We had sex last night for the first time in a month. Beforehand, I suggested we try to be a little romantic or sexy, since I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get aroused enough. That suggestion got shot down and I was very upset by that. I just wanted it to feel a bit more special and fun, and he flat out told me we didn't need to be sexy, we were just having sex.
So while he was in the shower, I read a bit of erotica online to help get myself more in the mood. It really helped, though I wish that was time spent doing something together. I don't know what, exactly, just something. But when things did get started, I was so pleasantly surprised. My body was ready, my heart was ready, and it felt good and right. It turned out to be really great, loving sex, which is something I've been missing for a long time.
Afterwards we cleaned up and I went back to bed. He went to smoke a cigarette outside. Then he came inside and sat in the living room reading news articles and forums on his phone for nearly an hour. Even after I asked him four times to come to bed. Practically begged. It hurt me to the point of tears.
That might seem silly, but you have to understand something. I have a crush. It's a big crush, but we're not in love or anything like that. We're only online friends who happen to be attracted to each other, but this time both of us understand the reality of the situation. (Unlike last time, when my other crush and I got carried away.) The reality is that I am married, and we live several states away from each other. Unless circumstances change organically and in a very big way, we aren't going to be together.
That being said, over the last few weeks, my crush and I have talked quite a bit. He's very kindhearted, considerate, smart, funny, and an all around interesting and decent person. We've exchanged texts, pictures, and videos that are sexual in nature. In fact, over the last month, that's the only kind of sex I've been having. It's not a regret for me, it's just the reality of the situation. For the last month, I've spent a lot of time fantasizing about sex in more of a way that could be described as making love. Sex that, while incredibly sexy, was very loving and with an attentive partner that often ended in me being held for a long time afterwards.
So last night, after sex that was very nearly exactly what I'd been dreaming about for weeks, to not have that loving partner be by my side to hold me while those post coital hormones were still humming along, it hurt me. It hurt because it had been a month, didn't he know better than to stare at his phone? It hurt because, yes, it's frustrating to be sexual with a person and not actually ever touch them once, and finally being intimate with someone felt like a release of all of that. It felt like living the fantasy I've had for the last few weeks, only to be dropped on my ass by the reality of a husband who doesn't quite understand all the time.
You might condemn me for being sexual with and fantasizing about another man. You might call me naive for comparing the two in my mind. That's fine. But what I'm really getting at here is that my fantasy was a lot more important to me than I realized. It wasn't just about a person, it was about what I've needed to feel, and I've needed it for a long time. Breaking down into tears over something as simple as a little cuddling made me realize that.
He did finally hold me, and we both made jokes about the absurdity of me crying. Even though it wasn't all that absurd, it's what we do in most situations. We joke. It's how we cope. I feel hopeful that this is one of the first steps in fixing a marriage that has been... Maybe not broken, but very damaged over the last few years.
10:07 a.m. - 2014-08-06