On The Knife-Edge

It has been a difficult time for me over the last few weeks.  Without wanting to come across as too self-pitying, or worse, boring, I have been struggling in my relationship with my wife, and with my life in general.  I don't really think that anyone close to me knows it - I sure as hell don't advertise my internal trials and tribulations.  To my friends I'm still the same old #%#^*!.  I'm not sure if my wife is really even aware of my existence, apart from the reliably disparaging comments about the (inadequate) wage that I earn.  As a partner my usefulness stretches as far as my income and my child-minding, and stops at the bedroom door.

Recently I celebrated a milestone birthday.  For the occasion my wife and I went out for dinner in the city to an incredible restaurant, and stayed at a very fancy hotel right in the heart of town.  When we came back to our hotel after our wonderful meal, I was suffering from the belief that there would be some fireworks.  My wife had purchased some very sexy high-heels, was made-up with smoky eyes, and basically looked crazy classy&sexy!  In our room we opened a great bottle of sparkling white, and were kissing and touching, and pretty much getting in the mood.  My wife told me to stand in front of her, so that she could take me in her mouth.  As I did so she said, "I can't deep throat because my throat is really sore."  Okay, well I didn't really care - ANY kind of oral attention is usually very damned delightful.  Am I going to hold it against her if all she does is kiss/lick/suck/stroke my cock?  No, of course not.  After about 30 seconds of what ended up being fairly reluctant oral sex I suggested that maybe we could change position and she could lie back and get comfortable.  She did.  So, with her heels still on, I knelt down and pulled her knees up to raise her pussy and arse to my mouth, and she said, "What are you doing?  I hate it when you do that!"  Meaning, she didn't like me holding up her knees and having her hips tilted upwards.  After nearly two decades that's the first I'd heard about it.  I explained my motivation - all the better to access her pussy with my hungry mouth - but she somehow wasn't impressed.  "You don't need to do that," she said.  Christ, that tone!  Wasn't this meant to by my birthday?  Shouldn't I be the one getting a little extra attention here?  She couldn't help but act annoyed, and I could see that she just wasn't interested.  Not for anyone's sake.  I could not believe that this was really happening.  "Don't bother,"  I said.  "You're feeling sick anyway, what's the point?"  My wife then said, "Thanks for understanding," and then switched on the television!  A great way to spend the night.  Without any mention of feeling poorly at any time during the day/evening, after an amazing dinner with delicious wines, happy and relaxed chatter, this mysterious spontaneous illness had overridden any desire and killed the night.  I had lost out to television.  I fell asleep, furious, and restless.  After a couple of hours, my wife still watching the tv, I woke up, my cock stiff and sore, my balls swollen, and I asked her to jerk me off.  She did, without a great deal of enthusiasm, not in the least impressed by my erection or my volcanic ejaculation.  I was hurt and disappointed and completely despondent.  That was the end of the night.  The next morning we had a delicious breakfast at the hotel, and not a word was spoken about the failed sex from the night before, or about the mysterious illness.  Happy birthday, baby.

This is typical of our sex-life.  Last week I had been successful in seducing my lover after a night out (she looked amazing) and I was feeling like maybe I had just got it all wrong and that things were all okay after all, when during our intercourse she started to give me a lecture about how she hated it when I stop and start and stop again.  I explained that it was to prolong the experience, that I wasn't ready to come yet but if we kept up our pace I would explode.  Her reply was, "Sometimes you've just got to let go."  In other words, "Hurry up!"  Fair enough,  I guess.  Except that my wife is nearly ALWAYS the first to come, and only after a couple of minutes (if that), and I like to lose myself in the experience a bit.  Not just go for it like some dog and get it over with.  I like foreplay, teasing, mixing it up a bit, eating up the sensuality of my wife's beautiful body, lips, eyes, smell, taste - everything!  But when my wife comes, regardless of the passion or vigour, she gets bored with the act of lovemaking.  She is selfish.  It hurts like crazy. 

I can't stand this any more.

Today I spent a lot of time contemplating suicide.  I decided on the manner of my exit.  I devised a method that is foolproof.  Utterly.  I was at work, and burst in to tears.  I was thinking about my children.  I had a friend who, nearly four years ago, killed himself and it devastated me.  I couldn't understand how he could have done such a thing, such a selfish thing.  But now I do understand.  My relationship with my wife is only a fraction of what I want it to be.  I am not desired.  Loved, yeah, of course, but not in any kind of romantic or sexual way.  I am loved by my wife as a brother, not a lover.  My children love me.  I know this.  Would they be better off without me?  Perhaps they would.  I can't stand the way my career has totally stuttered, no, devolved.  I am in a job I hate.  I don't feel that I can change jobs without it having a significantly negative financial impact on my family.  I am trapped.  I am trapped in a relationship that is going nowhere, in a job that feels as if it's killing me, and I feel like there is no future for me.  The one thing that wrenched me from this deep blue funk is the thought of my children.  Is that enough?  Would they suffer because of life continued after a father's suicide?  Would this guarantee a life of cycled depression and anxiety and ensure a lack of coping skills and mechanisms?  They are at such tender ages - would this action scar them forever?  Would their ages mean that they would in fact have time to deal with it and not be overly negatively affected?  Would it make it more likely that they would act in such a way in their future life?  I am trapped.  The concept of free will in life is a farce.

Modern Relations

Such is the way of things.  I say that the issues that we have in our relationship have to do with a lack of intimacy.  She says they have to do with money.  Things are not getting better.