Writing is about telling the truth. or should I say- Good writing is about telling the truth. Since, I do not have a friend I can be candid with – I impose my truths here- in the blog space. This empty void where all is exposed and yet,- disconnectedness still occurs. Telling the truth is the brave choice. One very few take. I include myself in this statement. The liar is a coward, bully, a selfish prick who refuses to change. The liar is also the weak conformist who challenges everyone, except themselves, in terms of ethics, values, justice, and the rights of men. I am this person on my bad days. And probably on my good days- self-delusion and all that.
Here is my point:
I say, “I love You.” But do I really mean it? Do I? I am not a I Corinthians purest… or is it II Corinthians? I am so Aware of my selfish nature, literally, it feels like a tangible garment I dress in every morning and sleep in every night.
It is 11:20pm, Fat Tuesday. Babies are asleep, and hubs is in bed, most likely fuming or depressed that he married such a bogus bride. HaHa – that word “bride”… not one I would use to describe myself. Bride is woman needing man, giddy with sexual excitement, and clear eyed about her future. I may be romanticizing this a little, but in the perfect world this is what the word “bride” conjures up in my mind.
Get to the point:
We’ve been married five years in May. And The number one– most top rated reason we fight/argue/have a silent war between us is this crazy concept, aka. sex. We do not fight about about money, children, family, work hours, or hobbies. It is always sex. And you guessed it- he wants it and I don’t. Plain and simple. Okay, so not that plain and simple. Marriages are never black and white. Never a “he did this, she did that.” It is always Gray. And- I do want it- just not on his time table.
So- hubs is in bed. Mad at me, disappointed at me, or perhaps asleep and none of the above. What I do know is we are back to square one. When he is requesting me to be with him and I am in a total different mindset, I feel my selfishness overwhelm me. Thus, the silent war begins again. This never ending cycle of disconnectedness for days- then a connection (sex) occurs and we are close again. Two people against the world. This stage last maybe a day or two, and then… I mess it up- by not being in the mood.
How can two people live in the same house, have children together and NOT get each other At All. He is thinking sex, and I am thinking.. .sleep- coma-induced sleep.
If I ask him to go to the store for a bottle of wine, ( not a rare request) this does not mean,”guaranteed sex tonight buddy,” and yet- I wonder if he believes this notion. Where did this notion that wine= sex come from? or “Get a woman drunk or a glass or two in her and she will have sex.” Where did this retarded notion come from? I’ll be honest- wine is a two-faced bitch. A schizophrenic not to be trusted. Sometimes, one glass = massive headache, and other times it’s the perfect compliment to a long day of playing the toddler-100 question game, and listening to the awful disney music for hours as your toddler dances around the house in her tutu (very cute) and infant son screams for his 9th, 10th and 11th meal of the day.
Btw- breastfeeding is awesome for baby, but KILLS sex-drive. KILLS it Dead!
So, hubs comes home from day at job, and I come come home from work. He goes into his office to study his craft, answer emails… basically continue to work- until he hears the crazy come out in my voice. Because- I am in the kitchen/living room trying to multi-task with a migraine. While E requests music, minie mouse, can she wear here “green dress,” can she have some “dora snacks…”Supper is needed to be made, baby needs to be feed, toddler needs mega- amounts of attention. Guilt and frustration come for a visit. My feet hurt. There is a list of “must dos” piling up for me to do once babies are in bed. House is chaos. I do not thrive in this environment. My husband does.
After chaos declares a cease-fire: babies are in bed- lights dimmed; I feel myself torn between an early bedtime, a workout that will help me get that “sexy look,” (eyes are rolling) or prep work needing to be done for tomorrow’s work day- Hubs is on the other end of the spectrum. He is waiting for me.
I love him. I truly do. But why are we not on the same page? Why does he have gazillion amounts of energy, and I am barely able to make a complete sentence. He appears to be a thriving individual, (apart from his horrid wife), and I look like a cast member of the Walking Dead?
Can I buy will-power at Amazon? The kind that is “as needed” in its prescribed directions and to be taken 1-2 hours before hubs gives you “the look,” and the loving response is to be, “Yes, Please.”
I’d pay serious money for this.
Ps. Above is a darling picture of my Mav Man Max- he loves to eat, and smile at his crazy mommy.