Bad ideas – 1 : Her ultimatum

I’m full of great ideas.
Bullshit!
I’m full of ideas.
Better.
I’m full of shit ideas.
That’s more like it.

As much as I want to let go of caring, as much as I want to just be ok that the sexlife-medics are packing up the defibrillator and calling it, neither a morning nor a night passes without me musing on the deceased, and wondering if there might be some hope of necromancy.

My latest idea

A couple of moths ago, I had a particularly down day. What I’m sure was intended by my Wife as a helpful conversation ended up in friction. But as the conversation stumbled to an unresolved ending, She asked …
Her: Do you think you’ll ever move back into our room?
Me: Right now I don’t really see the point.
I didn’t.
And I still don’t.
Not unless We’re going to have a proper sexual relationship.
And that’s going to take a seismic shift.
From me? Possibly. From my Wife? Definitely.

Six months ago, after Our last session with a sex therapist, we had the following conversation.

Her: First thoughts? If it’s not too soon.
Me: I feel less bruised than previously. You?
She seemed uncertain. Then asked …
Her: Was there anything you said that you couldn’t have said without Sue being there?
I thought.
Me: Was there anything I said that was worth £80 an hour?
Her: That was something I’d been considering too?
Me: No, there wasn’t … actually, yes there was.
Her: Can you tell me what?
Me: The elephant in the room
Her: Sex?
Me: Yes. I mentioned it but no one picked up on it.
Her: I noticed that, but time was getting on and I didn’t know if I should.
Me: We [Ed: What AM meant was “his Wife” …] picked this clinic because they advertise themselves as providing sex therapy, but We haven’t gone near it.
Her: Hmmm. I think We should start a session with it.
And that was about where things finished …

I took that to mean We would have a another session and We would talk about sex.
Now it’s important to remember that as my Wife is the bread winner in the family, and I have fitted what work I do around childcare and Her diary, any appointments We have had jointly during office hours were necessarily and exclusively chosen to dovetail with Her work commitments. It was therefore always She who booked the sessions with the counsellor.
We never had another session.
She never found the time.
She never booked an appointment.
We never talked about sex.
The last sexual contact of any kind We had was six months previously. But if this had been a real concern for my Wife, it was not sufficient to prompt Her to deal with it.
Why?
In my not so humble opinion (to use my Wife’s own historic description of Herself) it is because She is sexually repressed.
So if we ever talk about our relationship again, if She ever asks if I will ever move back into Her bedroom, or if the subject of sex is ever broached, I think I shall be blunt:
Any discussion We have has to be in the context of Her talking to a counsellor on Her own about Her issues with sex.

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