We’re a married couple in our thirties but we don’t have children. We’re not infertile so that means our family and friends believe we’ve chosen not to have kids. It’s far from the truth. Sex just doesn’t happen. I fear it’s going to be another lonely Christmas.
Last holiday season came and went without romance and I’m expecting the same to happen this Christmas. I nurtured the season with optimism but, like the year before this one, it was all for nothing. New Year’s Day was just as lonely — and so were all the days that followed it. Sex, if it’s to happen before this year is out, will be nothing short of a miracle.
My expectations are low. Unfortunately, I live with a tiny piece of hope inside me. It’s a horrible thing. Hope is like having a knife pointed at my chest and being told everything will be fine. It’s a tormenting, torturous time. In spite of our long history of not having sex, a part of me still wishes for it. It kills me. What’s going to happen this year? Will this one finish the same way as the last? Will that knife be plunged deep into my heart again?
That’s why I’m dreading these upcoming holidays.
Birthdays, holidays, trips away, weekends — no time is a good time for sex. My heart keeps breaking. I want to know what went wrong to deserve this sexless marriage. Did I say or do something to offend? I’d heard about married couples who went through dry spells, but I thought that was a myth or a joke. Single people have a good reason to be alone. Married couples have no excuse. They can have sex anytime. At least, that’s what I thought they could do. But we don’t, not ever.
Am I wrong to want? Do I expect too much?
How can we lay in the same bed and not want something more than just sleep? Are we supposed to be only good friends?
It wasn’t always like this.
We used to have sex almost all the time. We couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves. That doesn’t happen now. A whole year passes by before we share touches. And, when it does, it ends far too soon. My soul has all but evaporated.
It’s pitiful. If I’d read it five years ago, it wouldn’t have made sense, but not now. I totally get it.
Just how long is too long before I give up, scream or go mad? I don’t want to be alone for another Christmas day.