Sex

Sex with Sally is always I bump and you don't, you grind and I don't, I do and you won't. Almost always, we were out of synch, OK at best, even in the very beginning. That's why I was so uncertain about marriage from the start, in like but not in love, at least in the lustful way that I had always known it. Of course, I speak from memory, not having intimate relations with my wife (or anyone else for that matter) in more than a decade. Before that, there was Molly who was always willing and able, instaiable and Alice, much the same, who told me "it didn't get any better, trust me," and Lyn and Pam and Susan and Barbara and Tanya and Christina, and before that Carey and Jeanette and Lisa and Caroline and Wendy and Carla and Carol and Susan and there were others, dozens all in all. Nearly all fun, nearly all of them wonderful in some way if not destined for marriage to me, nor I to them, I'm sure. But now, after years of nothing. Years of emptiness, without physical companionship aside from sharing a bed like a brother and sister, I ache for something more. It is the undivulged secret of our marriage, the missing ingredient, the probable cause of why things are not what they ought to be. There is no lovemaking, only friendship and a trust. When I think about the girls and women I slept with, most of them were there for fun, not for the duration. Maybe a few were. It seems that the more intense the physical relationship, the more damaging was its aftermath. The frustration of having a partner who has little or no interest in sex, at least with me, since the days when we wanted to have a child, sex for procreation's sake, over thirteen years ago now is acute at times, nonextant at others. I wonder if this little secret is one which more couples share than they'll admit? I wonder if this asexual life is what many of us experience, yet almost none admit or talk about, even to the Kinseys and the Masters and Johnsons of the universe? I don't know, but I sure wonder. If we only go around once in this life, I sure have missed something I used to like a lot.