sometimes i just feel naseaus from all my internalized drama.
i’m not really a dramatic girl but i feel some fucking self pity lately. and it just hits me. all day i can be “fine” and even enjoy my husband’s current efforts, and then boom: do some internet searching on low T levels, read some of MMSLP or NMMNG and then a wave of naseua comes over me. then a bigger wave of sadness. then a bigger wave of tears.

4 weeks ago i would have simply said that my husband doesn’t have much sex drive, but the guy is a good man. great father. hot. helpful around the house. handy, great, in shape, wonderful, respectful and supportive and just an overall good, nice guy. great.
i would have said that yeah, i wish he’d have sex with me and look at me and notice what he’s got right in front of him but heck, what’s to complain about really since he is so darn nice to me and the kids.
fine conversation over dinner, pecks on the lips and helpful around the house and with the kids.

yes, i took care of my own needs a few times most weeks. yes, we went to bed at separate times, sometimes me first, sometimes him. yes, i loved him but really never felt “in love” with him at all over the past 10 years. yes, i regretted NOT finalizing that divorce filing 7 years ago.

yes, i told my best friend that if i had the opportunity to have an affair for JUST SEX i would welcome it. i feared the emotional ties and the baggage and the risk of getting involved with someone who would have the potential to destroy my family. and for that reason, i would never really do it. but i talked a lot of smack.

yes, i felt him pull away immediatly when i tried to hug or hold him, that if i tried to hold him close for more than a quick hug that he had to have an inch between us. yes, i saw him flinch physically when i asked for sex. yes, i got myself off laying in bed next to him while he slept after he said he was too tired for sex at 9 pm. yes, i got beautiful for him, put on extra sexy eye makeup, wore tight, clevage showing shirts, wore tight short skirts prancing around in front of him- all without being noticed. yes, i told him stories here and there over the past 10 years of other guys checking me out, random guys complimenting me- all without reaction. yes, yes, yes, BUT BUT BUT. But he is a wonderful man.

fuck, he does the laundry, wraps chrismas presents, does dishes, builds shit in the garage, takes our boys to scouts, gets up every morning at 4:30 to run 5 miles before going to work for 11 hours. he pours my coffee, offers to do things to help me, pays the bills, takes care of the cars, cleans the toilets, and on top of all that, he lets me do whatever i want.

yes, i’ve told him a million times and delivered it in a million ways that i wish he’d notice me, see me, appreciate what he has, want me, desire me, take me, have me. BUT alas, he is so wonderful, earns a great salary, supports me and my endeavors, never tells me no (except for being intimate with me), is considerate, compassionate, kind, and an amazing father.

it’s not even a “please pay attention to me, wahhhhh” it’s more of a “so, do you like this shirt?” (pointing out boobs hanging out.)
— it’s casual. easy. whatever. but it’s nothing from him. it’s always nothing.
i’m angry. always angry, but always quietly. constant disappointment, outrageous frustration way beneath the surface.

so now, no- he hasn’t had a real affair. it’s just porn.
he hasn’t fucked some dirty skank. (that i know of yet.)
he hasn’t quit his job and run off with some other woman and her family.
he hasn’t had an emotional affair. he hasn’t been spending lunches with another woman.
he certainly hasn’t hit me, abused me, thrown away all our money, or gone out to the bar all night long. he is here, never present but often here.

so why do i feel so god damn betrayed?
for OUR ENTIRE FUCKING MARRAIGE, for the past ELEVEN GOD DAMN years, when he would FORCE his dick in to me, after cringing through 25 seconds of “foreplay” and then spitting down there to get it in because he never tried to make me wet, he would pay his duty sex. the sex i whined about not getting. the sex that he didn’t want to deal with, but knew he had to do it because as i said, “i want sex.”

he dealt with it, got through it, once every few weeks or so. goal of once a week but of course that didn’t happen.

mean while, practically EVERY GOD DAMN NIGHT AND DAY he would be jacking off to porn. up on the couch after i go to bed. on the couch in the morning while i sleep. oh, and when he travels, (and other times probably) maybe 3 or 4 times a day.

REALLY?

i sat in the doctors office yesterday morning with an order for an HIV and full std panel order slip in my hand.

because what was one of the most frequently and recently visited websites on his phone, oh yes, the find-a-hooker prostitution website. all the way down to the local description of which street corners 10 minutes from our house, to get a good blow job for $50. Who to ask for at what massage places to get a hand job. Or more.

so now, what do i have? i have a husband who i’ve TRIED AND TRIED AND TRIED to please. you like long hair, let me grow my hair out. you like big boobs, let me wear these tight shirts to show my clevage for you. you like a tight ass and long legs, let me work out more and then wear this for you. OH BUT WAIT. you never fucking notice. you say these things and then here i am, working my fucking ass off to achieve what you have YEARS AGO conveyed that you liked, and you do not give a shit.

you like this fancy dinner, let me make it for you and have it on the table when you get home from work. you like it when i keep the counters cleared off, let me make them spotless for you. you like my hair when i straighten it, how about i straighten it for you. all of these fucking preferences you said years ago, i have done them a fucking thousand times all without notice.

now, he hasn’t even said these thiings in years. he has checked out completely. he has nothing to say because his preferences are so far buried he can’t even think of what might be attractive about me any more.

i’m not one to whine “honnnney, did you like my hair today, hoooooney, isn’t the house nice and neat?” just fucking notice. SEE WHAT YOU HAVE.

it’s not FAIR that he works and i don’t. okay, you want me to pay someone else to raise our children while i work, no problem honey, let me get a job. let me make 40, 60, 100,000 a year. happy yet, want me yet?
will that make you see me, touch me, love me, want me?
oh, no- as a matter of fact, that doesn’t even phase you either. BECAUSE NOTHING PHASES YOU.

it’s not FAIR that you didn’t talk to your parents so you don’t want me to talk to mine?
WELL, GOSH okay honey, i dont really want to cut mine out but i’ll talk to them a lot less, is that okay honey?

you don’t like it when i swear, okay honey, i’ll try to swear less. well fuck that.

I WANT TO be submissive to my husband. to give him makes him happy. to support what he desires. to BE WHAT HE DESIRES.
And in turn, I wish to be desired.
but when NOTHING THAT I DO can earn his love, what the fuck point is there?
but no matter what mother fucking hoops i jump through, no matter what i do, wear, say, cry about, don’t cry about, don’t care about, where i go, who i talk about, what i tell him, what i don’t tell him, how close i am, how far i am, nothing fucking matters.

it has been 10 years. i’m giving him the first year or so that he did see me. SEE me, as in observe what he had and enjoy it. enjoy what i had to offer, accept and take what he had in front of him, happily. He touched me then. Until the parking lot sex. The parking lot sex ruined him.

over the TEN FUCKING YEARS he has had me, he has not ever noticed me, never let me in to his heart and never tried to hold mine.

but porn, porn got his attention, got his sex, got his orgasms, got him aroused. porn got his desire, his erections, his eyes.
Porn was in his thoughts, on his radar of things he wanted to get off to. he looked at porn, looked forward to porn, enjoyed porn and gave himself to porn.
never me.

that is all.

sometimes i cry and i feel stupid that this is all about porn. that it HURTS MY FEELINGS like a fucking pussy that he fantasizes and gets off to STD ridden porn stars with their tits flopping around. Makes me feel like a god damn idiot.

I should be thankful because he is TRYING NOW. and that does count for something, it sure does.
i am thankful. i should be thankful. i am trying to be thankful and when he puts in so much effort and DOES TOUCH ME these past few weeks, jesus i love it. it feeds my soul, replinishes all that i have worked for for so long. i have been in a desert. with no water. working and working and working and working towards the god damn drop of water. and now i have it. so i love it.
i love being touched.
i love being seen, felt, kissed, caressed, SEEN.

20x i have texted a friend, “my husband had an affair.”
he hasn’t.
but i can’t say “my husband has been neglecting me for porn” because that sounds fucking ridiculous and any reasonable person would be like: wtf, big deal, great?
so instead, i say nothing.
nothing.
i sit here and wallow in my own ridiculous stupid self pity.
i sit here and cry in front of my kids and tell them if they notice, that i’m sad for a friend.
i lie to them. to my friends.
to myself.
i lie to myself every time i think this may work. this may be real. because it will fucking never be real. he doesn’t want to get divorced.
i don’t want to get divorced.
so i’ll take this and have a shred of hope that it may stick.
i’ll do whatever i can to make it stick. to “help him” work out his childhood issues, to understand where his issues come from, to help make it stick.
i can’t imagine being the recipient of his attention for more than another few weeks. but how amazing it would be if i could.

long rambling self pity post.

struggling to get thru the waves of naseua and tears without telling a friend, a local, here close to me friend, the truth about what i am going through. but it just doesn’t make sense to someone who doesn’t know, no one would understand.
it would be so much easier if he’d had an affair. there would be real support then at least.

struggling with the feelings inside my body, in my stomach, rising in my throat and in my heart.