Our Daily Sex

I was determined not to have a repeat of day 9. Although it was a slight improvement, I can’t say it was what I had hoped.

It was another busy busy day. Our niece and nephew had slept over with the boys the night before and combined with all of the Saturday kids’ sports events that we had to shuttle around to, it was a madhouse here. We never got a chance to talk about the night before and despite all of my intentions, once again it is not until late that we have time alone.

I hadn’t done my day 9 post yet so we sit together on the sofa. She reads her book club book while I start typing. It is hard to collect and write my thoughts about the experience. I start, erase, and re-start several times. A few times I consider just writing “It fucking sucked” and being done with it. But somehow, I manage to pull the words together.  I am only about halfway through the account when DW begins to put her stuff away, brush her teeth, and get ready to head to the bedroom. Dang it, I do NOT want to have sex in there again tonight.

I save my work and close my laptop just in time to catch her before she goes in. I propose that we stay out here where we can see each other, where there is no white noise CD playing, and where we don’t have to worry about waking the baby. To my relief she agrees and we head for the couch. But she turns out the lights anyway. I really want this to work out and I start out kissing her face, lips, and neck. I am trying to be sensual and “feel” it. But dammit, there is this entire area between her hips and her neck that I’m not allowed to touch anymore. I move my hands to her legs to caress. Suddenly I don’t know what the fuck I am doing. I am not getting any kind of physical response from her. I feel like I am fumbling around like a 14-year-old. It is totally dark and I can’t see what she is doing or if my clumsy efforts are feeling at all good for her. Cue the over analyzing, self-conscious and self debasing head game screenplay; and I just might be winning an Emmy for “Worst Tragedy” tonight.

She can tell I am blowing it though and pulls me in close to her. Our bodies are pressing tightly together. We kiss a little and things are really feeling good. I am able to get back into the moment and my penis is hard. I go inside of her and we start having slow, yummy sex. We are both really enjoying things and it feels wonderful. But somewhere in the back of my mind, there is this cancerous reminder of how the night before had gone and my inner demons are still watching the movie. It is the only thing getting in the way of the here and now and I can’t shut them down. I am suddenly worried that I am taking too long to cum and I am going to hurt her. I changed the way I was thrusting to try to get more sensation to my dick so I can cum but now it is causing her to dry out a little.  Now I am worrying about this too. Good fuck. What is my problem? I suck. Why can’t I just have sex? The pressure to perform (cum) is on again and my inner Siskel & Ebert are tearing me apart. I get very sad and my penis turns off. I feel totally, totally worthless and impotent.

We go to bed where we snuggle for a little while and I tickle her back. She can tell I feel bad and tries to make me feel a little better with a squeeze. The baby wakes up and needs to be fed. I go back to writing my Day 9 post and feeling like shit.

Fast forward to 3:30 AM. Baby has awoken a second time, been fed again, and put back down. The 60 minutes of sleep I have had so far tonight helped calm me and even though I am still feeling pretty fragile,  I am kind of horny. Although we did technically have sex it didn’t end well and I am hoping for some sort of closure.  In retrospect, I was just setting myself up for failure.

I debated for a minute on whether or not to suggest it and finally decided to go for it. I snuggle up close to her. “You wanna wanna?”  (One of our long-time code words for sex) Her response isn’t super enthusiastic. Crap. But she does turn over to me. She feels my penis. “You’re not hard yet?” she says. Double Crap. Why didn’t I try to get it up before asking the question? Here comes the pressure. She plays with my dick for a short while to help me out. My stupid ass psyche is back playing mind games on me again and my dick is not responding quickly. She stops. “I dont wanna do this.” and turns back over the other way.

God dammit. My self critic is back in full swing. I am a fuck up. All the sadness and disappointment of the past two days floods back in a rush. I walk out of the room and spend the next 30 minutes staring at the darkness on the sofa. For that moment, I feel like I will never be the same again.

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