On February 1, my wife was browsing through my Internet browser history, and she came upon this blog. By the time I arrived home, she had read many of the entries, called her parents, and had thoughts of divorce. She was livid and devastated. Most of all, she wanted to know why.
I told her I needed to have some social sexual outlet. The time I had alone not spent together was spent here. She equated it to cheating and tried to steer the conversation down that path. I disagreed. We talked for hours. I explained to her that having sex once a week didn’t cut it, twice a week was better but not great, but that I could settle for two to three times a week. She thought this was too much to expect. We were at an impasse. I had brought this up before time and again, but she didn’t think I was serious.
In bed, we continued to talk—pillow talk. We had some make up sex, and we talked some more. She said she was over it, but then she started with the “how could you?” line of questioning. After some more talk, that was resolved, and we had some more sex. To have sex twice a night on a regular basis? I am not looking for that. I wouldn’t want that.
The next night, we had sex again. This time it was reciprocal oral sex. It felt so wonderful to release in her mouth again, and she was back to swallowing. I needed that. We talked some more—when our mouths weren’t busy—, but we didn’t have sex again until Monday night. I ate her, and then I fucked her mouth. We don’t do that too often, so it was a nice change. Everything seemed to be going better.
Tuesday night was hectic. I didn’t even care about having sex. But we talked. We talked about sex. We talked about meeting for lunch. I live less than 15 minutes from home. She said we should meet at a restaurant and have sex in the parking lot after lunch. It sounded good to me, but I don’t know if she will ever follow through.
She called me at work on Wednesday. She had been talking with a female friend of hers in Los Angeles, telling her the sordid details. Here’s the rub. She related that she told this woman that she had newfound respect for me because I didn’t just put up with her ignoring me, that I took some action—even if the action was just writing this blog. What a change in direction—from having lost respect to gaining respect. It’s no wonder men and women can’t understand each other.
We do talk. We do listen, but we wonder if we actually hear.
Anyway, I have been piecing this post together since then. I am not sure if she will return to this blog, but I have lost my anonymity in a way. I am not sure what else of if I will post, but I guess that all depends on how everything else goes. Time will tell.
We have had sex a half-dozen times so far this month, which is a step up, thought not great. We had less-than-stellar sex on V-day because of the rest of life that sometimes gets in the way. What can I say? I am still holding in there.