unlabelled

i don’t recall how long it’s been since i first laid eyes on him, though i could easily search back and discover the exact date but i’d been with him almost a year when i met his 4 year old son, who will be 12 this December. i think about the changes between us and how things have shifted. it’s impossible to think that the passion between us is as powerful as it ever was, after so many years. he triggers a response in me that goes beyond reasonable.

there is no talk of being together beyond what we have. i will not add stress or pressure into his life and to be honest, he has no room for me in the level of contact and communication he is focused on with the main woman in his life, which is his adult daughter who has what tantamounts to a terminal, though long declining diagnosis of a rare cancer which will eventually take her anywhere from 3-10 years. His desire to reconnect with her, to immerse himself into her life and to make up for all the years they were unaware of their relationship, is his priority.

would i like more? yes. but not if it means i don’t see my family on a daily basis. they will be leaving soon enough and when it happens, perhaps i will reconsider my position. i don’t know if we could spend extended periods of time together. i’m not sure if we could transition after years of secrecy. or if my body could take what he does to me when we are together. he is fierce with me. and brutally tender. what i am to him, is irrelevant.  it doesn’t hurt or bother me to not know. i live in the moment with him. the flammable, the intense, the erotic moment.

i need nothing else but the weight of his body and the grasp of his hands as he manipulates me to do the bidding of providing the responses he demands i give him. his pleasure is in bringing me to mine. he will not let me lead or take control in any manner. and he protects me. he refuses to let me hide myself from him and he watches for the moment my eyes say words i won’t and he will not let me turn away. the vulnerability i feel at times is overwhelming and so he crushes me to him and brings be back if i start to panic and become lost.

i am grateful for this man. in every way there is to feel attuned to another, he is the hard surface i am struck against, and he relishes in my reverberations and holds me through them, feeding on them. as much as he claims i am sexy, he is my incubus. my unbelievably beautiful, powerful and unlabelled sensual partner.

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alone in plain sight

what stops you from saying something to me?  i notice myself being noticed all the time. i get odd comments and engagement about how i created a sensation, yet somehow, i am off limits. who is she. look at her dance. is she with anyone. is she coming back.  i’ve had construction crews radio down the line so people came forward as i walked along the route so they could look at me, leaving a murmur of hey and hi and nice days in my wake. there were times things like that bothered me, times, i never noticed it and now i wonder why it happens on the periphery of my life and yet no one, or exceptionally rarely, approaches me.

i do not believe it is because the combination of my looks and attitude are that different from others that it makes me seem unattainable or unapproachable. yet my reality is while i seem to be lusted after and stared at, i am rarely engaged with, even if i take the initiative and address someone who seems to be obviously interested. in many ways it makes me feel like i am a performer, that people feel more comfortable sitting back and watching or listening to, rather than exchanging  any communication with. it can be and is exceptionally lonely. i tend to feel it more because i am alone. if i had a relationship, then while it would still happen, it would lose its focus or ability to hurt me by its inherent neglect and division.

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he smells like sex and safety

i know the scent of him, where the slope of his wide neck chords down to the thick muscles that pull together before broadening to form his powerful shoulders. the softness of his full beard hides the firm, square shape of his jawline, but I feel it underneath my hand and against my temple as I bury my face into the angle and turn to place my lips against the pulse. there are times i hide here, unwilling to meet his gaze or see the truths there. other times, i am pulled there by him and it feels like he is encompassing me, enfolding me, as much wanting me inside of him, as he is inside of me.

rather than making me feel an overwhelming need to get away because i can’t breathe, as panic begins its uncontrolled rage and response through my memories, it makes me feel safe and protected. like he is truly shielding me with his body. i’ve never felt that way with any other man. this complicated level of vulnerability and trust. i avoid it as much as i seek it out.

i stay away to prove i can or until i can control the brutal desire i feel for him which is never satiated despite the rigorous and impressive abilities he takes great measure to ensure i receive the full benefit of. he is not selfless in the least. he is the most demanding sensual lover imaginable. his pleasure comes from ensuring all of my body has been touched and taken. he desires my complete surrender and wants to see me losing control to his ministrations. he doesn’t stop. it’s like he can’t. even a gentle kiss becomes lingering so it draws a certain sound from me and his reaction to it, is instant.

i can’t say i’ve had enough or that i’m too sensitive; i can’t push his hand to the side. because when my body responds to him, my words and feeble attempts to ask for a break or slow down are met with either an amused gentle refusal or disbelieving slightly aggressive annoyance which may mean he restrains my hands so i do not interfere with his access and either way he proceeds by increasing his efforts so there is no doubt who is in charge of the sexual encounter and i will be on the receiving end of all the pleasure he can give me, regardless if i wanted it or not. as it turns out, i always want it, even when i thought i didn’t. he knows everything i need better than i do myself.

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alone with memories

impossibly, there is no arousal without his image behind my closed eyes and the desperate futile wish that it was his hands servicing my needs and not my own.

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hurt me just a little more

There are times I feel as if I allow myself the luxury of emotions, I would sink into a despondent crisis of monumental magnitude. Which is why I hold so tightly to the control I require to manage my life, so I can function. Then there are days which occur too closely upon ones which are emotionally tender, ones that are painful, ones that remind me of my loss and solitude. The combination of prior sorrows, recent pain and the moments latest attempts to destroy my soul, leave me feeling exposed and vulnerable. Barely unable to hang onto the tenuous control I need, so I do not break.

It is days like these, that drive me to him. That make me want to push him in defiance so he in turn pushes me. My isolation from myself, my refusal to bend to his control will make him force me to give it to him. He will not lose a power struggle when it comes to the control of my body and he will not stop his manipulation of it until he brings me to muscle failure. If he feels resistance or challenge, if he feels an attempt at my denying access to cut off the intensity of where he is taking me, across his face and in his eyes is a flicker of disbelief/amusement/anger/tender refusal of acceptance, depending on the specifics of the situation. His eyes show how he acknowledges where I am, how he adjusts and what his emotional response was and is going to be.

There are times I can’t bare to look at him. It’s too raw and too revealing of everything I am trying desperately to hide. I don’t want him to see me. Not my soul. There are instants he’ll allow it for a time, or he’ll realize what I’m doing and he won’t. He know’s I’m using my lack of eye contact to keep that last thread of control away from him. he’ll position me so I can’t look away and he’ll kiss me and place his forehead on mine, or hold my jaw and gently wrap his big hand over my throat. When he makes me look at him when I don’t want to, he watches me crumble. He watches me at those times when I am trying to defy him and losing, with such intensity; he see’s the sexual tension build and release  with such intensity it overpowers me, as much as the emotional pressures do.

I can feel the burning of tears begin in my throat before they start to well in my eyes and I’ve tried turning my head. I try and swallow them away and because of the position of his hand, he can feel it and won’t let me do either. There is concern as much as triumph on his face when he sees the tears I hate so much, fall from the corner of my eye and onto his broad hand or powerful forearm before they can disappear into my hair. He’ll press the side of his face against mine, so I can hide my face in his beard and shoulder, underneath his jaw. He’ll kiss the trail of salt at the corner of my eyes, my forehead, my temple. He’ll drop his body weight heavily on mine, pressing firmly using who  he is to help get myself back under control as I tremble and my ragged breathing tries to form back into a normal pattern.

He can feel every nuance of my struggle like it was his and so he knows when I need less from him and he can back off. I don’t have to say anything because he feels everything. He orchestrates it, he watches for it and he adapts and changes to it after he gets it. No one else sees what he does. No one else ever has. I’ve never allowed it. No one else has even come remotely close. There can be no comparison as the difference is so dramatically vast.  He wants the eye contact from me, more than any other position we used to engage in and regardless of the ploys I engage, he comes back to it, more than he ever did.

I miss him. I ache for him. I hurt with his absence. I’m angry with myself for wanting him so badly and for the betrayal of my body and mind as he is the person I can’t walk away from mentally and even when I stay away, every cell of my body aches for him. He is the only one who can bring me back and yet he is not part of my life. So I have to live with it and accept  the limited interaction for what it is and as being enough. But it’s not. My struggle isn’t his. I’m sure he dismisses me once I am out of sight.

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non mom day

it’s not that I am upset or even care, but by early evening, when i finally had time to sit down and check social media and saw all the messages husbands were posting to their wives, thanking them for the gift of their kids on mothers day and acknowledging how much they do for their families, i realized the person who is the father to my children, once again, never bothered to say or even comment anything to me on the day, let alone do it publicly. but then again why would he. you’ve got to value someone to think about them. if i say anything to him to ensure he know’s i know he failed as a husband, he’ll give some sadly pathetic excuse about being busy and i’ll reply with, you took my children to be with your mother this week end ensuring i’d be alone and you had time to say happy mothers day to how many women today, yet you couldn’t be bothered to take 15 seconds out of your day, to  acknowledge the mother of your own children. it’s un-excusable and just another example of how you show me by your lack of actions that you don’t care about me at all and are a failure as a husband and a man.

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where there is a will

his casual message is just that and we both know it. the problem is i surge with lust enhanced by weeks of celibacy broken only by brief and unsatisfying self gratification gained alone using images of him which are burned forever inside my closed lids, along with his softly spoken, husky words, to briefly get over the worst of the longing, when my aching body knows exactly what it is missing and is angry at me for withholding the object of pleasure from pressing where my fingers are and punishes me by escalating the urges and increasing my sensitivity until my deteriorating mood is out of control. there is no amount of exercise, work, distraction to keep it at bay. sleep doesn’t come to me because my body is taunt with building pressures and unmet needs which only ads to the resentful feelings i have about the need to live without touch and being satisfied by the male hands i desperately need to calm and arouse me. sadly, the easiest way to keep me content and happy is to bend me to the will of a man who wants me and physically tame me into submission so my body and mind are calm and at peace as he uses his body to make me remember mine belongs to his.  and that is the reason i keep going back. to him, i may be an on call fuck buddy, but to me, he is my therapy and way to heal through sexual willfulness. there can be no will from me, when he has the power.

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kids observe your marriage

…when the casual observations of your young adult children, about how they have viewed the conflicted marriage between their parents, break your heart a little bit, because you can’t explain the context of what they witnessed as there isn’t enough distance from it and they don’t have enough emotional maturity and experience to understand the decisions you made, yet.

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the lies he tells himself

You texted me a lie. Don’t say you love me when you clearly show me every day that you don’t. You are unable to have a normal sexual relationship with me. This has been an issue for 24 years. You  stopped having sex with me because you are not attracted to me, you don’t love me as a woman, and you checked out a long time ago. You refused to seek help, talk about it or get therapy for your issues and you refused to have a sexual, mental or emotional relationship with the women you claim to “love.” That’s not how love actually works.

Normal, healthy Men who are attracted to a woman, will not refuse sex on a regular basis. You claim over the years you’ve had blood work done to check testosterone levels after I’ve demanded you do so, which you said came back as normal, but you refuse to show me proof. Assuming it’s true and there is no hormone issue with you, a normal man who is attracted to a woman who wants him and wants sex from him, will probably want to have sex at least once a week. You don’t. Clearly it varies and there are contributors to frequency but over a 30 year period of time, there is enough information to provide an average. That means there is a psychological issue with you. Because you are not attracted to me and because I pushed for semi-regular sex from you, your only recourse was to come up with a myriad of ridiculous excuses to avoid sex. I have heard them all when I was still trying. Clearly, that was years ago.
You avoided going to a doctor, or going to marriage counselling, because you know that any test given to you would come out normal. You stopped wanting me. Maybe you found someone else by now or have had various partners over the years. You clearly had issues with my pregnant, nursing and post child body. My reality is proven by years of little to no sex, and is proof that you are not attracted to me as you fiercely refused to have sex with me on a consistent basis. I can’t negotiate your attraction to me because I can not change the fact that I once carried children inside my body. You will never be attracted to me again in a sexual way which brings me satisfaction because  you can’t even force yourself to fake it or put in the weakest of efforts. Your body does not respond. Your brain does not respond. There are no words you can say that can change the past and physical proof of your disinterest.
There is nothing that you can say, that will ever change my mind about how I feel that you have stopped loving me. You stopped. I can’t pinpoint a moment as it was a series of events leading to the realization that you haven’t loved me in a long time. You sit back and do nothing, pretending that nothing is wrong between us even when I tell you what the issues are and what I need you to do to fix them, while knowing I am upset with you and the situation you created. You feel me rock myself to sleep on the far side of a bed, you see me flinch if you accidentally touch me, you see me cry when I see a normal loving exchange between couples or a romantic scene comes on TV and you do nothing.
You walk away from seeing me struggle and you do nothing to make my life easier. You do the barest thing possible to get by. You act like more like a spoiled, petulant and ill mannered child than a life partner. You stand and watch your sons help make dinner, or put groceries away or clean off a counter, or clean the house and you do nothing.  If I ask you to take a plate with the remnants of my meal on it to the kitchen because I am in the middle of working, that’s what you do. Walk it 4 feet from me and put it on the counter over the dishwasher and beside the compost and don’t bother scraping it or putting it away. You leave it for me to deal with because you can’t be kind.
If you cared about me or loved me the way a man loves a woman he has sexual interest in, then the normal reaction would be to try anything to engage me, talk to me, hold me or make me smile and bring me joy as long; just do anything to resolve things as long as it’s something reasonable. Having sex with your spouse is reasonable. Expecting intimacy from them, is reasonable. Going away after never travelling together and sleeping in separate beds is not reasonable. Placing pillows between us  when we had to share a smaller bed so I don’t touch you, is not reasonable. You save the best of who you are for everyone else. You can chat to strangers you sit beside at sporting events but you can’t even make small talk with me. Hours spent in silence sitting beside you makes me resent being in a vehicle with you or when you use me as a plus one for the event you want to go to when you are purposefully late for things I want to go to.
Expecting regular sex is a reasonable for healthy adults in a relationship and yet you made it seem like you were doing me a favour or taking on an unwanted chore. I was with you for 5 years and before I was pregnant, everything was normal between us. Our sex life and compatibility was perfect. You were the person I wanted to have sex with for the rest of my life. I was highly attracted to you. Sex and affection are basic human needs and it’s crazy to think that living in the celibate marriage you have changed this relationship into, is adequate or is wanted. I’ve been extremely vocal about my needs and yet you still refused. You choose to reject me on purpose because you know it hurts me as I’ve told you it does. And you keep doing it. So for me, the last time was the last time. I can’t imagine a time I’d ever allow you inside my body again, knowing how much you hurt me when I am vulnerable.
It is common knowledge that long-term rejection hurts, and I have repeatedly brought this up to you and yet you do nothing to change. My needs don’t matter and never have. For years you punished my desire for sex from you by using me to get yourself off as quickly as possible, to ensure I got no pleasure from it. No foreplay. No after play, No gentle caressing. No intimacy. No connection. No celebrations of anniversaries or birthdays or valentines day.  People who actually love each other are not okay with hurting each other. Even if you had a physical issue preventing penetration, there would still be all the other intimacy and connection options which are possible to maintain a pair bond. But instead you reject me. Every time. For years. On purpose because I tell you it hurts me and so when you do it the next time, it is a willful choice to hurt me. You may have occasionally spent a few seconds or minutes fucking me many years ago, but it’s been 19 years since you made love to me and showed me you had feelings for me.
So, if you really had cared about me, then you would have at least tried to make things work in our sexual relationship and work things out between us. You don’t love me anymore and haven’t in a very long time. So don’t send a text message knowing one of your kids are going to see it as they are helping me with a phone issue or don’t say you love me in a sarcastic sing song childish voice when one of your kids will hear it, as you are doing it for their benefit to try and make yourself seem like you are not the issue or problem and not because you feel it or because you mean it. Those sad displays are just a show for your benefit and nothing else. So stop it. It means nothing. You are only with me because of the lifestyle that staying married gives you. The convenience of sharing space with the family you wanted and I gave you,  even though it meant destroying the marriage because it meant you stopped being attracted to me, is all you are interested in.
You don’t love me and haven’t been attracted to me for years; you have totally and completely mentally checked out of the marriage YEARS ago. We are barely civil roommates mostly because of the resentment I harbour at your hurting me all the time by rejecting me. Unlike you, I can’t pretend that a celibate and hostile marriage is what I signed up for, as it isn’t. This is not what love is. We don’t have anything to work out and I’ve stopped asking as there is nothing worth saving and I would refuse to do any work at this point, as so many years have passed with inaction on your part. You threw away someone who actually loved you, who wanted you so very much for such a long time, who gave you chance after chance to step up and fulfil your role as a husband.
So many other men envied what you had and were angered by your obliviousness to the careless way you treated me. They couldn’t understand how you could not see the comparisons between me and other women and not treasure what you had or at the very least appreciate it, even moderately. You just took me for granted, ignored me and hurt me by rejecting me as a woman.  I allowed it only because I prioritized our children’s stability over my unmet needs. I thanked the other men for their kind words and for seeing what you didn’t. I refused their offers to step in and take care of me in ways you wouldn’t. I said nothing to you because you saw it all anyway, happening out in the open in front of you and didn’t care because you probably could not believe that other men would actually be attracted to me, since you weren’t. It just made them disrespect you as a man and wonder if you were gay because the consensus was that I was very attractive, desirable as well as being a good mother and wife in spite of his refusal to see it. It gave me validation that I wasn’t imagining things. And that I was still a viable woman, wanted by men sexually anyway.
Who you are, is someone I would never choose to be with now. You’re not a nice partner. You have too many sexual, health and psychological problems to work out with me, to ever make us compatible sexual partners again. I’d never trust anything you did after the damage you created from 24 years of rejection. Your  constant and consistent refusal to speak to me or share your life with me, are deal breakers. Your refusal to celebrate lifes celebratory moments with me, are deal breakers. Your refusal to take care of me when I am vulnerable and incapable, is a deal breaker.  Being a husband to me did not end once I got pregnant, yet I’ve been alone ever since, in every way. All I’ve had in our marriage is all the heartache and none of the joy. None of the pleasure and nothing but issues. Your legacy after 31 unhealthy years of not taking care of yourself, is one of underwhelming, premature disappointment and flaccid regrets.
You don’t even get my words anymore. They are here and you’ll never hear them or read them. One day when the kids are ready to leave and I go too, you’ll be surprised when I go at the same time because I am sure you believe that nothing is wrong and there are no issues.
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Absent by choice

I needed to take a break from him. A mental and physical break because only space and distance let’s me regain some of my self awareness and lets me have the perspective I need to make sure I do not allow my emotional context to spill over into the reality of what occurs between us. I can’t risk being vulnerable to him or asking it of him. It’s not going to happen.

Women have a hormonal response with orgasm and the better the sexual partner, the stronger the feelings which can be formed because of the dopamine release in her brain. The man of a pair bonded couple can benefit from this by ensuring his mate is regularly satiated. She will have no desire to look elsewhere as her physical response will be directed towards an emotional one which she is actively going to seek out from him. A man can use a woman’s body, by giving her multiple orgasms, to make her fall in love and stay in love with him. He will get more sex from her, when he gives her more pleasure.

This means when a man has chosen to use a woman as a sexual partner without having an emotional and social connection with them, and you’ve accepted it regardless if it is a week or for years, then the danger is a woman connecting too much with him, becoming too emotionally vested in him, confusing her bodies sexual satiation and normal brain response with a deeper or more meaningful connection. She risks falling in love with someone who views her simply as a tool to reach climax, a replaceable means to an end, someone to alleviate boredom. He doesn’t value her or appreciate the gift of her body. He views sex with her as an activity he schedules in when it is convenient or cancels when a better partner or activity presents itself.

There are a few women who can handle this for the duration of the arrangement, some can manage it for a while because they think they can, then eventually learn they can’t when the reality of it feels different than they anticipated and they can’t make the adjustments. For some it takes longer than others. It takes a great deal of self awareness to negotiate your emotional reaction to a physical and chemical response created by someone who is mentally becoming  what the woman considers a romantic partner instead of the sexual one they began as.

The reality is, there are known psychological effects and impacts with the choice of promiscuity and taking multiple sexual partners, with the differences between men and women being dramatic, which is why women need to understand the risks before entertaining the idea of introducing new or successive partners. It damages women’s ability to form a bonded and truly intimate relationship, the more casual partners they have. Men have a higher threshold, but it is there as well.

The problem is that I love him. As in I truly love him and all his damaged self. It does not require reciprocity nor does it have any conditions. And I know him well enough to know he is incapable of being the kind of partner I would need, even though we are biologically and physically compatible. This means, I have to make sure I keep him at arms length and not spend wasted time thinking about what might have been or wonder if he is thinking about me as much as I do him. He doesn’t. It’s bad enough that my body doesn’t respond to any memory of arousal but ones he’s inflicted upon me and inspired me to.

He needs to stay in the realm of where he wants to remain and what makes sense to my life, which is being the call I make when I can’t focus anymore, when I can’t get outside of my head because my body’s struggle against celibacy and self gratification is a shadow of the reality I know awaits me, once I allow myself to contact him. My body starts responding the moment I make the decision to text him and by the time I arrive, once I see how his eyes look when he sees me, once he touches me, it is indescribable to explain my physical and psychological reaction.

It is a combination of submission and challenge. Of wanting him to hurt me because I can’t take the gentleness of his constant firm pressures and demands. Of him understanding my body’s mood and needs more than I do and taking control over it until he is satisfied that there is nothing of the conflict I arrived with, remaining. He works the manipulation of tension in my body like a fly fisherman would adjust the cast and play of a line. He makes me want to bite for him. To give myself up to him. Knowing it will be my ruin and mean nothing to him because he only wants the play and could care less who or what actually bites on the other end.

I am replaceable for him as an interchangeable afterthought who holds no value which is the exact opposite to how I view him. Which is why I needed some time away from him. To let the space clear in my head so my body could get back into control of my mind and not desperately cry out for his touch, making sleep impossible. I am an addict and he is my drug of choice. I can function and be productive as long as I remember that my usage has to be casual and spaced far enough apart that it doesn’t overtake my life. Because I want it to. I’d cling to it and revel in it. And so I remain apart.

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