for sex and risk their careers and families to get sex. Women may occasionally take a risk through an affair, but they never seem to go to the extremes that men do. Men are willing to pay a much higher price than women for sex. Women know this, and they see it as one thing: a weakness. The more desperate a man is for sex, the weaker he is. This is why women tend to favor assholes and jerks over the nice guys. An asshole who is getting laid plenty comes off more confidently and women like that. Ask any married guy; when we were desperate and single, we could hardly find a date at all! Once we into a committed relationship with regular sex, they are jumping into the boat! When I was engaged and Arwyn was fucking the bejeezus out of me, women were all over the place, flirting with me! It’s almost like the scent of a woman attracts more women or something.
Having to get off is seen as a weakness. LL women have absolutely no concept of this need and they belittle it, sneer at it and totally disrespect a man for being so weak. Such a man is desperate. All of you women reading this: raise your hands if you are attracted to desperate, needy men! See?
So it becomes a cycle of contempt and disrespect. Arwyn catches me wanking. Her disrespect and contempt for me increases, even though I have not pestered her for sex in months. Having to resort to this makes me feel even more desperate and needy, thus becoming even LESS attractive.
Am I off here? I think this is why most men, especially married men, are self-conscious about masturbation. We do not like talking a lot about it, especially to our partners. Our LL wives do not feel comfortable with it, either, because it involves sex which is already troubling for them. But it also makes them feel a lot less interested in their husbands. Fact is, they would rather not know that it is going on. Don’t ask, don’t tell.
Okay that should be enough to amuse and titillate you all for awhile. I fully expect to rectify this tension business this weekend.