I know how exciting it is to see someone’s life transform, and listen: I’m as prone to this as anyone else but I think there may be some extra glee when the transformation looks like a slightly painful unraveling; a state I’m all too familiar with. Well… Shame on you. LOL of course not. I am absolutely JK-ing. It’s amazing to watch when people fall apart. Schadenfreude is my favorite sex position. But guess what friends, I am not falling apart. Not in this context, really.
I’m a husband-guy.
Probably. Is that a thing? That’s how I’d like to frame this post anyway. I came out in my last post, I think it’s fair to say? It’s more likely I just wanted you to know I have come to terms with the fungibility of sex. I’m a husband-guy because the relationship I’m in is the thing that isn’t changing, and hence the transformative aspects of my self-discovery lack that arabesque quality. I’m just getting some details right for you guys. That’s all.
And I mean who knew. That a straight man attached to me for fifteen years could accept the terms of this self-actualization? Do we believe it? Is this gonna work?
Deep in my soul is the desperate need for stasis.
Deep in my soul is the desperate need for ecstasy.
My husband is someone who wants to share in the margins of my life, even if sometimes that means the typewriter is not broken. He wants me to love what he loves. I want to love what he does. Me.
I’m taking a break from sex. That’s probably a horrible declaration. Unlikely and uninteresting. Wohn wohn what a let down. She’s just come out and is already out of the game. Yes, that’s real news right now. I mean did I want to come out and immediately be ravaged, night on end upon night on end, by a team of cumthirsty lesbians? Sure. Do I think a better relationship with a human is possible than the one that has proven nourishing for a third of my life? Absolutely not.
We went on a family outing on a lake not long ago. I insisted on rowing the boat at one point because I was frustrated with how husband was navigating us in circles. We traded places. He warned me it was harder than it looked. I thought circles were bad enough but when I started rowing I navigated us in a dot. Not moving so much as wobbling. Husband joked:
You’re seriously going to have to improve your boat rowing game if you want to impress lesbians.
We laughed. Our son just sat there asking one of us to get the boat going faster. We are having fun. Our anarchy looks like a nap on water. Our peace is a lot of masturbation. Soon all three of us will be doing that in our own rooms. I highly recommend this for all families. It honestly sounds like fun.
I feel sorry for people who can’t think about sex without getting depressed. And what I mean by “feeling sorry” is as in, I feel real sympathy, not some patronizing pity. And I don’t want to be that person. So it’s ok if you don’t want to be that person. And it’s ok if you do. And I don’t care anymore if that’s something I need to accept about the world we live in now. I also live in the world now.
I’m going to find out how soft I am before I do anything else.