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Journal 9/21/2019 a.m.
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.…
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Journal 9/17/2019 a.m.
In the middle of the night, I awoke to His arms searching me out and His words, softly whispered under His breath, as if He wasn’t really awake or didn’t think I would hear: I need you… His hands caressed me, mapped the valleys and hills. I looked at the clock. 2:00 a.m. And though I was tired, I let my body respond. Because, I need Him, too. It’s been far too long since we made love, fucked…anything. But, He has sexsomnia, and I’m often not sure whether He’s consciously engaging and intentionally pulling me in or is simply at the mercy of His body’s stress response. It usually kicks…
