Beginnings

I love my husband.  Most of the time.  I know he loves me.  Most of the time, in his way. We get along well, we're well-matched; everyone says so.

So why do I feel so utterly alone most of the time? Ok, true, he has a job that takes him out of town often and for long stretches of time - I get that.  Even when he's in town, he's busy.  His job is all-consuming for him, and I have always played second fiddle to it.

But that's not even the big problem.  

He hasn't touched me in months.  Beyond a dry peck, and this really irritating poke on the hip as he passes me in the house, I got nuthin'.

I am a woman in her sexual prime, Gentle Readers.  A dry peck and an irritating poke aint gonna cut it. 

I've broached the subject, several times, and have got exactly nowhere. Here's the best part - when he does make the effort, it's bad.  As in Not Good.  As in, "Beige....we should paint the ceiling beige." bad.  I don't remember him being that bad from our early days.  My latest theory is that it's along the lines of the stereotypical male, "If I do this really badly, she won't make me do it again."  Sheer speculation on my part, but recent evidence bears the theory out.

Left to my own devices, I did what any red-blooded and borderline desperate woman would do.  I stepped out.

It started tentatively enough - flirting with men at nightclubs mostly.  And then - Vancouver happened.

A life-long friend was living there and I went for a visit.  She had signed up on an internet dating website in the wake of a disastrous relationship and was *ahem* getting more tail than than she had ever thought possible.  Since my aim wasn't to escape my marriage proper, just the loveless part of it, this sounded ideal.  When I went home at the end of my trip I signed up.

I was not in any way prepared for the kind of response that was coming.  I had no idea that the proportion of men to women on these websites was something like 100 to 1, and that a lot of the women weren't looking for what I was.  They were out for Mr. Right, I was out for Mr. Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am.  Within five days I had dozens of messages to sift through; and as I went through those, more rolled in.  I was stunned.

I met a few, learning some hard lessons along the way (exactly how old is that picture Sparky?), even had a little mini-stable.  There were three men I saw sporadically, one more than the others, but none of them were what I was really looking for.  I closed my profile and broke off contact with all of them abruptly.  I suspect to this day that I hurt my main man, Danny, but I never saw or spoke to him again to find out.

So, what, you ask, was I looking for?  A connection.  A spark. Someone who simply had to have me - body and soul.

Crazy talk.

I went back to trying to make things work, physically, with my husband.  I wish I could say our sex life blossomed with this new effort, but I can't.  Instead I was met with ever more creative ways to avoid physical contact.  He'd go to bed ridiculously early, or much later; but never at the same time.  He'd pretend to be asleep when I knew he wasn't.  He'd pick a fight. He'd slyly make his move when Mother Nature was in town.  Whatever it took.  I tried for two years - everything I could think of - naughty outfits, suggestive notes, outright propositions, role playing, you name it, I didn't get it.  Ms Scarlett struck out big time, kids.

What's a girl to do?

Stay tuned...