The last few times we have been together, I have been very guarded. I have been unable to even converse naturally with him. The walls were high and thick. This was a conscious choice that I made, on some level. I didn’t want to/couldn’t seem to let myself let him into my heart for fear of him hurting me. Reasonable. Or if not reasonable, certainly understandable.

Today, I made a conscious decision to love him. To let myself feel his love, to open up to him. I breathed deeply this morning and thought in my head: I want to let him into my heart.
I want to talk to him like a friend, love him like my husband.

I accomplished this.

He came over with the kids, baby was ill. He was taken aback by my appearance, distracted by my hair, my cute shirt, everything. I appreciated that he noticed these things and was enjoying the sight of me.

I took care of the baby, sitter arrived, we left. He opened and shut my door for me.

We conversed about natural things. I was being open and conversational, warm and friendly. I was touching him and him me, I was not closed off like I had been so severely the past few times.

On the car ride and into the restaurant, we talked about my hurtful Saturday night, about a friend/neighbor’s drama, the boys at his apartment this weekend, spiritual stuff and religion, telling the kids about sex, taxes, attorney stuff, his new office at work, who will be jealous of it, the different people he’s been talking with on the phone and bits about what they share, lots of stuff.

It was wonderful. He chose to sit next to me instead of across from me, which was really nice.

He held my hand and touched my leg.

He said things during breakfast like how he liked just looking at me.
I caught him looking at me adoringly when I was eating or looking elsewhere- it felt really great.

We talked about how his nightly email left me feeling like it was “clinical” and task oriented rather than opening up, which is the goal. He said he didn’t feel like that was worth an apology. This didn’t bother me. In retrospect though, I think it was a sign of what was to come. He was starting to close off to me last night in that email, and it only got worse x50 today.

We sat & talked more after eating, we talked about the next step of his recovery being about really accepting and processing the spiritual side of his development. I talked about what I believe, as did he. Then I was hit by some sadness. I told him that the more love I feel for him the more vulnerable and scary it feels sometimes, he said it’s okay. I got teary a few times when talking about trust and how to move on.

Something that sticks with me is just a month or two before the big find out, we had a casual conversation about wives who keep a secret stash of cash from their husband. I think he knew I had a little “babysitting” money that I kept for cash for sitters, but I have a good several hundred. More than needed per week (or even per month) for sitters. I confessed this. It wasn’t a big deal, I just said that I had it. He asked where it is, I said in my sock drawer. No secret about it, just not something I’d told him before.

He then stated: hm. I have no secrets. I have no secret stash of money- there’s really nothing you don’t know about me.

I said, nothing at all?! Teasingly. He confirmed: nope. Nothing.

That makes my eyes burn now just writing it. I need to sit with that hurt and get it out of my body.

Anyways, back to today.
So we come back after a really great date. More conversation about the importance of marriage, commitment, etc. He is maintaining that he is 100% committed to me now, and that “marriage” won’t discourage his commitment.

So back home— I take care of the baby, he does my dishes in the sink. I wish he came up to see how beautiful his wife is handling his infant, but he chooses to take care of the dishes and get the laundry started instead.

He then does man stuff that I think is genuinely awesome- jacks up my car to change the brake pads that he had purchased earlier for me before our road trip. Very manly. Puts on his man garage outfit to stay warm. Sexy.

He knows what he’s looking at, determines the brake pads don’t need changing. Hot.

Takes it for an oil change and stops at his apartment to get something he left there for the baby. Great. Buys me a radio thing for my iphone. Wonderful.

Gets back home again, in the meantime, I’ve fed the children and made them snack cups so they can go watch a movie in the basement while we go to our bedroom. I put the baby back to sleep, get ready for sexy time.

Get situated, start getting it on. I start with my shirt on. He does not immediately request that it come off.
He does take it off eventually and it’s not a big deal. As in, he doesn’t stare adoringly at my breasts, they’re just there, and we keep making out. Soon, he touches them, just a little.
I don’t like how passive he is being about my body (breasts) so I start getting upset. I want him to LOVE THEM. He has such self proclaimed obsession with huge breasts —> turned “no actually I really like yours — then he DOES NOT act like it, so there we have it. More rejection and “proof” that the huge breast obsession was in fact, true. That’s how it spins in my brain because of the things he has said and way he has acted in the past.

I have asked him numerous times before both verbally and in writing to please look at them like they’re the first boobs you’ve ever seen. Please stare at them with your eyes and touch them with your hands WHILE looking at them, upon exposing them. Does he do these things- HAS HE EVER done one of these things? NO.

I’m getting upset in bed because every passing SECOND that he is not LOOKING at my breasts is making me more and more upset, disappointed, and feeling rejected.

Finally I start crying and roll away. I say “I’m getting upset.” “stop.” “I’m having a hard time.”
Clearly, I WAS aroused earlier, and WAS into it, but now I am not. I still want to have sex, because I want to give that to him, and I want to feel good about MYSELF to provide him a sexual outlet. But here I am, crying.

Does he ask what’s wrong? No.

I accept this, because he is instead being awesomely playful with my breasts. Talking about checking my ribs- whoops- side boob, boob edge, how about a backrub, oh, whoops, there’s your boob. It was cute. Playfully sexy cute. I stop crying and start smiling. It is a CHOICE to let go of my sadness, or at least to put it away in the name of sex.

Sex continues. It is good. Different, but GOOD. Kind of more … urgent sort of. Very good.
Less love/connection, more raw desire after some teasing playfulness. Liked it a lot.

We’re lying together naked for a long time afterwards. At least 20 min. Finally I ask him, “don’t you want to know why I was crying?”
“Why I was crying- during sex?” (Hello?)
“I assumed it was because of how I wasn’t paying attention to your breasts.”
“That’s right. I’ve asked you numerous times to look at them, to act like you love them- why is that so hard?”
“It isn’t. I’m sorry.”
This makes me angrier, so I get more upset and start crying again, going into my “even if they’re not fucking perfect, they’re a part of ME, and if you love ME and desire ME, my breasts are part of the package- appreciate them.” And, “You don’t get to pick only some parts of me that you like, I deserve to be paid attention to all of me.” And “I have asked you specifically- what is so god damn hard about touching & simultaneously looking at my breasts when they come out?”
– “Nothing” “I don’t know” “I’m sorry” —- jesus. Infuriating. I am so annoyed. Apologizing and saying he’s sorry and whateverblahblah does nothing. Only makes it worse.

A few minutes pass and he then tries to go ahead and acknowledge my breasts. I open up my arms and make them accessible. He is caressing them. Looking at them. It is nice. I wish that he would verbally add to the touching, I wish he would say things like, “they fit so good in my hand” or “they’re so soft” or squish them together and play with them- just ENJOY them more. But alas, I am thankful that he is caressing them and looking in the general direction of my chest. Progress. Until- he says, as he is caressing my boobs “That phone thing has a remote. And you can charge it while you’re using it in the car.”
Excuse me, what?
“Um, great. I wish you’d comment on my breasts instead of talking about the iphone.”
“Oh. I love how your skin is so soft.”
Gee. Thanks.

3 Sundays ago we shared a beautiful snuggle time in bed together after sex. It was AWESOME. This time, he told me to go ahead and rest, he’d get me up before it was scout time.
I’m not sure what exactly he went and did in that time, but I wish it was staying with me.

I think he was folding laundry.

I don’t go to sleep. I lie there feeling confused. Like eventually when he does overcome his intimacy anorexia, when he does continue to stay off porn and his desire for me grows even more and more, that will be great, but for the love of god, how can we overcome this fucking BOOB hurdle. If he didn’t say things that so intentionally (yes, intentionally) hurt me so specifically and directly- it wouldn’t be an issue. Am I a weak piece of shit for letting it bother me so deeply, maybe. I feel weak and idiotic about it. But it is what it is. He went for the jugular. And now he is paying for that. Really I’m paying for it.

So I lie there for a few minutes and go downstairs. He is cooking me some steaks on the grill. This is something I can not (have never learned to) do. So it is yet another man task that historically, has been his “job.” I appreciate this and thank him.
He does not comment further on how beautiful I am after being injected with his semen and appearing all sexified downstairs. He does not greet me particularly warmly.

Upon seeing me after sex, I really would like a warm greeting. One that shows that he values what he just had.
Nope. Back to tasks. Great. Thank you. Talked about a roof rack.

I do not give a mother fuck.

Playing with the iphone radio. Finding a station.

I’m growing irritated by the minute at the TASK oriented lack of warmth and love and intimacy.

We’re standing by the fridge. I ask him how he is feeling. I’m wondering if he feels distracted, hurt about something, or… something.
Something that might explain the distance and seeming lack of “caring.”
He says “fine! How about you?”
Me: mmmm, part happy part sad.
Him: We have to go to scouts in about 20 minutes, I think I’m going to try to fix the bathroom drain real quick.

Really, I’m so disappointed and HURT.

I told him why, basically outlining that while I appreciate the man things and the things he does around here to try to help me out, that those things have NO value- in fact, almost a negative value to me— if not countered with lots of attention to ME as a person.
That it hurts me if he comes in, does a million tasks, no matter how great they really are- if he can’t make ME his priority.

I am so hurt.
I opened up to him so much today.
SO much.
And this is what I get.

He is making progress.
I am trying to breathe through it.
To appreciate the time at breakfast, the kindness and warmth and love I felt then.
But it isn’t enough. The neglecting of feelings far outweighs the goodness of breakfast.
Really hurts my heart.

It makes me feel some trepidation and regret over allowing him to go on our trip next week. I would clearly rather be alone rather than be with him but not treated well.
And for the love of god- I know it is great that he cooked me steak, folded my laundry, did my dishes, changed my brake pads, changed my oil, got me a phone radio, was conversational and sweet over breakfast…. but guess what. ALL.THAT.STUFF.DOESN’T.MATTER if he can’t open up his heart to me.

All of it. IT is all GREAT on the surface. What woman wouldn’t be happy with a man doing those things? The more he “does” the more withdrawn he is, in all the ways that really matter though.