It is no secret that human touch is so beneficial on many levels. It boosts your physical wellness as well as mental. Ten years ago, I loved when Phil touched me. He could never massage long because he complained his fingers hurt. But specifically, I always favored a slow, light-pressure scalp massage. When we’d lay on the couch watching television, I’d place my head on his lap, and he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. Sadly, as much as I loved physical affection, I go to great lengths to avoid it now. My husband’s secret addiction ruined my sex life.
Nowadays, the thought of my husband touching me can make me cringe. When I wake in the morning, I try to get up as soon as my alarm goes off to escape his arm, trying to reach under my shirt. I used to wear a lot less clothing to bed. Now, I always wear a sports bra under my shirt as an extra layer of protection.
These feelings have gotten progressively worse over the years. As any relationship ages, habits and insecurities present themselves. Maybe the partner has done a great job hiding for a while, but personalities always shine through at some point. We still sometimes hold hands in the car and group settings. Our kisses are quick, and sex is the last thing I ever want to do.
2019 – His Confession
I don’t remember what we were doing or where we were in our house. Summer was coming to an end in 2019. We had just returned from a week’s vacation in the Outer Banks. Everything seemed pretty normal and chaotic as usual, with four children. Phil came to me and told me that he had a pornography addiction. He said he had been trying to stop for several months but didn’t realize how difficult it would be not to surf the web, given he’s on it all day. I immediately got that knot feeling in my stomach, and I wanted to vomit. I did not get angry or scream. The emotions were so confusing. Not only was I completely devastated, I somehow felt disgusted with myself.
I had already known that he had a “problem” with pornography as a teenager. My mother-in-law has previously made jokes about how, at times, she could not get him out of his bedroom. Phil had admitted that in his early 20s, he recognized he watched too much porn because it affected his sex life with his girlfriends. So why wouldn’t the pattern continue? How could I not realize that with his addictive personality, this habit would not stop?
I took a day or two to process the information, and then we went into a couples therapy session. We had already been going for communication and anger issues, so this just was the cherry on top for me. Phil somehow made himself the victim. I recall him saying that I should have felt good that he confessed and came clean, all while he wanted to get better and stop. I could not believe what I was hearing. Fortunately, our therapist had explained that not only was I allowed to be upset, but I needed to be given time to process and work through it. He had been doing this behind my back our entire relationship.
2019 – My reflection on our sex life.
EIGHT YEARS. We had been together eight years at that point. Eight years of him looking at and masturbating to hundreds of other women. Women that certainly do not look like me. Or I should say, I don’t look like them. I felt so ashamed and questioned what I could have done differently.
I couldn’t help but reflect on our sex life, and things began to make a little more sense, like the way he moved his body in specific ways because that’s what he watched. He very rarely took my shirt off during sex, and I’m assuming it’s because reality did not match up with fantasy. I had asked him about it several times earlier in the relationship. I distinctly recall him saying with a laugh, “Oh, if your boobs need more attention, I’ll give them attention” Yet, nothing changed. (And he still leaves my shirt on during sex the few times we have it)
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to throw up and the more disgusted with myself I became. I felt like I was a prop in his world, and I was much more self-conscious of my own body. Resentment grew every time he closed his door for work.
I decided to throw my energy elsewhere. Anywhere else, really. I started training for another marathon and focused on growing my small business. A small networking group had asked me to join and attend weekly breakfasts and lunches with like-minded people. I filled my time, and I worked through it.
2020 – Lockdown
COVID-19 shut us down on March 13th, 2020. I remember the date because my oldest son was celebrating his birthday, and school started its shut down that day. We were locked in the house as a family of six, and roughly six months had passed since I had learned of my husband’s addiction. As with anything, over time, anger subsided, and our sex life was at last mediocre.
We returned to the Outer Banks in August. One particular day, Phil and I were changing after hanging out at the ocean with the kids. We were wet and sticky with sand, and something sparked furious between us. There was so much passion and need in that quick lovemaking session. I felt that he wanted me at that moment. Sadly, this is my last memory of feeling like that.
Our youngest son started Pre-K that fall and I was excited to attend his first Halloween parade. I stepped out of my office and into Phil’s to let him know it was time to go. Unfortunately, he was in a meeting and had to miss it. A seven-student parade didn’t take more than ten minutes, so I was back home within a half hour and immediately noticed his office door was closed.
I didn’t even knock. I went to open the door, and Phil had locked it. Behind the door, I heard the shuffle, and he started stammering something, moved a chair, and turned the volume of his computer off. He emerged a minute or two later, asking about the parade. He altogether avoided my questioning of what he was doing.
2020 – My turning point
That day, a wall went up. I would say LOTS of walls went up, all brick, mortar, and stone! I started to break away from the physical relationship. We had all other sorts of trust and communication issues going on, and our sex life took another huge blow. I had now lost all desire. Things that had mattered to me, like him choosing pornography over me, suddenly didn’t. I realized I wasn’t going to change him. I wasn’t going to scream and beg to stop looking at and getting off to other women. At that point, I didn’t care what he did. But I also realized that it wasn’t about me. I had no reason to feel shame or that I did anything wrong.
I changed what I could control. This circumstance is when I stopped changing in front of my husband. I started bringing my clothes into the bathroom and locking the door when it was time to shower or get ready for bed. Even in our small camper or when we went on vacation. I grasped every ounce of privacy I had and embraced it. I completely stopped initiating sex, although with four kids, the youngest being two and three, he had already complained I never started sex.
Sex became cold. I wasn’t into it, and I didn’t pretend to be. Sometimes, it was quick, and others, it went on forever. I usually counted in my head to thirty and then backward to zero, over and over until it was over.
2023.
Now, here we are, four years later. I still carry my clothes and change in the bathroom. I never initiate sex. It is the most “vanilla” sex two people can have. I described it in a previous post. The less we have it, the more I dislike it when it happens. It isn’t non-existent, but it isn’t even mediocre anymore. It’s just bad. Sometimes, I still use the counting method. Most of the time, I just shut my eyes and go through my to-do list. He still never removes my shirt. Although, at this point, it’s most likely because he knows I am not into it. I feel my body is a means to an end, and I wouldn’t say I like it. Now, I feel shame for having sex when I do not want to.
A few times over the last few years, Phil asked what he could do to turn me on; however, he’d ask while we were in the middle of it, and I just wanted it over. He has acknowledged that he never appreciated my body the way that he should have, as if admitting the words with no change of action was magically going to boost my libido. I don’t know what to do with that bit of information. That is the extent of our conversations about our sex life. We don’t have much to say about anything anymore.
Phil has said he needs sex to feel connected. Unfortunately, I need some connection to enjoy sex. We’re on two different pages, and I do not know how to bounce back or if I even want to.
This guy, Jimmy, recently popped into one of my social media feeds. He couldn’t have come at a better time and couldn’t have said it better. https://www.facebook.com/reel/652772943327353?fs=e&s=TIeQ9V&mibextid=31j2ax
