“…I don’t just wish you rain, Beloved – I wish you the beauty of storms…” ~John Geddes
Hubby and I never did fall into a comfortable sexual pattern; it was a constant challenge for me… our libidos were simply mismatched. No matter what I gave, how I performed, or how many boundary barriers I broke through, it didn’t seem to satisfy his needs. He wanted more. Always. The stories and ideas that I had read about in Forum magazine or the movies that we had watched became tame in comparison to the things that he asked of me. I gave, he asked for more. I stretched, it wasn’t far enough. I struggled constantly to meet what I interpreted as sexual demands – they weren’t but I always felt that if I didn’t conform to his desires then he would just get them filled elsewhere – and so I breached every value boundary I knew to have. I was once again, trying to raise children, run a household, work, and satisfy a husband who had no limit where sexual satisfaction was concerned.
The core problem here wasn’t that he was in some way sexually deviant – I try not to experience judgment in this regard. First, because I admittedly enjoy physical pleasure but secondly because human sexuality is a complex and non-linear aspect of our existence. What was essentially problematic for me is that I felt complete and total disregard for MY comfort level, my limitations or values. It wasn’t ‘what’ he wanted to do per se – as I was willing to try almost anything – it was a lack of respect for my wishes when my interest clashed with his. On many occasions, I felt belittled and bullied with comments of “you’re a prude”, “get over it”, or “grow up”. I was led to believe that there was something wrong with my sexuality because it didn’t match his. Sadly, there were few people I could talk to about this – you don’t exactly (or at least I didn’t) sit down for coffee with a friend and say “does your husband want you to …. ? Most of the time we ladies ‘dance’ around the subject and I definitely did that but it was typically limited to the most outer circle of the things I really wanted to know.
I was having some female plumbing issues during these years which, precluded me from enjoying a fully active sex life ALL the time. Frankly, it was somewhat of a relief for me. I felt justified to ‘take a break’ or gather myself when my body wasn’t compromising with his needs. In my mind, it was a respite of sorts. Well, kind of. Life was just easier when he was a happy guy so, HIS basic needs were met as much as I could help it. When the doctors suggested I get a partial hysterectomy as a final solution to my matters – all I could think of was “Shit – that makes my body available 24/7/365.” Because “no” didn’t really go in my house. While I was never physically forced to perform sexually, I do feel (seeing it in retrospect) that I was bullied, emotionally pressured, and quasi-badgered until I caved – to keep the peace; to be a good wife.
Slowly, I opened up to Abee, I figured a sister-girlfriend was probably as close to a non-judgmental person as I would find and when I shared my frustrations and fears with her I experienced some emotional relief. It probably sounded like I was bitching and complaining and perhaps I was. I was at my wit’s end with finding a way to compromise with and feel respected by Hubby. She and I talked often, sometimes several times a day. Depending on what was happening at home we would close our office door and fail to get any work done. She became my confidant and I no longer felt alone with this problem. Our lives became enmeshed. She was engaged but was only able to see her fiancé on weekends. During the week, our relationship was so symbiotic that life was just easy. There were two of us doing practically every job, not just at work but taking care of mom, caring for my kids, cooking, shopping, etc… When her fiancé came on the weekends, we all got along well so our ‘downtime’ became shared time as well.
Abee’s twin lived across a couple of states and sometimes I wondered if this was what it was like for them – a sister so ‘in sync’ that it was as if there was only one of you. Maybe that’s why it was so easy – Abee already knew how to merge. I don’t really know, but after a while, it felt like the lines got blurred but by then I was dependent on the help and on the emotional support. I ignored the discomfort and kept going.
Mom and Abee were fixtures in our home – or us in theirs. I loved having family members so close by, not just because I was sharing life with my mom but because my girls were sharing theirs. She would come to chorus concerts, girl scout events, and help with school projects. Abee was always there to help us with birthday parties, coordinating outfits, or making dinner. She was becoming quite the teen advisor / mentor our daughters, many times overriding the need for ‘mom’ because she was so much younger and ‘cooler’. I was glad that the girls had someone like that in their lives. Every young girl needs someone besides a mom, to model.
Abee’s engagement broke off when the long-distance thing just couldn’t keep up. It wasn’t that simplistic of course and it was hard on her. By then, Mom was physically healthier and they relied on one another for just about everything. They became partners – in their combined ‘singleness’, they became dependent on one another for comradery, daily living, and financial support. They protected one another from the outside world. We were right there with them in what we believed to be the essence of family.
At work, Hubby and I continued to offer Abee more responsibility as she consistently demonstrated tremendous competence. Hubby and Abee traveled more together and they became a powerhouse team, propelling us into even more success. Our dreams were coming true. We had been outsourcing our HR needs and our ‘rep’ was a brilliant kid (relatively speaking) who I eventually convinced to work for us full time. We began to groom him to take over for me – managing the administrative duties of our office so that I could be more involved with the girls. Financial freedom was just around the corner and our vision was almost fully realized.
As good as everything looked on the outside, there was trouble brewing at home. The sexual tension that existed between Hubby and I was at an all-time high. Our fighting about it was me attempting to find a mid-point – a center where I could feel comfortable but it just wasn’t close enough to meet him. We didn’t know how to fight well and our fights were often verbally abusive – although I couldn’t give back as much as I got; I just didn’t have the vocabulary. I gave up time after time, in a mass of tears, once – huddled in a corner, on the floor, as I wrapped my arms around my legs and felt my spirit drift away.