Yesterday: 206 pounds, 6065 steps, alcohol 3, calories 1476, sleep 5 hours 31 minutes, 60 minutes yoga/30 minutes cardio, masturbation 0
6:21 p.m. Had a tough night. And now I’m ultra tired. OH decided to have a fall-apart last night right before bed, even though we’ve made a commitment to NOT have fall-aparts right before bed. Easier said than done, I suppose, especially when filled with emotional lubricant (alcohol). That’s always when we get the feels, so I can give him that.
A little background: We’ve been struggling. Nothing new there, I suppose…for anyone who’s been following me for any length of time. Seems we spend at least 60% of our life in marital discord. And it’s usually about sex and intimacy. I’m not gonna rehash for those who don’t know the history…suffice it to say, we’ve had some ups and downs (sexually speaking) since way back in 2007 after our son was born. There’ve been some good times, adventurous times, and some downright dirty, filthy, fun times along the way, too…but it seems we always find ourselves back down here at the bottom of the bottle, where my libido has flown and he feels unwanted. Guilt becomes my most central emotion, and hurt becomes his…or maybe it’s resentment…or anger…or (more likely) a combo of all of them.
I’m not going to go into WHY my libido goes or WHERE it goes (three therapists and two doctors haven’t been able to figure that out); all that’s important is THAT it goes. For days, weeks, and months at a time. And I fully understand how that has to suck big, smelly, hairy balls for him. It sucks big, smelly, hairy balls for me, too. (Hope I didn’t offend anyone with big, smelly, hairy balls…or anyone who likes to suck them.) I’m not making light of it with my charming references to anatomy. I really do get it. I feel like shit quite often because I can’t get my libido to cooperate. It makes me feel broken…like I’m a disappointment. Because, like he said last night, he didn’t sign on to be stuck in a sexless marriage.
I get that.
And I’m not ignoring it…even though he often seems to think I am.
Really where his blow-ups come from is a deep place of hurt. We’ve had so many fights over this (we’ve learned not to do that the longer we’ve been married), that it sometimes feels like he’s put the CD on repeat and walked away, leaving me tied up next to the blaring speaker to listen to it again.
I want you to want me.
I need you to need.
I’d love you to love me.
I’m beggin’ you to beg me.
And the hardest part for me is I DO love him. More than anything. And I need him. But the sexual desire is intermittent…which seriously sucks for both of us.
Rock and a hard place, and all that, I guess.
Anyhow, we’ve recently gone for several multiple-week stretches without sex, and he has successively become (understandably) more and more upset. But during our last weekend “State of the Union” talk, he said he’d keep trying, because we’ve promised richer and poorer, sickness and health, good times and bad. You know, the basic vows. And we take them pretty damn seriously.
Seriously enough to suffer.
And yes, I know…suffering is a choice. But, it’s easy for an outsider to say, “Well, just get out of it…you’ll both be happier.”
No we won’t. We’d be miserable without each other.
Again…rock and a hard place.
So, our choice is to keep trying. And keep trying. And keep trying.
Because we love each other. And we need each other. And we understand each other in ways that no one else can. Our humor, our history, our desires.
What I’m left with is…I have NO option other than to figure out my libido problem. How’s that for motivation?
Anyhow, I rambled a bit there.
Last night. The argument (which wasn’t really an argument…more of an uncomfortable conversation) was about the fact that, after he had told me he was willing to try (again.), he actually put his arm around me in bed. (It’s important to note that we have been sleeping basically 6 feet apart – responsible social distancing, yet completely unnecessary and rather disconcerting.) Apparently, I was supposed to get the hint *wink, wink* – you know…take the opportunity to show him he was wanted.
Well, I’ve been taking some supplements, and I do notice a bit of an uptick in the old sex drive, but I did NOT get the message. And the fact that I did NOT get the message meant that he spent the night building up a few more teaspoons of resentment, which, like super stable nitroglycerin, erupted once combined with a few alcoholic beverages.
I repeatedly tried to make him understand that I didn’t know that him wrapping his arm around me meant he wanted me to “make a move.” He repeatedly tried to make me understand that I should have gotten the message as, like I said before, we’d been responsibly and unnecessarily socially distancing in bed for weeks.
It was a circular conversation.
Definition: Circular Conversations – Arguments which go on almost endlessly, repeating the same patterns with no resolution. Spinning the Wheels in a Rut: A Circular Conversation happens when both parties have opposing positions on an issue, dig in, and reiterate the merits of their position ad nauseum.
Eventually, I walked away from it.
This morning, he apologized for unloading on me late at night. And that’s where we left things.
Brigit’s Diary will be the new sub-category for my regular personal experience posts. I’m hoping to paint them with a bit of humor…and yes, you might notice (intentional) similarities to a popular diary written by another Bridget.