10:09

I am falling into one of my worst habits, extrapolating doom.

Or, maybe it's one of my best habits, when kept in check.

I don't know.

But - I didn't expect the reaction I got.

*sigh*

I don't know.

He suggested - on a Friday night, where he has to get up early, and I usually stay up late - that we play the sex cards.

No.

He asked me when I was going to come to bed (as I'm messing with my hair, as I USUALLY do on a Friday), and when I asked why, he said because he's been wanting to play the sex cards.

Which, ya know, he has....but it's not like we haven't been having sex, without the cards even.

Of course, the first time he mentioned them, he said he wanted to play cards, and I got SO excited because I thought he wanted to spend time with me not associated with TV or sex.

But no.

He wanted to play sex cards.

And, so my next yeah (as I've promised MYSELF to keep my no's down to periods when I would truly feel violated by having sex) wasn't nearly as enthuased as the card playing one was.

He retracted, and we played two rounds of cards. One. Two. I won one, he won the other.

Anyhow, that was about - a week? week and a half ago? In between that time, there's been the 'letter'.

And my response, which I'm still too much of a pussy to send - and let him read.

*sigh*

Anyhow.

He asks me tonight, when I'm coming to bed, and I say not too late.

And then...

Maybe that's where I messed up.

I suggested a delay.

Because, ya know, I'm getting poked with needles and swallowing 30 odd pills a day in an attempt to try to get pregnant, and ya know, the problem might NOT even be me.

And ya know, since we had sex THIS MORNING (once again, wasn't worth my saying no), and Fertell requires a two day 'hold', I figured - hey! We can hold off, I can finish my hair, he can get the rest he needs, he can take the test Sunday, and we can play the cards Sunday night.

I mean, obviously, he'll have no problem getting it up twice a day, as that's what he suggested tonight.

'How about we play Sunday night?'

Mild look of - what? Disgust? Disappointment? Anger? Depression? Sulk? crosses his face.

'Fine.'

He looks upset, still.

'Would you mind taking the fertility test Sunday morning?'

'What?'

He's already got the upset/withdrawn look on his face. I'm wondering - did he not hear me? Did he not understand?

'Would you mind taking the fertility test Sunday Morning?'

'What does that have to do with me?'

I just look at him. What - I couldn't even understand the question - what does it have to do with him? Huh?

I begin to explain, and he cuts me off - now, very withdrawn, very upset, very cold.

'Fine.'

I look at him, hoping for something more. He stares back.

"You know that means you can't cum for two days?....."  I ask uncertainly.

'I know, that's why I said Fine.'  Short, now. Brusque. Cold. Withdrawn.

I don't understand. Maybe - maybe he's scared of the results, and that's his only way of expression. Maybe, despite having sex four times in the last week, he thinks I'm trying to dodge him. Maybe...... I don't know. Maybe he has changed his mind, and doesn't want to have kids. Maybe he has no CLUE how important and heartfelt this - journey - that I'm really walking alone - to have children is to me.

I don't know.

But - I'm tired of crying in front of him. I'm tired of crying because of him. I'm - tired, really. I don't have the energy (or according to him, the right) to fight anymore, so why even bother?

I hate love, I think.

We go on, I determine that I'm not going to bed anytime soon, and he starts watching the end bit of a movie.

Silence.

Stiff, silence.

I decide that I'm also in no mood to eat. *sigh* One carryover, I can identify, no, pinpoint clearly.

he gets up, to go to bed, and I get up to refresh the hot towel on my head. He begins telling me about his day tomorrow - long hours, again, as usual. I don't geel the usual surge of love and gratitude - more a cloak of relief that I'll be able to avoid the coldness for at least a day. I wonder - should I be TRYING to have children with him? Is it worth it? Am I repeating my mothers mistakes?

I tell him my plans for Sunday - he's off, but has to go in, and I wanted to let him know when I would be out of the house so that maybe he would time it. I explain, briefly, Mabon, and he says......yeah, you guessed it.

'Fine.'

He asks me whats on my mind, and at first, I say nothing.

No, too obvious of a lie.

Nothing I can put my fingers on.

Ah, that's a lie he'll buy.

He buys it, and goes to bed. Single, hard, cold kiss.

As soon as he's upstairs, the tears start leaking out. I straighten up the kitchen briefly (I've set up recycling bins - why can't/won't he use them?) and come to write.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know how to handle the not giving a fuckness.

I'm pretty sure I'm overly emotional, but.

Ah.

It'll officially be six months in exactly a week.

That just struck me.

Ah, Kendra child, what will you do with yourself and him?

And, I'm debating if I even want to be a midwife anymore - which doesn't help me, any.

And that letter is still sitting heavy on my head.

Am I being too too?

I don't know.

But I do know that I will sit here long enough to stop my tears, do my oilpulling, braid, then rinse my hair, take a shower, and dry off to go to bed with a smile.

At least, I know he won't want sex.

The question is, will he even touch me at all?

10:36