So here I am married to a wonderful man for 5 years. We lived with each other for 5 years before that just because we got along so well… but he wanted to get married and I didn’t. After two bad marriages (one to an abusive hardliner Muslim who subborned me entirely and one to an only emotionally abbusive American), I figured marriage did me no favors and was in no mood to try it again. But present hubby was very loving and persistant. I won’t say romantic, that’s not his forte, but he has always been demonstratably loving… like a puppy, like a brother, like a best friend.
Back up a step. Our dating was not sexless. He seemed to have perfectly normal desires there and, as for me, I’m a nymph. So anyway, when I finally agreed to marry him it was with no thought of being celibate for the rest of my life.
Yet he has not made love to me since we married. Ever. I’m going nuts. He says he’s unable… also not interested in finding a solution since he doesn’t think it’s really a problem. But it is. Yet all my efforts to make him pay attention to that only result in his shying away, being hurt, looking away, and then trying to make up for it in countless other ways. He spoils me rotten… does many things for me I do appreciate and many, too, that I’d prefer to do myself. Experience has taught me warriness of being too dependent on spouse and dependency naturally makes me feel helpless, even worthless. Does that make sense?
He also makes some effort to humor the nymph in me with foreplay. Not saying he’s not good at that but it drives me crazy on two fronts at once even though it’s often pleasurable: 1. it never leads to the sex it falsely promises and (2) it’s not mutual – he doesn’t usually want me to do the same for him so I’ve pretty much given up trying. After the orgasm passes it just leaves me feeling hollow, as though there were no real intimacy there.
If anything, I feel no more than eaten. I try to come to grips with that… with the fact of my fantasies with him regard only being food for him in some way, not in any romantic relations. I don’t think that’s a healthy way to feel. I want that feeling to go away. Finally, I actually got up the nerve to try writing it out into story form. Writing is often a way I can exorcise unwholesome thoughts from myself, get them out of my system. That’s real reason I wrote the story, Melting Fat just recently in my other blog. But it didn’t work. I’m still feeling… I don’t know… queasy about it I guess.