What was I thinking when I married this man? Was I that desperate for love that I decided to ignore all our differences just so I could paint a perfect life. An image that never stood up to the reality. We are so opposite in so many ways I wonder how it is that we are even amicable at best. We get along rather well for two people who have polar views on almost everything. I sat in disgust as he watched a hunting show. At first it wasn’t too bad, as they were planning on eating the animal but then they proceed to “accidentally” run over a mother sow and then dispatch her with a knife. I could no longer watch. We talk about politics like we are at the pulpit on opposing debate teams. He sits to center right and I center left, rarely meeting in the middle.
I have had a few husbands stop by here and make comments, usually loving and supportive about their wives who have come out to them. I have also come out to my husband and have tiptoed into exploring who I am at a snails pace. I find thier remarks so comforting and loving. I wish for any woman who is going through this, have a man like that by her side. I know from experience that it makes it harder to figure stuff out but at least you have a best friend to help you hash it out. My husband has been an amazing listener and friend when I’ve really needed him to be. My family is a bit much and he’s very much an anchor for me.
But I have a confession to make, my husband is addicted to sex. (If you’ve read my blog, you probably already figured that out.) I have seen it over the years wax and wane with his proclivity for porn. I no longer buy it for him, so my guess is that he gets online and surfs the assortment of free goodies from time to time. I only confess this as it deeply affects me when he is bingeing on these images. He tries not to do this often but when he does, he will act like each sex act has done nothing more than fan the flames of his desire. Fortunately, one time is enough to satiate him for an evening, but he comes at me each evening acting as if I was withholding his drug and that he hadn’t had it in forever. He doesn’t get mean, he just pouts and turns over after much unsuccessful prodding.
I had never resented having sex with him until he made me feel like it was my duty. Now, I understand the whole “We are married, and you’re my only source for sex, so please hook me up once in a while.” But there has to be some give on each side. I gave in to the fact that I wanted to be with a woman when I married him, but thats on me, not on him. I gave him lots of fun for many years before we had kids and then many after we had them. My libido has wand moderately but my passion has all but fizzled out. His, on the other hand,his is on fire and burning me out. He stays up way too late every night in hopes to get a piece and when I fail to deliver he grumbles into his pillow and falls asleep only to wake up tired and full of resentment. He carries that with him all day and then when he gets home his attitude dips again with the din of children and a frazzled wife attempting to throw together a dinner as he attempts to cop a feel. Dismissed, he waits till she finally retires to bed where he tries yet again. His efforts go into getting her unclothed and not much more. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great lover, but the thing that makes lovemaking beautiful is lost in the his fever to get his fix. He thinks that I too need a fix and not much else.
I have explained to him how objectified I have felt in the past and he has tried to be less grabby and more respectful but the 22 year old that laid the foundation for our sex life (me) unknowingly built it on sex and the objectification of women. I was young and thought my body was something I gave, not shared. I did not understand the implications of giving away so much that it spoiled the man I loved. I did not understand that I ignored so deeply a part of myself that never wanted to be given away or even shared with a man. I hold all of this on my shoulders and do not blame him for a foundation we built together. He didn’t know about his addiction to sex, as most of us call that being a 20 something. My guess is that he traded in his addiction for alcohol for it. He was smack dab in the middle of going down that rabbit hole when we got together. I didn’t mind being his drug either.
Now, years later, I am older, sometimes wiser, and know what I want more than ever. Being someone’s drug is not it. I don’t want to be the only thing in anyones life. That’s not fair to me and currently that is what’s happening. I am his only thing. That is what is so maddening and scary and sad. I want more for him than that. I want more for myself too. I have given up so much of who I am and when I let that part of myself out, it flourishes. It also scares the shit out of my husband. His drug may not be there for him, even though his wife ALWAYS is. My physical body is gone on a trip or at an event ad when I’m done it may be too tired to give him a dose. That is why I rarely paint. That is why I feel torn when I do my own thing. I am very loyal and yet I yearn for women and have staved that part of myself with precision. I don’t know how much longer till that line is blurred and my words and worries will fall like autumn leaves to be devoured by a cold chill of change. I hope that he would forgive me. I know that eventually spring will come and we warm to each other as changed people. But first I have to write my heart down and hope that he doesn’t tear my thoughts up. I have to. Where can I find this strength? I have been so depressed that I am sapped of it. I shy from my blog as it screams my words back to me that I don’t want to hear.
I don’t know anymore. I am lost.