People have been asking whether going to Europe with hubbie brought back a romantic spark.
My answer: Not really. But, I didn’t come back from Europe feeling like we should get a divorce either.
Maybe because on our last night in Massa Lubrensa when I woke up at one in the morning, ran to the bathroom, slid back into bed, and started nudging him, freaking out, “I just got my period, holy shit, it’s our last night in Italy, oh my god, we’re not going to have sex on our European vacation. Do something! Save our marriage!” He did.
He grabbed a towel, got on top of me, and we started fumbling, angrily, passionately, and had sex; and it wasn’t mind-blowing, but it felt connected on some other level, like we understood what we both needed, like there was still something left between us, and so, in fact, hubbie did save our marriage that night.
I’m starting to think I’ve mostly been the aggressor, sexually, in our relationship. Not that hubbie hasn’t come home from work and thrown down, but overall, in the big scheme of our six year relationship, I believe I have initiated sex more often than he has.
And maybe I didn’t think to care about it until now, because we weren’t dealing with odd sex droughts back then.
Back then, nobody kept tabs, nobody cared who initiated what, or when, because we both always wanted it. Back then, when all it took was a certain look, or a five-minute make-out session, or a suggestive rub while spooning on the couch, things were easy.
But now suddenly, we’re forced to look at our sexual life; dissect it, compare what was to what is, and figure out why it’s not easy anymore. And this is where the grievance lists begin: I sucked your dick three times in a row, I rubbed your feet for a half a hour every night last week, I bought porn, I cooked dinner, and it goes on, ridiculously, because at the end of the day, things have changed, but they haven’t really.
I’ve always liked being in control when it comes to sex; being the initiator. Surprises, may stimulate me, or throw me off so much I don’t want to have sex at all. I’ve also always considered myself a sexual woman, and that the two went nicely hand in hand. But I’ve never been in a six year monogamous relationship, so now, when I need something different, and it can’t come in the form of a different man, I bitch that hubbie isn’t trying enough, initiating enough, being aggressive enough, when really that was always my forte, that was what always got my rocks off, except now I need something different. Vicious circle. Or just a productive realization, because it’s not really fair to bitch at someone about something they’ve never really been.