Divorce, Single Parenting, Dating, Sex, & Self-Recovery

Posts tagged “sex starved

Incredible Orgasms Didn’t Save My Marriage

incredible orgasms didn't save my marriage

Maybe the fact that I bought this book for my ex-y while we were still married was a sign. And we never got to it. She saw a book on the side of the bed that I was reading, called Saving Your Sex-Starved Marriage. Um, I didn’t really mean for her to see it. And when she did it started a big fight. (That was a sign as well.)

You see, I’ve always been a big fan of the female orgasm. Don’t think I don’t like my own as well, but something about that experience of making a woman kinda explode with pleasure… Well, that’s my definition of high. (Maybe I’m a lesbian.)

Okay so sex with the ex-y devolved into something like this: 1. I give her an amazing oral orgasm; 2. I can have sex with her if I want to after that.

There’s no myth or mystery about the fact that most women don’t have orgasms vaginally. That’s okay with me. If I had a penis that could perform even half as well or long as my  fingers and tongue can… Well, you get the idea.

Okay, so I’m pretty hyped on the orgasm thing, her orgasm. And when I started having desire/erection problems with my current, the “girlfriend,” I was a little concerned that I was simply growing older. What I learned was, it wasn’t my desire or my penis. It was my animal attraction to the “girlfriend.”

I already know I will regret it even before I do it. She will be sad. I will be lonely. We will move on.

There’s a great song on the new Wilco album, “I should’ve been in love.” It’s how I feel. This woman is most of my needs and desires in spades. Touch: bang. Emotional intelligence: yep. Desire and sex drive: um, above mine, and that’s a first.

And yet, I’ve just turned my OK Cupid profile back on. I’m not just looking for something or someone who’s perfect. But when you don’t have that pop, that chemical jolt, well, without that, I feel like something is missing.

My sister rightly points out, “You’re sexual chemistry thing hasn’t worked out so well, has it?” But I beg to differ. (Except in the case of wife #1 the insane Basque woman, who was hotter than a firecracker and loopier than one exploding.) The allure was immediate when I ran into the ex-y that first time. I reach out a hand to shake, she reached out her arms to hug. I was smitten in those few first seconds. I never recovered.

What is it about “girlfriend” that doesn’t pop? I really am curious about that. At the moment, I’m still IN with her (Meaning, I’m not dating anyone else, and we’re spending all of my free time together – in my mind I’m trying to give it a chance to grow.) but I’m feeling the pull, even at the risk of being alone, of going back out on to the market. Saying, “I’m not that into you.”

It will be a painful moment. And I already know I will regret it even before I do it. She will be sad. I will be lonely. We will move on. We will remain friends. (Maybe.) I’m even a little pre-sad now just admitting and writing this.

But this one time, this next time, as I have a clearer bead on what I want and what I don’t want, I’m also committed to not settling for “almost.”


The Off Parent

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Folding Her Clothes and Folding My Desire

the buddha in me killed the marriageI loved folding her clothes in the laundry. There was something cool about the jeans that were on such a different scale than mine. I could only imagine her beautiful legs and feet and toes as I origami-ed them into a warm fortune cookie.

The first time I remember looking into her eyes during love making and finding her bored was a year or so after my vasectomy. I was astonished. It was like looking back into my high school or college years and seeing the ho hum partner in a ho hum state of repose. I was flattened. I stopped. I didn’t want to continue in that relationship.

“Where’d you go? I wanted to ask. But I didn’t. And thus began my own folding. The more I desired her, and the more she desired less, the more I folded inward, and sublimated my physical desire for her with mental desires, masterbation, and fantasy.

I learned, I think I learned, I am learning, that it was a fatal flaw of my own, to cloak my own disappointment and unmet desire in a Buddhist repose. Yeah, I was above it all. Above the fray of the mundane arguments, above the loss of all sexual openings from the woman I was still madly and passionately in love with. I learned to go into my head. To believe that this was okay, this situation was temporary, things would eventually get better if I meditated, masterbated, and remained consistant in my love and presence.

I was wrong. I, in some ways, let her off the hook. When she was bored, and she had already had her orgasm, I should’ve asked. I probed a little, but was content to “wait” and “see” and be the master of my own desires. FUCK. What I was doing was removing the PASSION from myself as well.

I’m a bit stuck in that mode at this very moment. I talk about sex not being the goal. And while I believe that’s true, I also believe I deserve a willing and excitable sex partner. I am willing to be honest and open with my feelings, and in order to not lose sight of what those are again, I have to be willing to express my needs and also my disappointments.

So my wife was bored. My drive for my own passion, in that moment, evaporated in a flash. We’d had the “I guess I’m not going to orgasm” moments. And we’d laughed and talked through many awkward requests and challenges.

And she was B O R E D.

What I won’t settle for next is complacence. My hand is a happy host, but my heart has bigger needs. I won’t let those go unspoken ever again.

Honestly, I don’t think that moment, or my confrontation of the situation would’ve changed our trajectory. But the gradual acceptance and detachment from that loss that became more and more pronounced, that is what killed my marriage. She happened to check out a lot earlier than I did. But in some ways, I let her go, thinking that I would pick up the connection when things settled down a bit, when there was a little more money in the bank, when the kids were both in school.

NOW is it. I won’t become the fat buddha again. The belly that I work off is the isolation that I had agreed to. Do I have to be perfectly fit to find another relationship. No. But I do need to love and understand my own body, so that I can tune into the desires I have. And I have to express them so that I can learn and explore the fit with any relationship I attempt in the future.

The bored girl sophomore year in college was no big deal. Neither of us knew what to expect. My bored wife should’ve been real cause for alarm and awakening. Instead I slept and stayed up late cuddling with the internet. Computers and videos make terrible lovers.


The Off Parent