The all-important dirty talk

I talked to my husband. I started this blog so I could bitch about him in a way that I never would to people I really know, people who really know me. People who would continue to watch us interact. In real life.

In real life if you call your husband a lame lover and bitch about how all he does is work and has no friends, they'll assume that its absolutely true and that there is no saving things. And maybe they're right. Or maybe I just get really pissed and need to say that even though there are many,many times I put my head on his shoulder and know it is exactly where I should be.

So I talked to him. We were on our way to a charity function (which makes us sound rich and fancy but really we just both work in/frequent the non profit world a lot.) He asked something about sex and I told him that I thought we should stop "trying" for a while.

I had a miscarriage in May and we've just started trying again recently. The whole thing has been really hard on everything. But I'll get to that later.

So he said "Because of ski season." I'd actually planned my previous pregnancy around ski season because I'm an insane skier.
"No, because we haven't been getting along."

A look of utter shock passed over his face. This was somehow news to him. Which I found miraculous and infuriating and incredible and unbelievable and many other things. But I shut my mouth about that.

We've had a significant number of talks about sex. Which mostly means that I talk. About how we need to be able to talk about sex. And by "we" and I mean "HE." I can talk about sex just fine. In bed, to strangers, at the doctor's office. Its a favorite topic of mine. The talks not only consist of me telling him we need to have better communication about sex (i.e. more exciting sex with the all-important dirty talk) but also the fact is we don't have enough of it. I want more than a max of twice a week. I remember when the minimum was twice a day. While I don't think that's practical for our lifestyle now, I do think we can manage more than weekly contact. He figured since he'd been upping the amount, the case was closed and all was well in relationshipland.

Sorry. No.

I was quiet and we got in the car to drive to the event. He asked what not getting along meant. I explained that he doesn't DO anything anymore. I told him that he clearly only prioritozes doing his job well and while I respect the work he does, our marriage is not in the priorities rankings. Worse still, I said, was that he didn't seem to have any desire to enjoy his life, to thrive. And I do.

I told him that he doesn't have any fun anymore and that the fun I've had recently he hasn't been a part of.

I told him I could feel myself separating from him. Bit by bit. Activity by activity. Priority by lifestyle. Sexuality by friendship.

He was quiet for a long time and I could tell that it had sunk in.

That night he slapped my ass during sex and took a little nibble hear and there. He talked about buying cross country skis and I am hopeful for a change.