To say that I’m disappointed is an understatement. The habit of disengaging for the entire weekend was the reason my husband and I started the 365 day sex challenge. I needed more connection, more life together, and we couldn’t figure out how to accomplish it without trying to force a round beg into a square hole.
But my husband seems to have let our challenge go completely. I let the checklist go last week when he called me “the rule maker” assuming he’d pick up the torch where I left it. So far, he hasn’t. I guess jacking himself off is quick and easy and it’s better than making love to a woman who requires too much energy and takes too long to please, if she’s even pleased at all.
Last night he got home at 9pm. It was Sunday night and he spent the morning and early afternoon working on the RV resort. I received a text around 5pm asking if I wanted to take a boat ride, but I declined. I’d spent the beautiful spring day outside working in our yard and was finishing up when his invite came in.
He spent his evening relaxing on the boat, sending me pictures of the sunset. And like clockwork, he arrived home exhausted, maybe even a little drunk, and fell right to sleep within an hour. He didn’t touch me once yesterday, nothing, nothing, nothing, which left me alone in the dark of night with only my thoughts. Day 14 of no sex in 2019.
Tuesday night: We were both tired after the awards ceremony. No sex.
Wednesday night: No sex
Thursday night: No sex
Friday night: Sushi date. No sex, because he had to get up early in the morning to fish.
Saturday night: I left drag show so we could make love and yet felt numb the entire time. He did nothing to excite me or pleasure me and fell fast asleep.
Sunday night: He came home late, drunk, and fell asleep. No sex.
If I focus solely on the positive, I’d say we’re very much in love with each other. I encouraged him to go fishing because I knew he needed it, and I was happy that he went out on Sunday night to catch the sunset. He deserved that too!
What I most dislike is the feeling that there’s no energy left for us at the end of the day. I feel like I get the crumbs, I get the tired guy, I get the can’t keep his eyes open guy. I feel like connection with me should be a priority, like progress at the resort property and the weekly commitment to martial arts classes, but our connection feels like an afterthought at best. And now that I’m not touching my clit and climaxing so easily anymore, being with me sexually has taken on an entirely new flavor. There’s more work than ever before.
The drama queen inside wants to make a big deal out of it. She wants to sound the alarm and rally the troops. She wants to establish a new goal and set it into motion. “The Rule Maker” wants to do what she does best, create checklists for fun and make sure everyone’s fulfilling there’s.
I’m not going to do that, though. My husband said a few nights back, “we’re going to be together forever,” so why worry? We can weather a week or two of exhaustion and month or two of disconnection. I’m not going to be my usual prevention self fearing every symptom is the early onset of a fatal problem.
But what if the bad habits create more bad habits? What if we stop connection altogether? My mind is fearful as usual. She tries to control everything because she’s scared of losing it all. I’ve had a beautiful love get lost in the abyss of indifference. And it’s hard to know what is a natural phase of life that needs to be accepted and what is a disaster waiting to happen that, had someone tried to manage it, could have been prevented.