Falling in love everyday
Note: this post was originally published on /r/DeadBedrooms
Today, I realized I'm falling in love a lot. It might be a waitress, a barista, or someone I see walking by. These women aren't necessarily provocatively dressed, they don't exude sexual energy or some other magical thing.
They just seem nice.
And as I sat here in a coffee shop trying not to follow the nice-seeming barista around the store with my eyes as she went about her duties, it occurred to me just how pathetic this is. I feel like that socially-awkward, hopeless guy that we all knew in high school—the one that you just knew would never get a date, because he'd never have the courage to ask for one.
Only for me it isn't a lack of courage. It's that I'm married to someone whom I love dearly, but from whom I no longer receive any affection.
She'd kill me if she saw me looking at other women. She'd be devastated if she knew how often I find my heart beating a little faster when someone who happens to be female shows me the least big of basic human kindness. A smile, a funny remark. A little cheerful banter.
Why does all of this affect me this way? Because I haven't felt it from or for my wife in... much longer than I care to admit.
Sure—we still exchange "I love yous" every day. I do everything I can to make her life easier. I help around the house. I offer to do school drop-offs and pick-ups. I help with homework. I also work endless hours in the business we've built together and carry far more of the weight than I should, or that's even close to sustainable. For her, we're better off financially than we've been in years. But I'm the one handling all the stress of the money and daily juggling all the pressures to make sure she doesn't have to handle the difficult stuff.
And we have sex once or twice a month. I almost never initiate anymore because it feels to her like I'm pressuring her. We've talked. We've had something similar to "the talk." She's going to work on it, she really is. But things have been hard. Transitions in parenting. Transitions in hormones. Being sick. Being busy. Extra stuff on the plate.
It all adds up. But what it adds up to is, "I don't matter." My feelings don't matter. The fact that I feel unloved doesn't matter. The fact that nothing I've done (including creating more financial stability) makes her want to be affectionate towards me—not to mention have sex with me—tells me that she really is the self-centered person I always told myself she wasn't. I made all the excuses for her. I've listened empathetically as she's told me tales of trauma as a young woman at the hands of guys who were abusive—verbally and emotionally, at least. I've tried to help nurture her and encourage her through body image issues (she's always been beautiful and desirable to me and she has heard this from me for 20 years now), eating disorders, depression, parenting difficulties... you name it.
I've tried desperately to not be selfish. Don't be "that guy." You know—the one that only cares about himself. The one that treats women like shit. The one that doesn't respect the effort and hardships that come with being a woman in today's society, being a Mom, being uniquely female. I respect all of that. I've always treated her right.
Until lately. Oh sure, I still treat her right. But inside I'm dying. I'm looking for love. I'm looking for affection, for attention. I crave basic human contact. Hugs (which I get from her, but not often), kisses, affection, making out. What would it be like to be kissed passionately?
And that's what I wonder when I meet a nice female. Do they know that inside I'm dying? That I want to be with them? Not to use them lustfully or just get off over their physical attributes. But to feel connected. To kiss. To love.
We've got a list of marriage counselors. With no insurance, some of these prices seem staggering. Is it worth it for me to go to sessions with a therapist and pay all the money when I feel like I've lost hope that any of this will ever change?
Should I just accept that we have a business relationship? A domestic arrangement? At least until we're empty nesters and I don't feel the need to keep a stable household like a good father? But by then will I have any desirability left at all for any woman I meet? Old and used up? My best years wasted on someone who just didn't have it in her—not maliciously, but just as a deficiency—to love me, desire me, make me feel loved?
Do the people sitting here in this coffee shop notice me discreetly wiping a tear from my eye? Do I look like I'm dying inside? I hope not. My facade is all I have left.
