This weekend was glorious.

Friday night he had to work late and rush home to pick me up and take me out the door back to another work thing. I wore a airy red and white polka dot wrap around dress that was a low V scoop and tied on the side. I had black tights in my purse to put on after we (hopefully) had car sex before going in to the event.

We sort of “planned” car sex.

So we go, tons of traffic downtown, get into the parking garage, he has me give him oral while finding a parking spot. We get up to the top level and park, climb into the back seat, I suck some more, he’s very nervous I think. Not that hard. We try a few different ways and it just isn’t happening. Too cramped. I think that the key is that I need to climb on top of him as he sits in the regular seat. I am so bad on top, this hinders me often. I have no confidence and just really don’t know what to do.

So it’s not happening. I’m disappointed.

The secret in my head (and I imagine he knows this on some level) is that in 2003 the isolated infidelity– he fucked another girl in her car in the parking lot of a bar. When I was pregnant with his first child and away on business. This wounded my innocent, naive 23 year old self very much and ever since then, I’ve been car-sex scarred. Couldn’t even think about it.

So here we are, 10 years later, turning a big new leaf. I thought I wanted to try it. To overcome that internal fear and to enjoy it. I know some people that have car sex on every date and I would LOVE to do that!!!! LOVE! Would love to have the passion and desire OUT on the date instead of having to come home, pay the babysitter, get upstairs, undress, etc etc etc to have more bedroom sex. Nothing wrong with bedroom sex but other sex would be really fun.

So… I tried to hide my disappointment and sadness at the car sex not working. We went in, the event itself was not that fun. I just wasn’t feeling it. Sat next to people I enjoyed but just in general was kind of “eh.” We were very sweet and touchy with each other which was nice.

Got home, pay babysitter, eager for her to leave because we’re so tired. Get up to bedroom and he’s in close facing towards me. I divert my eyes and untie my dress so it all falls open and falls down to the ground. Facing him. As he is facing me. Nothing happens so I look back up at him and he’s not there. I expected him to come toward me, come embrace me, take me, devour me. Instead, he did and said nothing audible. My heart broke a little bit and I put on a tank top. Left on the thong I’d been wearing (which is a special sign of “please take me” because I have worn a thong about 1 time in the past 10 years.)

Now I’m at the bathroom sink brushing my teeth. Wearing a tank top and thong. He comes in and stands next to me, rubbing my back and shoulders. NEVER MOVING HIS HAND TO MY ASS.
I’m dying inside, growing so so angry. Hurt, rejected, frustrated, angry.

We finish, I walk to my side of the bed and say “what the fuck is wrong with you, why do you always turn into an idiot on friday nights?” (the last two friday nights set the stage for a really heartbreaking weekend.) He of course was confused and shocked at this seeming to have come out of no where.
God damn is that frustrating.
I convey that I dropped my dress right in front of him and he did not acknowledge it. I convey my disappointment and feeling of rejection that he was not all over me standing at the bathroom counter with my ass hanging out. My voice is raised too loud, too late, and my husband looks bewildered at what I’m saying.

I am very angry. I don’t know exactly what he said or did, I’m sure he threw out a few I’m so sorry’s, I know he said something about getting his clothes ready for the next day and he thought he did say something when I dropped my dress (words mean nothing in this instance), and he was sorry for making his CLOTHES PICKING OUT the priority.

I was irate. I do not know how he did this, logistically because I really was so angry, but he must have done something to get me lying down and he started to just get on me. I kept saying I was angry and he kept saying he knew, and was sorry, while he kissed my neck, chest, held me down…
I’m throbbing a little just thinking of it.

He TOOK CHARGE, accepted what he had done wrong, was apologizing for it in words and actions, and softening me up. Finally, as I kept saying “stop it I’m angry”… and he didn’t stop (thank god), finally he came up and looked at me and I again said “I’m too angry for this” but I FELT the smile come across my face.

It wasn’t intentional, I wasn’t trying to play him, I really WAS mad but it really DID feel good to be taken and attacked despite my protests. It was beautiful. The sex was good.

Saturday we both got up early. I had a major food breakdown. He worked in the morning, when he came home, I was depressed and lethargic on the couch. I told him I had a severe problem and felt disappointed that he never helped me. I told him that it wasn’t his job to fix me or help me or do anything for me, that I knew I was a self sufficient adult, but I wished he would have stepped up and DONE something for me months ago. That I’d wished he’d take charge and just do what needed to be done to help me.

We talked about this a lot. I came to understand that in my own heart, I needed him to act almost as a parent to me, which is not healthy, but sometimes it’s what people we love need to have.

It was good. Frustrating and a little awkward but still good.

Saturday night we had nice family time and later, sex. Sex seemed a little forced, maybe not great in comparison to most of our sex lately but it can’t all be amazing. He wanted me to finish him with my hand and I was hesitant to do this. I want him to love my vagina, not love a hand. A month ago when he was getting hooked on my hand instead of wanting to come inside me… RPW pointed out that that wasn’t good, and I did some research that confirmed. He must recondition himself to connect orgasms to me, via intercourse, not hand. Sometimes mouth/hand is okay but no PiV to hand. Either no orgasm, or orgasm the vagina way.

So he did stay in, did give me his orgasm, and it was good. He said he is getting tired, like his penis is “tired out” like muscles feel when you start working out and they’re all sore. I didn’t know if this is odd. But I guess it makes sense.

I think the passion and excitement of very frequent sex might be wearing off. We need to spice shit up and sometimes do other positions and areas.

Sunday, he gave me the gift of sleeping in. I read my book on sexual betrayal in the morning when I woke up leisurely at 8 am… it was troubling and healing. Gave me a few ideas and pushed me to want to find a support group for myself.

In the afternoon, when the 3 big kids were watching a movie and baby was asleep, we had beautiful afternoon sex AND THEN lounged naked in bed, zoning in and out of naps for a good half hour. Who knew?! It was dreamy.

Sunday night we talked about stuff again. That drains me fast and makes me just want to mentally check out. I fell asleep with my boob in his hand (my favorite, which I’m hoping he’ll start to love) and slept all night. We talked about divorce, committment, his recovery stuff, and all of that. We pray together every night.

Good weekend.

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