aftermath

So. We talked last night. And - it's at an impasse. He can't see himself living for the rest of his life in a low-sexed marriage. I can't see myself faking desire for the rest of my life - and I suppose the ball is in my court - as I'm the one who would have to change. And - it's kinda sad, because in the moment, when it's all emotional and I know that we have just about reached the end of our rope, I'm willing to say or promise anything to keep him there (I guess I do love him deep in the pits of my heart) but in the cold light of morning (or late afternoon as the case may be) -well - I wonder just how much I have to change in order to satisfy him, and whether I should change in order to do it.

I mean - I know me - or at least I'm learning me slowly but surely. I like sex - yes - but I don't like it like I like cheese - something that I want to have on a regular basis and don't think I could ever get enough of. I like it more like I like going to see a big-screen movie - it's fun to do, but if I only do it once a year, I won't really feel like I'm missing anything. Through most of my life, the sex I've had has been - hmmm - inspired by something outside of me. After I left high school, I'd guess that about 10% of the sex I had was sober, and even then it was - an exploration, I suppose you could say. It wasn't something that I felt like I NEEDED - and maybe it jsut was because I knew I could get it anytime I want.  If anything, most of the time it was something I felt like I owed to this other person - fair trade for services (or kindness) given. When I was dating Tasha, sex was how you made friends - instead of swapping trading cards on the playground, I swapped dicksucking across the couch - and really - I didn't mind - it was what was expected. And even then - once I had the freedom in a relationship - and the comfort - it simply wasn't high on my list of things to do with her - or with anyone else.

Then - after not having sex (at least not with a man) for close to nine months, well - I fell into bed, got pregnant, and for a while, swore off of men - more for the fact that the thought of me having a child with any of the knuckleheads I associated with scared the living crap out of me. And if one more gotdamn person tries to tell me that the abortion is the reason I feel the way I do about sex - ESPECIALLY another gotdamn MAN (the women all seem to have more sense) I'm going to slap the taste out of his mouth. But - in looking back over my own sexual history - I've learned/noticed something - even when I was in the height of my slutyears, I never really - desired sex. I desired friendship, and closeness, and snugglies, and intimacy - and quickly found that the fastest way to get all that was to take my clothes off and spread em. 

But that was years ago - and I've gotten older - and more comfortable with myself, and my own worth - and I know that I am worth so much more than just sex - and that I deserve that intimacy and friendship and closeness - without having to fuck someone for it. And so - I've become much more reluctant to have sex (or 'make love') just to satisy someone else.  I'm much less willing to submit my desires, my wishes - especially in such an intimate aspect of  myself - just to keep someone else happy.  I've established boundaries of who I think I am, and who I am happy and comfortable in being - and - I don't know if I'm willing - no, that not true - for him and for our marriage I know I'm willing - but I don't think I'll be happy in the least changing who I am to something that - I'm not - and I'm not really comfortable with.

Maybe it is a power thing. Maybe it is a control thing. But - whatever it is, it's me.

Even still - I'm carrying around the number to my companies mental health hotline. They deal with sexual dysfunction - and maybe, one night, I'll give in and call and ask them to make me want to have sex with my husband. And maybe they will talk me or drug me into it - and maybe I'll be happy and satisifed and still feel like the woman that I am - and maybe I won't become bitter or resentful and feel like the most important part of me is the part between my legs, and maybe I'll get some sort of sense of power from it.  I haven't made a choice yet one way or another - and a large part of it is because I'm forced to wonder - can there be love and devotion and faithfulness and companionship and partnership and - love - between two adults who are attracted to each other - without sex (or with only occasional sex), and without feeling as if they are denying any part of themselves? Or am I an abberation who needs treatment to get over whatever mental block I have that is such a part of me that - I actually consider it part of myself? I like sensuality - intercourse is eh. I love kissing - sucking dick, is eh. I love holding and touching and rubbing and heaven help me if it leads towards sex - it's okay - but it's better somehow if it doesn't. Maybe I'm just still in the humping stage of life. Or maybe I'm regressing. Or maybe I just need to call and they'll tell me that I actually AM okay.

And maybe that's what I'm afraid of most of all.