Feeling sorry for myself

I think that I have made sacrifices for my family. For my marriage. For my children.

I am getting to the point that I am frustrated that these choices have not been recognized as difficult or that they even happened.

So, here I am. Sitting with PK this weekend, with the girls at camp. He wants to play around... ok. That sounds like fun. But as I lay there I realize that he has no idea what pleases me in bed. He uses the same approach every time. 45 seconds of foreplay downstairs to get me to go up to bed. 90 seconds of kissing... and then one dry finger to my clit that he then rubs too hard. No matter how often I have said, make it wet. Make it wetter. Make it sloppy wet. He never remembers.

My body betrays me off course, I am so starved for any touch that I cum... and hard. So I guess I don't need anything more. Don't deserve the extra attention. But it makes me think of other times... other men... They didn't all care about me, per say. But it was worth it to them to try to please me. So I would try in return. A mutual exchange of the joy of being alive. Because we don't all have that.

Of course, I know how he likes it.

He wants to see my feet. And if they are dirty all the better. He wants me between his legs, kissing, licking and sucking him. Using my hands, mouth and tongue to please him and I do. Just the way he likes it. Even if the position is awkward. Because it makes him happy. 19 years of marriage and he doesn't even try to remember what I like.

And that is our relationship at this point.

We do things that he prefers as he prefers them. If we talk about exercise... well I can use his very expensive treadmill. I don't need anyone to help me move the shelves that keep me from getting my bike down. I can't even get it down without help. I don't need to swim in the sunshine. I can go to the YMCA with its second class ladies locker room. I don't need a kayak so I can explore the river to distract me while I am exercising.

I can do things his way.

We watch movies that he wants. Tv shows that he wants. When he wants them. If I mention that I want to see something... well I can. alone. I am his companion when he wants it. And if I want something else? I should just go take care of it myself. Alone. Always alone. Because I made vows to forsake all others. And he hasn't broken his vow as he knows that I have. And of course, that makes him morally superior to me.

So here we are this afternoon. He wants to go out again for margaritas. We just went on Thursday. I don't want to go again. and said so. I am getting the pout. It is part of my job to give him what he wants.

He can't even be bothered to save the information about the therapist we were referred to. He isn't interested in saving the marriage. It is just exactly the way he wants it. except that I won't go for margaritas this afternoon. Can I put the information in my desk. So the next time someone goes scavaging through the desk looking for something that doesn't belong to them they can toss it back onto the dining room table and become MY clutter.

Not ours.

My problem.

Fluttering around like a charred ash...a reminder of the destruction that continues.