Wow. This is my first post in nearly TEN YEARS. I don't even have anything more to add to that exclamation!
NOTE: This is not good writing. It's not good anything. This is a word/emotions-main break, and there's no plumbers available. It's also kind of PG-13.
It's curious how much sex can affect our moods. It's got admin privileges of the sliding spectrum that is emotion!
Christmas 2018, both my fiancé and I were too busy. He was working 6 days a week, and I had average hours but a taxing commute and my department was working on a huge acquisition.
We had our weeknight evenings in, but we were too tired from two heavy workloads that we quickly became two couch potatoes. Our weekends were chock full of family events, and I felt guilty going to see my parents during the week because that led to more cage time for our year-old puppy. Our poor dog was exasperated from the amount of time we spent not playing with her.
We were so burnt out that by the time I got home and made dinner, if I sat down at all I was not expected to move much the rest of the evening. By the time we made it to bed each night, my fiancé would rub all up on me to try to engage in sexual encounters, and 90% of the time he was met with polite and reluctant rejection. I wanted to! I was just too damn tired. (One could also argue that depression is/was a factor, but that's like an underlying constant in my life anyway ... for example, this blog, from when it was the worst and untreated in high school.)
Then I got my period. Then, the Friday before Christmas, I got sick. I was pretty miserable and unless I initiated cuddling, I didn't want to be touched. It was your average sinus infection/fever, but after all that work and then getting sick right as my PTO kicked in, I was, true to term, not in the mood.
But sometimes if you haven't done it for a while, you will continue to not want to do it, with very short intervals of intense horniness. I can imagine that this is something not many people (especially guys) will not agree with. But if you are a woman who has even been on any kind of birth control, you will know what I'm talking about.
I used to be on the pill for many years, and I took it continuously to avoid getting my period. I would probably only get it once a season. You'd think, with all that free-no-period time, you'd have more sex! No. The pill makes you not want to have sex, and when you do, it's not even that great. It's usually uncomfortable. I sometimes attribute my previously terrible libido to why my past relationships didn't work, but that's neither here nor there at the moment.
So now I have an IUD and it's been merciful. I still get my period, but it's so inconsequential I barely notice it. I haven't bought a box of tampons in over a year. The ... consistency of my periods is enough to deter sex. No one likes that much mess.
Fast forward to the end of December 2018. Once the dark clouds of illness and menstruation started to pass, I could tell my fiancé was getting restless. We hadn't done it in weeks. I have to present the caveat that he has never once, ever, made me feel bad for not wanting to have sex, or even pouted or anything. He is the most understanding partner I have ever had. But, a guy has needs. And I want to provide them!
But again, just not in the mood. This is such a female-oriented trope, that the woman is the gatekeeper of the sex, and that we withhold or engage to get what we want. I am incredibly lucky and grateful that I'm in a relationship where I don't have to play games. I don't have to keep score of who gets what, or does what. I was so uninterested in sex, I was, and will always be, more interested in sleep.
I wouldn't consider myself sleep deprived, but my average night of sleep is usually 6-7 hours and I can get by. But it is still quite valuable to me.
Anyway, enough with the setup, we'll fast forward to last night. We went to my parents for dinner, then came home and sat on the couch (Fiancé playing video games) for about an hour. I knew he had plans for when we retired to the bedroom, but I was dubious. I was getting tired by the minute.
We shut the dog in her crate for the first time in a week, worried that she would just bark her head off like she had been recently. No amount of yelling or bartering would keep this dog from causing a racket. We attribute it to some bit of separation anxiety, probably exacerbated by all the cage time. But this time with one or two defiant barks, she fell quiet.
That left nothing more between my fiancé and I, and he was ready. We had a great sexual experience, with my pleasure arriving thoroughly before his. It was definitely top ten.
Until he rolled over and said, "Why aren't we having sex more often?"
But he said it in his post-orgasm glow, and didn't mean it seriously, it was a rhetorical "we need more of this."
My brain totally misinterpreted it, and even I didn't realize it at first.
I buried my face in my pillow and started sobbing.
Nothing makes a guy freak out like crying after sex. It is not a regular occurrence! I just got overwhelmed and felt helpless after he said that, like his pleasure superseded mine. He knows I wanted to, all of December. "Life just got in the way." Ugh, what a cliche.
I caught up with my own flood of emotion and told him I was totally fine, I just was caught off guard. He was definitely wary of me after that, and was saying sorry up until we turned over to bury our faces in our phones before we went to sleep.
Cue to now, the next morning, and I feel emotionally closer to him, because I'm relieved he is satisfied. And I want to add to that! I just have this weird apprehension. I am running out of words to describe it here, because it doesn't make sense. I am in a healthy sexual relationship with my fiancé, so I don't understand where the apprehension is coming from just yet.
This up and mostly-down with my moods is stressing me out. It feels barely similar to how I felt before I went on anti-depressants. Primarily it's unregulated — even my outburst last night surprised me. When my prescription first kicked in I felt capable. It wasn't a huge or noticeable shift, just enough to do the bare minimum required of me on a daily basis. Now my boredom and disinterest that has always seemed like a constant in my work is starting to bleed back into my personal life.
I keep hearing everyone talk about their New Year's resolutions with words like "self care" and "talking to myself" or "knowing my feelings" ... how am I supposed to do that when I don't even know?!
I think I decided to write this all out because 1) My boss isn't in the office today, 2) I've had a venti coffee, and 3) I'm feeling a lot like I did when I used to blog, IN HIGH SCHOOL. Which is to say, I have a lot of feelings that I'm trying to suss through.
This time, I am infinitely happier when I was before.
I used to love to write, too. TEN YEARS.
NOTE: This is not good writing. It's not good anything. This is a word/emotions-main break, and there's no plumbers available. It's also kind of PG-13.
It's curious how much sex can affect our moods. It's got admin privileges of the sliding spectrum that is emotion!
Christmas 2018, both my fiancé and I were too busy. He was working 6 days a week, and I had average hours but a taxing commute and my department was working on a huge acquisition.
We had our weeknight evenings in, but we were too tired from two heavy workloads that we quickly became two couch potatoes. Our weekends were chock full of family events, and I felt guilty going to see my parents during the week because that led to more cage time for our year-old puppy. Our poor dog was exasperated from the amount of time we spent not playing with her.
We were so burnt out that by the time I got home and made dinner, if I sat down at all I was not expected to move much the rest of the evening. By the time we made it to bed each night, my fiancé would rub all up on me to try to engage in sexual encounters, and 90% of the time he was met with polite and reluctant rejection. I wanted to! I was just too damn tired. (One could also argue that depression is/was a factor, but that's like an underlying constant in my life anyway ... for example, this blog, from when it was the worst and untreated in high school.)
Then I got my period. Then, the Friday before Christmas, I got sick. I was pretty miserable and unless I initiated cuddling, I didn't want to be touched. It was your average sinus infection/fever, but after all that work and then getting sick right as my PTO kicked in, I was, true to term, not in the mood.
But sometimes if you haven't done it for a while, you will continue to not want to do it, with very short intervals of intense horniness. I can imagine that this is something not many people (especially guys) will not agree with. But if you are a woman who has even been on any kind of birth control, you will know what I'm talking about.
I used to be on the pill for many years, and I took it continuously to avoid getting my period. I would probably only get it once a season. You'd think, with all that free-no-period time, you'd have more sex! No. The pill makes you not want to have sex, and when you do, it's not even that great. It's usually uncomfortable. I sometimes attribute my previously terrible libido to why my past relationships didn't work, but that's neither here nor there at the moment.
So now I have an IUD and it's been merciful. I still get my period, but it's so inconsequential I barely notice it. I haven't bought a box of tampons in over a year. The ... consistency of my periods is enough to deter sex. No one likes that much mess.
Fast forward to the end of December 2018. Once the dark clouds of illness and menstruation started to pass, I could tell my fiancé was getting restless. We hadn't done it in weeks. I have to present the caveat that he has never once, ever, made me feel bad for not wanting to have sex, or even pouted or anything. He is the most understanding partner I have ever had. But, a guy has needs. And I want to provide them!
But again, just not in the mood. This is such a female-oriented trope, that the woman is the gatekeeper of the sex, and that we withhold or engage to get what we want. I am incredibly lucky and grateful that I'm in a relationship where I don't have to play games. I don't have to keep score of who gets what, or does what. I was so uninterested in sex, I was, and will always be, more interested in sleep.
I wouldn't consider myself sleep deprived, but my average night of sleep is usually 6-7 hours and I can get by. But it is still quite valuable to me.
Anyway, enough with the setup, we'll fast forward to last night. We went to my parents for dinner, then came home and sat on the couch (Fiancé playing video games) for about an hour. I knew he had plans for when we retired to the bedroom, but I was dubious. I was getting tired by the minute.
We shut the dog in her crate for the first time in a week, worried that she would just bark her head off like she had been recently. No amount of yelling or bartering would keep this dog from causing a racket. We attribute it to some bit of separation anxiety, probably exacerbated by all the cage time. But this time with one or two defiant barks, she fell quiet.
That left nothing more between my fiancé and I, and he was ready. We had a great sexual experience, with my pleasure arriving thoroughly before his. It was definitely top ten.
Until he rolled over and said, "Why aren't we having sex more often?"
But he said it in his post-orgasm glow, and didn't mean it seriously, it was a rhetorical "we need more of this."
My brain totally misinterpreted it, and even I didn't realize it at first.
I buried my face in my pillow and started sobbing.
Nothing makes a guy freak out like crying after sex. It is not a regular occurrence! I just got overwhelmed and felt helpless after he said that, like his pleasure superseded mine. He knows I wanted to, all of December. "Life just got in the way." Ugh, what a cliche.
I caught up with my own flood of emotion and told him I was totally fine, I just was caught off guard. He was definitely wary of me after that, and was saying sorry up until we turned over to bury our faces in our phones before we went to sleep.
Cue to now, the next morning, and I feel emotionally closer to him, because I'm relieved he is satisfied. And I want to add to that! I just have this weird apprehension. I am running out of words to describe it here, because it doesn't make sense. I am in a healthy sexual relationship with my fiancé, so I don't understand where the apprehension is coming from just yet.
This up and mostly-down with my moods is stressing me out. It feels barely similar to how I felt before I went on anti-depressants. Primarily it's unregulated — even my outburst last night surprised me. When my prescription first kicked in I felt capable. It wasn't a huge or noticeable shift, just enough to do the bare minimum required of me on a daily basis. Now my boredom and disinterest that has always seemed like a constant in my work is starting to bleed back into my personal life.
I keep hearing everyone talk about their New Year's resolutions with words like "self care" and "talking to myself" or "knowing my feelings" ... how am I supposed to do that when I don't even know?!
I think I decided to write this all out because 1) My boss isn't in the office today, 2) I've had a venti coffee, and 3) I'm feeling a lot like I did when I used to blog, IN HIGH SCHOOL. Which is to say, I have a lot of feelings that I'm trying to suss through.
This time, I am infinitely happier when I was before.
I used to love to write, too. TEN YEARS.
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