I just got done eating lunch, followed by a few fork-fulls of leftover cheesecake. HEAVEN.
Date night went mostly well. To tell the truth, I was looking forward to it so much that, towards the end of the day, my daughter and I started to bump heads quite a bit. I don’t know what her deal was, but she was being unusually difficult and emotional, and my threshold for dealing with it was significantly lower than normal. I seriously wanted to grab her, hold her down, get her dressed, and carry her out the door instead of what actually happened, which was me yelling and pleading with her to listen (while she screamed and cried nonsense) until my husband intervened and I could go take a breather in the other room. I’m not proud of this, but it’s worth mentioning anyway.
We finally got out the door about 40 minutes later than originally planned, swung by The Cheesecake Factory (which was something that was supposed to be done earlier in the day, but got delayed due to naptime turning into a one hour battle), and then dropped our daughter off at the in-law’s around 6:30pm—the exact time our dinner was ready to be picked up in a completely different city. We got our food, came home, and were finally ready to start date night… at 7pm.
The food was good (it probably didn’t hurt that I was starving) and the movie was entertaining, as expected. When it was over I was exhausted, as expected, and not in the mood for sex whatsoever. Then my husband said he had to poop and I was like, now I am really, really over it. We agreed to do it in the morning.
I’ve been thinking for a long time about how I really believe that time and commitment will greatly improve our sex life. We just have to keep working at it. We have to communicate. I can picture it in my head—us having phenomenal sex. Eventually. But we are not there yet.
This morning we woke up, and we both knew sex was on the agenda. I said I needed to use the restroom and brush my teeth, and he said he did too. We met back in bed, and he started by kissing me. I played along, still feeling skeptical. One thing led to another and we were in the missionary position. He was trying to please me, and I felt miles away from being pleased.
Afterwards, I tried to explain to him that I am not turned on by a gentle, considerate sex partner. I want him to treat me like a sex object, like his personal play thing. I want him to be so turned out that he can’t control himself. I mean, I was perfectly shaved, my boobs are bigger than ever, my skin is looking really good. Even being three months pregnant, I feel confident about my body. I want him to see me and feel excited. Instead, when I look at him, it just looks like he’s watching me, waiting for me to respond. And I do! I mean, it’s not like I just lay there staring at him. I close my eyes, focus on the sensations, breathe heavier, and sex sounds happen naturally. But every time I look at him to see how he’s getting into… he’s not. At least it doesn’t fucking look like it.
He tells me that the things that turn him on are making out and heavy petting. UGH. I just feel like we’re at a stalemate. I have ZERO desire to make out with and pet him when I’m not even feeling aroused to begin with. I don’t know. I definitely see more sex therapy in our future, when we can afford that luxury.
Anyway. The sex was fine. I mean, it’s not terrible or anything. It’s fine. I just wish it were hot and steamy, that’s all.
Regardless, today is a good day. I went to sleep at 9:30pm and didn’t wake up until 8am, with no interruptions! Beautiful! I feel more well rested than I’ve felt in as long as I can remember, and my daughter and I are getting along much better now.
Hope you’re all enjoying the week.
Last updated January 12, 2021