The Other ShoePosted: October 6, 2014
I’m off my game, I’m off my rocker, I just don’t feel right.
Last week was stressful. We had a major fundraiser, a grieving co-worker, a suicidal client, and my own personal death threat delivered from the annals of the psychiatric ward. I’ve got a parent in the hospital and a child’s birthday party to plan. I’m not sure if any of this is contributing to my shit-tastic frame of mind, but, I kind of lost my shit this weekend.
I don’t want to talk about it.
I will talk around it, instead.
The problem, from where I sit, appears to be not a mismatch in appetites, but a mismatch in circumstances.
Man has sex with wife every day = does not need to ravage me over and over and over.
Girl has sex with husband very sporadically = needs man to pound her until she can’t walk.
Of fucking course.
I laughed it off.
And then I went home, and took it out on my spouse.
Because clearly, this is all his fault.
Why can’t he fuck me on a regular basis so that I can function like a normal human being?
There was sobbing. Items were thrown. Wedding rings were chucked at walls. Doors were slammed so hard the paint chipped. Words were said. There was lots of volcanic anger.
Gentleman Friend called, and I was crying when I answered the phone. He came over. Offered to take me to his place, but frankly, I didn’t feel like dealing with any more rejection.
Because that’s what it is to me. It doesn’t matter how much you like/value/respect/care about me, if you don’t want my sex as much as I want yours, you’re rejecting me. It doesn’t matter if it’s just biology. It doesn’t matter if you already have sex EVERY DAY and you happen to be a mere mortal. Actually, scratch that, it does matter.
It matters because it just ads insult to injury. I may adore you, I may adore your wife, but that doesn’t mean I am not rabidly jealous of the fact that both of you can get what you want, right within your own home. It matters because she comes first. I’m not going to ask you not to fuck her every day so that you can be properly horny for me, but it does of course beg the question of whether or not I am going to be okay with leftovers for the duration of this relationship.
Vicious. I am being vicious and I know it. I don’t even know why I’m writing this, except that I just need to get it out.
Nothing is perfect. I know this. And he is pretty damn close. Its not like this is even a consistent problem. It was an issue once. So what is my problem? It just brought me back to all the pain and rejection I have experienced throughout my marriage. It made me want to scream “No!” It made me cry, and I felt ridiculous hiding my face so he wouldn’t notice. We both think I need another FWB.
Sugar Daddy needs to go. According to Gentleman Friend (who is an awesome lover, but unfortunately not of the marathon variety), we can find me “another piston dick.” I love how he doesn’t give a rats ass who I fuck, or why, as long as the person treats me with respect and doesn’t fuck with my head. The Sadist would be a contender, but he is so rough and so extremely kinky, that it would probably be too much for me on a regular basis. I wonder how he’d feel about just straight-up fucking, but he is kinky to the core so I’m not sure he’d be interested.
I have to remind myself that Sugar Daddy isn’t the only Piston Dick out there. I had plenty back home.He just happens to be the first man I fucked when I moved.
I don’t really feel like putting in the effort to find another, but I suppose that I must. Is it a character flaw to need to be banged like a screen door in a hurricane?
I spent some time this weekend researching androgen blockers. Apparently if I go to the right doctor and tell them I am having sex with strangers every day and am concerned about my safety (though this is not actually the truth), I can get them to prescribe something to hit the kill switch on my libido.
The Hubby was horrified when I mentioned this as an option, but I don’t think he understands the torture of insatiability. He says he doesn’t think it would actually make me feel better, because it would be denying a part of myself. I wonder, though, if I would even care. I mean, I’m sexual, but would it continue to be an important part of who I am if my sex-drive was missing? I know this is a pretty extreme option, and it’s not one that I’m likely to pursue.
I just felt desperate this weekend. I screamed and I clawed, and I felt like the only thing that would help would be screaming and clawing while getting banged into next week.
Is it hopeless? Am I doomed to find men who are awesome in life but can’t keep up with me in bed, or who are inexhaustible in bed but insufferable in life? Is it possible to find someone who is both?