sex&love&the middle


I find that I’m in a strange situation. I’ve been celibate for more than five years now. He and I lived together as roommates, only, while we were separated. This caused a lot of tension between us. He viewed me as his property, as far as anyone could tell by the way he treated me. In his view, how dare his property refuse him that which was his? But I didn’t give in because I knew that, if I ever did, there would be no end to it. He always seemed to forget that I only returned home on the advice of our attorney, retained to handle the serious legal issues we faced.

The day he died, once the doctors left and things were quiet in the room, my mother, brother and oldest son sat at his bedside. I was crying…I could not believe he was gone. I mentioned that I felt strange being so very upset since we’d been separated for years. I did not expect to experience a feeling of such deep loss. My oldest son looked up and said, “Mom, Dad always said you’d be his wife till the day he died. Yep, he called that one!” We all had a good laugh as we sat together, taking in the sight of this man who was so alive only one day before. He grew colder and colder as minutes wore on. Finally, I had to leave, so my mother and brother went to get my truck for me. My son walked me downstairs and we embraced and he told me he was going to sit with his father for a bit. I told him I loved him as I walked out the doors of the hospital.

Though he and I had no sexual relationship, I did not date during our separation, although I did talk to several men I was interested in. Prior to an actual date, I’d come up with some crazy shit to argue with them about and they’d tell me to fuck off and that was that. I had good reason. In spite of my insistence that I was a single individual, I always knew that, were I to actually date anyone, he or I would end up in the morgue. My husband’s addiction had led him to a point where certain aspects of his personality, already volatile, were greatly exacerbated by his drug intake. He was always a jealous man, even though he was the one who cheated and was well aware that I never had.

Last year, after we moved up here, he began a habit that I found chilling and infuriating, at once. If he thought that I was chatting with a man on my phone or pc, he’d go get his AK and prop it up by his chair. He’d say he heard a noise or what have you, even in the light of day. A man stoned out of his mind sitting next to a rifle is a powerful image. It was an image that did not go ignored by me. I told him on many occasions to go ahead and shoot me and get it over with, since he was slowly sucking my life away, anyhow. He wouldn’t even say a word. Sometimes, he’d roll his eyes, but that was about it. But, to me, at the end of the day, it wasn’t worth the trouble. So, I never dated…although I did fall in love with someone online. Yeah. I did. I’ve written about it here a little. But, that’s another story.

The thing is that I’m starting to really feel as though I want a man in my bed. Not necessarily in my life. It goes against everything I believe to have that ‘hit it and quit it’ hookup thing going on, but I just want to make love. I don’t want any S&M involved, or any kink whatsoever, for that matter. I just want to feel the touch of a man who at least pretends to care.

Yes, I do think that it would be settling to engage in that behavior. But I don’t know if I’m ever going to find a relationship. I don’t ever want to marry again. If I do, it will only be a promise we both make before God, no paper for the tax man or the national headcount. I want to have big huge love in my life. I want to take care of a strong man and know that I’m the only woman in his mind and heart. I want an honest man. One who’d never cheat and lie to me. I want a man who can handle me. And that’s asking a lot. I’m too much. And I know that. But I can’t change it.

Being 49 and pre menopausal, there are days on end when I don’t even think about sex. Then, there are other times when it’s all consuming. During those times, I feel so incomplete as a woman without a man to call her own. This didn’t just start when he died. I’ve felt this way for years. Only now, I can pursue any sort of relationship I want to. When I think about it, my brain literally shakes. I swear! And my eyes feel as though they’re gazing into a vast canyon…miles and miles of emptiness before me. I don’t know whether to jump off into it, or run away from it.

I’ve been on a dating site for some time now. Mostly for conversation. It would be so easy to pick up the phone and have a man in my bed tonight. I think that’s pretty funny, since I’ve gotten so fat, but lots of men like that. lol! Wow! I could have a slave, a man with a foot fetish, one who likes to be tickled…a true blue masochist (yummy!)…on and on. It’s like standing in front of the cooler at a convenience store trying to decide what type of soda you want. But, the thing is, what none of them really seem to need is love. And I need to give it as much as receive it. Love, that is. It’s an aching need to care for a man…to truly love someone.

One of my FB friends left a comment on my timeline one day. He said: ‘Elle, you’re like a box of chocolates.’ He was absolutely right. Even I never know what I’m gonna get from one day to the next, especially since he died and all these emotions about my childhood and life with him and so many other things have surfaced. It’s all coming at me so fast and I just don’t know how to …get it from my head to my life to problem solved status. Now this love thing is rearing its head again and I’m so confused.

I guess I better get something done. It’s nearly five o’clock and I’ve spent the day thinking about sex and love and watching The Middle. Maybe a lil chocolate will help…


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