So our house sale fell through, for a second fucking time. We haven’t had sex in, like, 2 weeks, and our Saturday belongs to youth soccer.
Conditions are not ripe for “re-connection,” and I’m sort of dreading Sunday’s “Marriage Talk,” as He’s been alluding to it all week (We’ll talk about it Sunday…). Might as well add the theme song to Jaws to my weekend, too, just to really set the mood of high anxiety and impending doom.
Hopefully, there will be no blood in the water come Sunday evening.
We’re getting snippy with each other, though, in the interim. His mood is dropping, and mine, as expected, is following. Sometimes, I think waiting until the weekend to talk is not always best. But, it’s hard to find an appropriate time to talk when the kiddo isn’t in earshot and we haven’t already had a glass of wine and we aren’t exhausted.
We’ve learned the hard way (and fought about it) that we have to have our hard conversations (the ones where we have a propensity to get emotional and I tend to get irrational and shut down) earlier in the day. We’ve been doing a lot better with this, but at a time like this, where I can visibly see Him nosediving emotionally, waiting seems like maybe the exact wrong thing to do. Things just get worse in the meantime.
I also already feel like I know where the conversation is headed: we aren’t having sex, He needs it, I don’t initiate, He feels unwanted/unloved, I’m the root of the problem…so what am I gonna do about it?
I could give excuses, but I won’t. I could give solutions, but, after 12 years of having this discussion in cycles, I have nothing new to provide.
We moved, the work year began…my focus shifted to that (for wrong or right), because I only have so much energy to give the world.
We settled, I settled at work, and I got sick (not my fault).
And now, I’m back. I feel better and I have more energy to give to my priorities (my Husband, my family, and my writing).
But, now He’s down. And historically, I follow pretty quickly. Our moods are pretty synced. And since both of us battle depression, that can be recipe for disaster.
Yesterday, I snapped. He said something, and the tone of it just hit me wrong. Voice raised, I told Him that just because He’s down it doesn’t give Him the right to be an asshole. I huffed and stomped my way through the next 15 minutes, trying to get shit ready to leave for work.
When I got dressed (yesterday was a “no-panty” day per our D/s agreement”) I pouted my way through avoiding underwear. I highly considered wearing them because I was angry, but I didn’t.
We stilled kissed good-bye (lightly and without passion…intentionally cool) and said I love you. Because that’s what we do, even when we’re mad or at odds.
When I got home and slipped into my lounge-wear, I still opted not to put my underwear on, because D/s is a deep thing, and apparently I’ve now been “trained” in that regard.
I was low last night, though. He feel asleep on the couch before dinner, and I got tired of the quiet, so I went and laid down for awhile. I took a bath, we watched some TV. And that was it. Now, hours in the car together for a travelling game.
And tomorrow, we face the music (and wash the dogs…which is also worth of this theme song).