Things have been less than stellar in the sex department around here, so I thought I might as well bitch about it here. But first, I am left to ponder how bitch came to be a pejorative term.
We all know—I suppose—, that “bitch” is a reference to female animals of some species, notably canines. First, this noun is ripe with connotation and used in the negative to describe a female who is not very nice: edgy, aggressive, Type “A”. From this we get the infinitive verb form “to bitch,” which is negative, too, but this can be extended to males, as I am using it now, as in: “I am going to bitch about my sex life.
I think the depreciatory term is a symptom of a patriarchal society. As I have mentioned before, this patriarchal perspective is responsible for the deprecation of many terms from a female context.
So, now on to the bitching: My wife has been depressed of late—a general malaise. Whilst it is generally not seen in a positive light in most so-called modern societies, it is part of balance. Life is about balance. You can have all doing fine and doing great without the down side. Well, she is on the down side. She gets like this, and when she does it affects our sex life.
In order to accommodate me—as I wrote about recently—, she has agreed to “take care of me” at least twice a week irrespective of how she feels. This becomes a split, then, between the middle of the week and the weekend. The trouble is there are other things that affect our ability to connect. We have a child who has needs. Last nights, she planned to take care of me, but it didn’t work out as we expected, which is to say I got nothing.
It went down like this:
She: “I know you are expecting sex tonight. I am not interested in the least, but I know you want it, so I’ll just give you head. Let’s get something for [ ] to do.”
I left and got him occupied, but it wasn’t meant to be. I locked the door behind me, took off my pants, and lay down on the bed. I could hear some ruckus through the door as she wrapped her lips around my cock. This must have lasted about ten seconds before we could hear an escalation and footsteps. I got dressed again, and we tried to console our child. Nothing doing! He wanted family time not private time. Instead of a blowjob, I got to watch some episodes of the Simpsons on DVD—not much of a consolation, methinks.
So this morning, I am cranky. Unfortunately, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I have to work a distance from home at a client’s office. This makes for a late return—and a late night. She doesn’t like late-night sex, so it is unlikely I will get any until tomorrow. (bitch, whine, sob). And so it goes…