We’re a married couple but live without intimacy. In our thirties, our family and friends think we’ve chosen not to have children, but that’s far from the truth. It’s too cold and lonely a place for them. Last Christmas came and went without so much as a kiss, and I’m expecting the same to happen this Christmas. I nurtured the holiday season as good as I could, with optimistic energy but, like the year before it, 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 but, 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 but being told everything is fine. It’s a tormenting, torturous threat. In spite of our long history not having sex, a part of me still wishes for it. It kills me. What’s going to happen? Will this year finish the same way as 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. My heart keeps breaking. I want to know what went wrong to deserve this sexless marriage. Did I say or do something wrong? I’d heard about married couples who went through inexplicable dry spells, but I thought that was a myth or fodder for comedians to use on stage.
Single people have a good reason to be alone. Married couples have no excuse. They can have sex anytime and anywhere. 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? What 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 can pass by before one comes to touch me again. And, when it does, it pulls back far too soon.
It’s pitiful. My soul has all but evaporated.
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?