What will it take to make you see?
I feel you just want sex, you don't want me.
A hand reaches out across the bed.
Can't you feel me shrink, roll over, pretend to sleep?
Can't you see that demanding more makes me want it less?
Sleazy gifts of satin and lace? Naughty toys? They're just for boys, they leave me cold.
What does it take to turn me on?
Well.....................
When was the last time you made me smile?
When was the last time you smiled at me?
When was the last time you lingered in a room, just because I was in it?
When was the last time you touched me for no reason at all?
To be greeted with 'Your dinner is ready' rather than 'When will dinner be ready?' would make my day. To be greeted at all even.
When I make lunch, I make yours too. When you make lunch it's just for you.
You live your life, I live mine. In the hurly burly of babies and boys, schoolwork, work-work, homework, housework, there's you and there's me. What happened to we?
Just be nice. How hard could it be? A hug that's just a hug. Not foreplay.
Just be there once in a while. To chat, to pass me a clothes peg or a knife. To listen to a snippet from the paper, gossip about the neighbours, laugh at crap on TV. To tease the boys, tell them how we met, what fun we had when we were young, the places we've been, the things we've seen.
Come out of that office, that retreat. Come live in our world with your boys and me. Let me see you laugh and see you smile, the colour of your eyes, the smell of your skin. The way you slouch in blue jeans. Wear blue jeans, not those old man trousers you've started to wear. Put on some music, play it loud, let me dance.
Stop worrying about the sex. The sex is fine. It's the rest that's wrong.
Why can't you see what it's like to be me?
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Well, that just poured itself onto the page one Sunday afternoon but then I got to thinking- always a bad idea where I'm concerned.
What is it like to be you then? what's it like being married to a bad tempered, grumpy old woman who's always 'too tired'; always making excuses? Do you wish things were different? My friends think I'm mad when I groan about the incessant demands but I can't help thinking that it's not me you want, I'm just convenient, available (Haha, you wish). Or. Maybe it's the only way you can think of to show me you love me?
Yeah, Right.
You put this in a blogpost s you know somebody is going to read it.
ReplyDeleteSo it seems you can communicate.
You just cannot communicate with the one who matters.
You are by no means the first nor will you be the last woman to feel like you do; there used to be 'women's groups' discussing this sort of unhappiness.
Some of us learned to direct these emotions into positive channels, some - not all of us - changed things for ourselves.
You sound very unhappy, good luck.
Yeah, those old man trousers. I know the ones!
ReplyDeleteFriko, you make me think; Fran you make me laugh; thanks to both.
ReplyDeleteReally, I'm not as unhappy as this makes me sound but writing it down is immensely therapeutic - the first stage in getting a grip and sorting things out. Maybe stage 2 will be those trousers!
Happy New Year
So sad but oh so true. Relationships can flounder at times but anyone with an imagination or some romance in their souls should be able to rekindle the flame.
ReplyDeleteOh blimey reading that bought back memories! That could have been me when I was married.
ReplyDelete