My life seems to be slipping, slipping away faster than I can gather it together. I need to find more outlets but I cannot because each outlet I find takes more time and that is the most scarce resource I posses.
My sex life has never been fantastic and to be honest I struggle with the idea that it is my inexperience. At 26 I have only ever had three sexual partners and to that point on two that I really remember. At a young age I found the girl that I found to be perfect, a reflection of everything I wanted in a significant other. She made me so happy and I could be completely candid with her, or could I? looking back I think that I told myself that she was the one and began to shape myself into the person she wanted…. actually the person she needed. I was recovering from a substantial rejection from another girl that I had held in very high regard when I met her. She is now my wife, but did that happen because we are truly compatible or because I manufactured a version of myself that she couldn’t help but feel secure with, to fall in love with. Was I so desperate to find myself in my young adulthood that I simply created what I wanted, did I force this?
More and more my answer seems to be yes. May will be 8 years…. 8 years of my life living completely content with this woman, 8 years looking in the mirror and thinking to myself “Damn you are one lucky asshole.” But maybe those eight years were really just a mirage and I am just now waking up. When I don’t have sex for a long period of time (6-8 weeks) I start having trouble sleeping, I fall asleep and then about an hour later wake up with a ravenous desire to have sex, I look over at my wife, who at this time is usually still on her phone, and think that perhaps if I just try one more time that tonight will be the night. But I learned a long time ago that is not how it works. I have suffered rejection in this scenario more than every other encounter I have experienced combined, and it is devastating every time. The other night was one of these nights, however when I looked over my beautiful wife (that’s another thing that makes it so difficult, she is downright gorgeous though she will flat out deny that) and she was already asleep. I decided to go take care of the issue myself downstairs, and once there on the couch remembered the very real risk of “tug-burn”. I started to look for some sort of lubricant to help with my situation, Looking high and low and coming back empty I decided to check her purse, knowing that she likes to moisturize her hands. When I opened the purse I could not find anything but I did see her journal, she had started seeing a therapist a while ago and I thought that if I just took a peek I would be able to see how well she is coming along. The first couple of entries were pretty normal, about her family and things from her past that she wanted to address and fix. Then I started an entry to her “monster” about how she missed him and how she hated to have lost him, my first thoughts were about how I had failed and she thought she lost me. I kept reading and realization hit me like a ton of bricks, this was not about me, and it was dated only 3 years ago. There were several more entries about this “C” , or “monster” and how she knew they would never work but his rejection hurt her, apparently it still does. I was upset, I realized for the first time that I may not be the only one in her life that she cared for the way I thought we shared. So naturally I kept reading because I believe that deep down I am a masochist, I knew I should have stopped but I couldn’t I am way too curious naturally. That’s when the entries stopped and picked up 6 months later, December of 2015. One of our neighbors, lets call him shitpile, had started to talk to my wife directly over text, a lot. She told me about this and asked how I felt, I told her I didn’t mind as long as it didn’t turn into “we are bored at home” sex. I also told her thank you for telling me, I am the kind of person who would like to know these things, be them for good or bad. The entry goes on to say how he started to come over after his wife left for work and he would take any opportunity he could to sit close to my wife, to be close, to touch. She could tell he wanted her and that made her feel good. Then I started to become a bit more suspicious because he had been in our house when our son was at school. According to her entry she felt the need to tell shitpile and warn him that I was suspsicous because according to her “jealous (me) is fucking unpredictable.” He played it off cool and then asked (via text) if there was any reason that I should be jealous, and she said maybe…… over the next week he sent her good morning texts and came over, in the entry he kissed her, and she kissed him back. They made out a few times and he forced his hand inside of her, they were even so bold as to go out in public together and hold hands. In the journal after the first time that he kissed her she stopped him and told him that they shouldn’t and he said why not. She gave him all the usual reasons, the neighbors might know, you have a wife, who is pregnant with your baby. All valid reasons, all reasons that he shouldn’t…. none regarding me…. nothing about how it could hurt our relationship. (That’s something that I only realize now while writing this.) He said that none of that mattered. She eventually decided that she wanted this to turn into an affair. They had plans to fuck, when the day finally arrived and they met up she could tell that he wasn’t into it, and asked him if he wanted to go through with it. HE TOLD HER NO, he was going to be a father, he didn’t want to hurt his wife. He fucking ended it, fucking SHITPILE. Once I read this entry I knew I wasn’t going to sleep. I needed out of the house and fast. I put on my running clothes and left, I called my best childhood friend and she talked to me for a couple of hours, I was…. I am devastated. How could she do this to me? What had I done so wrong that she needed these other men?
I confronted her about it the next night, I told her that I felt a lot of distance between us and that I wanted to know what was wrong. Do you have anything that you need to tell me I asked, I expected a dramatic breakdown with honestly spewing forth a reckoning of untold proportions. I was met with a stoic calmness, a front of “no” and what do you mean? So I saw that I would have to tell her I knew, but I didn’t want to tell her how I knew. So I said that I couldn’t sleep and decided for a run because I didn’t want to masturbate. I said during my time out of bed I ran into someone and learned some new information. Careful not to say how I got the information. I said that I knew about her and SHITPILE and that I wanted to know, why, what happened. She told me that it was new and exciting. That she had been unhappy and confused with herself for so long that the escape was nice. She said that when he fingered her he had forced it, but she hadn’t stopped it. She told me that she didn’t know who she was and that she was a horrible person, that she could offer me nothing and that she was just holding me down, I would be better off without her…. Maybe she is right about that, maybe not. I know that she does have a lot to offer but I also know that I cant trust her to tell me things….. and that scares me.
My blood pressure is ramped up and my hands ache from typing so fast, I tire of writing now, I will write more later.
What do I do, I have decided to work on our relationship, work on us. Try to help her be happy again…… am I a Fucking idiot? A scared little fuck? or just too in love to give up?
I don’t know.