Unimaginable

The road that could lead back to my Wife and me fucking is unlikely to be smooth. It’s entirely possible there are parts or that road that have been so badly damaged that the route is impassable. One way or another We’ll find out. I guess.

I would have guessed more of the stumbling blocks would have been down to my Wife than me: I’m a horny sod at the best of times, so why wouldn’t I want to get back to fucking? Especially when the emotional connection that comes from fucking has proved to be such a huge loss for me over the years.

Yet it turns out there could be

Step into the unknown

A week after having vowed to snuggle up on the sofa every evening, and go for a (short) walk once a day, We went for a (long) let’s-check-how-We’re-getting-on week-end walk. If I say the last couple of long walks have each been over 8 miles, that should give you some idea, Dear Reader, of how much ground We have covered conversationally too.

About 3 days into the week

Tradition

After breakfast, as my Wife packed Her bag to leave for the office …
Me: I’ve got to run an errand and it’s cold – do you want a lift to the station?
She accepted.

5min later, in the station car park, She unbuckled Her seatbelt and

Not the ending I expected

It doesn’t really matter where arguments started. It matters where they ended.

In between, there were two or three others, and an increasing agreement that the next step was both inevitable and terminal. It’s not a step that I really want to take, because of the consequences for me. It’s apparently not a step that my Wife wants to have to take, not least because of the consequences it will have for me. For all She might want rid of me, She is not unsympathetic. But increasingly, over the space of a few days,

Suspicious contact

By all accounts, a successful marriage takes work. It goes against my naive fantasy about what a marriage should be, that the received wisdom is that you have to keep working at it. That’s something We have consistently failed to do. Keep working at it. Whether it was the proposal of make-up sex, or

Hopelessness?

This morning I read of Storm’s broken vagina. Thankfully it is not a story without hope, at least for Storm, but it robbed me of some of mine.
Storm writes …

Walk the talk

[sigh] … where to start … ?

Over the last week or three, I’ve been enjoying writing about just sex. Why wouldn’t I? It’s my favourite subject. I used to like sex, and I like to think I still would, given an opportunity to indulge. But that spectre still lurks.
The two headed monster of Marriage/Divorce.
I haven’t wanted to write about it, but it hasn’t gone away. And it’s clear from the atmosphere at home that it hasn’t gone away.

In the last couple of months, We’ve

Thanks for all the fish

It seems perverse, after so long.
So long blogging about a failing marriage.
So long barely blogging at all.
So long not saying let’s get a divorce.

Well, not any more.

It’s done.
I’ve said it.
I’ve said Let’s get a divorce.

That’s not strictly accurate. What I said was probably more like We’re getting a divorce.

Oh why am I telling You, Dear Reader? I’ve told you precious little in the last few months. Prior to that, I’ve only told you my side of the story. It’s none of your concern. It’s arguably not mine to share with you. Especially after so long.

But fuck! Who else am I gonna tell?

It’s been so long.
I tried for so long.
Or maybe not.
Probably I gave up so long ago.

The ripples of the past will be felt so long into the future.

So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Openess

The last few weeks have been tough at Chez AM. I’m not going into details, but both my Wife and I seem to have felt increasingly that We’re on the brink of divorce. Even our weekly counselling sessions have been turbulent.

Amidst that, somehow We agreed We would sit down this last weekend and talk. One thing that has become increasingly apparent recently is our ability to have the same conversation and yet walk away from it as if We had had two entirely different conversations. So even that conversation nearly didn’t happen. Nearly.

Kirsty, our counsellor, has recently asked Us to think about what would be Enough to save the marriage. What would We respectively need as a minimum for it to be worth saving?
There was some discussion of Enough, and other things – fractious discussion – and then, at my insistence, We talked a bit about sex.
Yes. Dear Reader, We actually talked about sex.
Again, I’m not going into detail for the most part, but …

Barometric

I stopped wearing my wedding ring years ago. Well, I stopped wearing it on my hand. Instead it has hung on a chord around my neck, like some cadaverous albatross. Maybe that sounds a little morbid, but the chronic dysfunction of our relationship has long led me to feel We have not been married for most of Our marriage.

In the meantime,