Wonder lust

Extra-marital sex might not be such a bad idea. When you’re not having marital sex.
If you still want to be married it’s inevitably a little more complicated.
And if it turns out your spouse is in the same boat and you’re both completely fine with the reciprocity, and somehow that actually makes you want to fuck each other … well … that starts to get a bit heavy.
But let’s not even think about the impact any of this could have on your teenage kids. Not least when you tell them over dinner that their parents are fucking other people.

Not my world. (Did you really think it might be, Optimistic Reader?) I honestly can’t envisage a scenario where my Wife would countenance extra-marital sex, and after 10yrs of increasing celibacy, I haven’t the faintest idea what She would say if I announced that someone else was filling the hole that We have dug. No, it is the story of Joy and Alan in the BBC drama series Wanderlust.

It’s not a series my Wife and I could watch together.
Her: Are you recording Wanderlust?
She was flicking through the EPG and a telltale red circle was stamped next to the title.
Me: Not intentionally.
I wasn’t. Not intentionally. I had been. I thought it might … oh I don’t know what I thought it might … perhaps if She saw I was watching a show about an open marriage behind Her back, perhaps … Perhaps what? Christ I’m a deluded little prick on occasions! At least I came to me senses and deleted the Record from the schedule and have been watching it online.
Or I thought I’d deleted the Record.
She deleted the Record.
Nothing more was said.

Aside from the fact that there’s far too much sex in the show for me to feel comfortable about, Wanderlust deals with relationship issues and with sex, which means it’s a little too close to home for comfort.
So I’m working my way through the box set on my own. Mostly in bed at night when I can’t sleep, or in the morning when I wake early.

Episode 3: Having spent their respective evenings with their respective fuck-buddies, Joy and Alan end up fucking each other in their car in the middle of an empty car park. As She climbs on top of Alan and urgently sinks onto his cock, they kiss …

… and something hit me.

On 3 or 4 occasions in the last 5 or 7 years, I have said to my Wife that we haven’t been married for years. That might sound like a contradiction, but marriage is more than just a commitment, cohabitation and a piece of paper giving legal affirmation. It is far more. And over the last decade there has been less and less of that more.
On several occasions there have been vague mentions that having sex with someone She does not feel emotionally connected to is a stumbling block for Her.

Men are from an arid, scarred, immutable planet.
Women are from a volatile orb with hurricane force winds and which spins counter to most of its siblings.

There was something in Joy and Alan’s kiss.
There was a connection.
A connection I’m not sure I can envisage having with my Wife.
A connection that She has indicated She needs before She can have sex.
But a connection that for me, maybe, can only exist now if there is sex.
This has been going on so long that I’m not sure I can I feel connected to Her, connected enough to call it a marriage.
That kiss made me feel uncomfortable.
Because I don’t want that kiss.
Not now.
I don’t know.
And having read Hyacinth’s umpteenth tale of indulgent sex, I wonder I ever could enjoy Sex with my Wife again.
I struggled to envisage that too.

Sex isn’t everything – there’s plenty more wrong with Us. And if we ever are going to fix us, We need to start somewhere. In years gone by, sex would have made it easier for me to deal with the other shit, but I’m not sure that’s an option any more.

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