How can I tell you of my split consciousness or of my fractured will?
You would not be able to look at me the same, for it would pierce the very heart of you. The tender heart that drew me in, that I promised to cherish and protect.
I am the same yet different. There are parts of me that are growing, others that are dead.
As much as I love you, I love thinking of of others. Their soft lips, their naked breasts, the curve of their asses, the imagined scent that emanates from between their legs.
I love you and my soul thrills like a bird heralding Spring, when I see you pick up our youngest and dry her tears.
But there is a part of me that wants to leave you there-frozen, time still surrounding you-and go fuck others.
I might want a pair or a trio. I may prefer to line them up and go from one wet eager mouth to the next, until the final one gets filled with my hot sticky seed. Or it may please me to slip away and sped a weekend fucking a sex machine in all her holes, over and over, until the need is quieted and spent.
It has nothing to do or for you. It is me, my libido, my curiosity.
You however, do not dampen the flames when you toss me crumbs of attention.
The lie I will not tell is that you are the same. You are different.
The children, the house the dogs, the phone, your sister, my Mom, the bake sale, the garden, the old friendly widow across the street, your latest project. They are crowding out the space in your mind that should belong to only me.
You are not able to see it, you snap at me when I mention that I feel left out at times. But you promised me that you would never run out of time for me.
Remember?
Even when you let me fuck you-yes, you let me at times, for your mind is already dropping kids off at school the next day- I feel that I am an intruder. A distraction from the more important things that you do everyday.
Should I apologize for feeling bitter over it? Do you expect me to become neutered and asexual, due to the rhythm of our grown-up lives?
I am your husband. I do not want to beg you for your loving touch, your soft words.
You have changed. You have.
I want you to change back.
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You speak of change as if it is unilateral, not bilateral. As if it is only my issue.
You get impatient with me, with how I do not have the same amount of time to give to you. You are right–I don’t. But is that your only reason for getting bent out of shape?
Funny that you think I can’t see how you get distracted when the brunette neighbor from next door runs by on her daily afternoon trail past our house. I do not fault you for looking. But don’t blame me for your dick getting hard or the fact that I am not childless as she is.
Of course she has plenty of energy to screw her husband, as much as he likes and hang off his every word when he speaks. She is not juggling kids, this house, your Mom, work and all those things that make up our life. Or, as I see it should be called, my life.
You and I are living in these parallel spaces. You get that dejected look in your eye to my refusal, when you want a quickie while the spaghetti is cooking and the kids are screaming with glee in the backyard.
Yes, when we had one child, I could hike up my skirt and push my ass against yours for all of the hot 5 minutes you needed. I love you, so when you need me, I want to give, to satisfy.
When we had two children, I did have more energy and could also spend the time you needed, after they were put to bed.
Our lives are not the same, we have more of everything. We had another baby, I went back to work, your Mom needed support after your Dad passed. This new house, while beautiful, requires more time to clean.
And yes, I need a few minutes, not just a hurried bath or shower.
I do not make excuses, I only expect you to understand that sometimes, I have nothing more to give. I just want to sleep.
I do not always want your dick poking into me. I just want you to hold me. Cliche, but true. I love being in your arms just as much as when we shared our first kiss.
Hold me tight and keep me warm, as I grab just enough sleep to get me through the next day.
Were are here in the present, not in the past. So why are you acting like we are still those people, those single kids?
I have not stopped loving you one bit. You mean more to me than ever before. Am I suppose to neglect parts of our life, because you need more attention? What more do you want me to give?
The porn websites, the times you jack off in the shower, your discreet admiration of other women…I can deal with it; we don’t need to speak of it.
But your silent persistence that I have changed and that I neglect you…you are wrong.
That is what is in the bed with us at night-a cold shadow called Resentment. I can only lie there, when you come to me, already blaming me.
I have freely given you my love, my heart, my time. Bore our babies and see my changed body everyday in the mirror. Did all I could to please you, support you, be a partner.
Do you think I don’t care? Honestly, you know better.
You are not dealing with the changes within yourself as easily as you should.
I also want you to change back. Go back to the man who wears his ring around his finger, as well as his heart and mind.
Come back to us.
Come back.
