Another Lonely Christmas?

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, 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.

A distressed woman with her hands covering her face, dressed in a black tank top, in a muted grayscale background, while a blurred figure in the background also dressed in black, with a hint of red, suggests emotional turmoil.

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. Despite 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 lie 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 before we share a touch. And, when it does, it ends far too soon. My soul has all but evaporated.

A close-up black and white image of two people lying together on a bed, with one person wearing a loose shirt and the other in jeans. Their bodies are intertwined, suggesting intimacy.

I just finished reading this insightful book. I heard about it on this podcast. It’s about an extremely sexless marriage… and it’s just like mine. Damn! It could be about us!

It’s pitiful. If I’d read it five years ago, it wouldn’t have made sense, but now it does. 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.

Angelwanderer

SEETHINGS promises a gripping psychological thriller that blends murder, passion, and secrets of a sexless marriage. Forman’s vivid prose draws readers into a world where lightning illuminates the skies and hidden truths. As the storm clouds gather, Mitchell’s journey promises to unravel more than just the mystery of the murders.

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