By Lola Stark
My ex and I had sex a lot. And being the jerk that he was, he let everyone know about it. So, moving from one friend to the next was a dark comedy of errors.
After I finally made “the switch,” Jason, my now-husband, and I didn’t have sex for five months. But it wasn’t only because of the whole friend situation; there was more to it.
Years before I met him, Jason had flown somewhere to visit a university he was considering attending. He met someone, lost his virginity, and created a child — all within one week. The worst part was, he had to wait nine months to find out if it was really his. He was traumatized.
Our first sexual experience was clumsy and filled with fear on his end. I tried to make it fun, made jokes to help the mood. But it didn’t work.
Once we were with each other for a while, our sex turned into something we both enjoyed. It was hot, sweaty, and full of passion.
Things slowed down once we got married, which is normal. Work, family, and life weighs you down and sometimes the last thing you want to do is tangle yourself up with someone under the sheets and force a climax.
When I got pregnant with our daughter, sex stopped completely. I was very sick, and since this was our first (and only) child, we were scared. Would the baby feel my husband’s penis? Would I miscarry? Would it HURT?
All those crazy questions people ask about pregnancy and you think, “Are you kidding me?” Yep, that was us.
After the baby, it was all about sleep and caring for our daughter. Sex wasn’t even a thought. In the beginning, our daughter slept with us. We had a really vicious cat who would constantly go after her, so we wanted to “protect” the baby. We never planned on co-sleeping.
We used to be able to find ways to have sex when she was younger: While she slept in the swing, we would sneak around the corner, far enough that it wasn’t pervy, but close enough that we’d be able to hear her cry. We’d drop her off at my father’s and “go to a movie,” when, in reality, we’d just go home and bone.
Unfortunately, due to distance, we no longer have the luxury of dropping her off. And since she refuses to sleep in her own bed, she’s still with us for the time being.
So now we’ve been in a fully sexless marriage for the last three years. All the little secret spots we had when she was younger don’t work anymore.
She’s a handful, we both work full-time, and we’re tired. But we’ve never loved each other more. We still flirt privately, via text or Facebook. We sneak in kisses here and there.
And even though we don’t experience the true intimacy that sexual intercourse provides, we still enjoy each other’s company. And dare I say, even more than we used to. Because we’re both so electrified with unfulfilled heat, our spark is always flaming.
Don’t get me wrong, my husband is still full of testosterone which means even though he KNOWS our sex situation is almost impossible, he still asks for it ... a lot.
When our daughter plays, oblivious to both of us, he’ll grab my ass and tell me how he longs to be inside me. That only gets me going so I usually lock myself in our bedroom and make my way to the incognito tab on my computer for some wholesome porn to aid my masturbation.
He claims he doesn’t jerk off, but I don’t believe that — or maybe I don’t WANT to believe that. There’s guilt festering in my heart about the situation and I prefer to think he’s getting some, even if by his own hand.
Since we stopped having sex, he’s looked at me differently.
He now looks at me with longing, the same look he’d give me before we were officially together — and I love it. We’re not bored with each other and there’s always a feeling of excitement that maybe one day, we’ll have sex again.
But neither one of us is upset we’re engaged in a marriage without sex. And we would never go outside of our marriage to get some. We’re both way too guilt-ridden to do something like that plus, as we always say (corny, I know), we only have eyes for each other. I just gagged, too. It’s OK.
We’re not alone, either. In 2003, Newsweek estimated that 15 to 20 percent of marriages were sexless — and, though I couldn’t find more recent stats, I can only assume that number has gone way up.
Everything you read on the internet shows ways for you to “fix” your sexless marriage, but that assumes that a sexless marriage is actually broken. My marriage is better now than it ever was.
All this means to me is do what’s right for you. And if that means doing nothing, that’s OK.
This article originally appeared on YourTango.
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