My still very attractive wife of thirty two years has a habit of penciling out on a piece of throw away paper, the message she intends to send via birthday or thank you card. She then edits this written message on that piece of throw away paper before writing in ink, her final version on the actual intended card.
Invariably she asks me also to edit her penciled version. She writes a beautiful original message and I rarely have need to edit it but she always tells me to read the initial version before she commits it to pen and paper. I never could understand the need for my reviewing the note. I have had to work to accept this quirk of her personality.
Now you might understand my reaction when, while dumping the trash cans one Sunday evening, one of her notes floats away from the trash can onto the garage floor. This particular piece of nondescript three by five crumpled paper, opened somewhat as it floated to the floor. It lit with the penciled message side up. I picked it up, as I would any piece of trash intending to deposit it into the large trash barrel which is the final container for the garbage company to pick up once a week one Monday mornings.
As I leaned over to pick it up, my eyes could focus on the message with which I was not familiar. In fact, it was one I had not seen or edited. This was quite unusual as she is very particular and demanding that I edit her every birthday, thank you or call back note. That's just her personality. I think it is a bit over kill but I have accepted it as reflecting her feelings of insecurity. She has other minor quirks of behavior which confirm to me her deeper disturbed needs for intense social conformity.
As a result she is inhibited in a number of areas of her life. This is especially true of her extremely conservative dress. Our relationship has been strained on many occasions because she just can't "cut loose" and have fun for the sake of having fun. She is always worried about what others will think of her. She, on the other hand doesn't mind the house being in a major degree of chronic disarray. That is until neighbors, family or friends are expected. At that point she panics and becomes unnecessarily demanding that I either straighten it all up immediately or give major assistance to picking up, dusting etc. Hopefully you get the idea. It is okay with her if the house is littered with yesterdays or last weeks newspapers and candy wrappers if it is just me and her here. But God forbid if even a delivery person should see the messy house.
Even if one of our three married children returns for a short visit, this sudden need for appearing "proper" takes over everything, replacing every activity until the house is neat. They know the mess I am forced to live in and her reaction to their impending visits. This leaves me with the distinct feeling that I am not as nearly important as the occasional delivery person.
She cleans the house and dresses up only for others. Hubby (realdoc) doesn't count it seems to me. Her dress is so conservative that the only skin visible is on her face and hands. Even her legs , including her ankles of course, are covered at a minimum with hose. This has gotten more pronounced over the last few years. "Old people shouldn't show off their wrinkles" is a frequent reply to my request for a more modern outfit. She has a beautiful body but refuses to show it off, even to me in the privacy of our secluded home.
Back to the fallen piece of paper. I read with increasing interest the note she had written and then slightly altered.
The note read as follows:
"Dearest Hal,
I awakened Friday morning to quite a
beautiful surprise!
Thank you for the beautiful blue
See through nightie. I will take it on my next vacation
trip and wear it for you to again ravish my needy body
when I see you again next month.
How thoughtful of you.
I shall always remember our intimate special times. You fill me full to overflowing. smiles.
Your gift(s?) are always so appreciated
And our special times so full filling.(wink)
Again, thank you, my love.
Sherrie."
She had made a few minor changes but the message was very up front and transparent to me. I suspect you can interpret it also.
There was no date on the note. This was not unusual as all her initial notes were without dates. Now I empty the trash exactly once one week no more and no less. I do this religiously every Sunday evening prior to the Monday morning trash pickup. The note had to have been written this past week. I looked again at the penciled note. On the other side was another note: take check to Curves. I remembered that yesterday (Saturday) she reminded me that she had gone to exercise at Curves on the previous day (Friday) and also paid them their monthly fee.
I thought back to last week. I had been out of town on business from very early Thursday morning until very late Friday night. Yesterday we had gone grocery shopping then eaten out. She always seemed pleased to have me arrive home. Last Friday was no exception. A sterile kiss on the cheek is all I get. I have given up trying for anything more. She always has prepared a weekend "Honey do" list for me. I guess that one had already disappeared into the garbage container. Everything was accomplished that was on it. I didn't look for it.
Our children have long since left our house. That leaves just Sherrie and me. Sherrie had moved out of our common marital bed seven years ago. Then three years ago we purchased a smaller town-house in a nearby bedroom community. She insisted on having her own bedroom and bath. "You snore!" was her excuse. I didn't and still don't. I had set up a sound activated recorder several nights at bedside. It caught my occasional cough and turning in the bed but no snoring. Sherrie just said I didn't test enough nights. Three nights was plenty for me to convince myself that snoring was not the problem. Then she said I get up at night to pee and that wakes her up. I don't get up since I quit drinking a glass of water with my nighttime blood pressure medicine. Just a sip will get it down. Regardless, of all arguments and pleadings, I was cut off from all intimacies such as snuggling and sex. As a result our communications went to hell in a handbasket.
Our sexual relations had already stopped at that point, having tapered off over the previous several years. This was cause for a serious disagreement but I lost out. I believe she cheated me out of my spousal rights as surely as if she had been actively cheating with another man. When I told her this she really hit the ceiling calling me a pervert and mentally whacky. I was left with accepting her as she had become, argue incessantly, or leave.
I gave serious consideration to the latter. Due to my strongly held religious views on marriage, I had accepted the new norm of sleeping solo. I rapidly became not only her handyman, but my own. Gradually I came to prefer her absence. We had slipped into this less than optimal buddy living arrangement against my will and better judgment but felt I had no alternative. I suggested marital and or sexual counseling but these were rejected forthwith on multiple occasions. Each time was associated with increasingly loud vocal rejection. I came to believe that life was actually better the less we saw of each other. This made avoiding the pain of having a beautiful room mate who was off limits to emotional and sexual sharing much more tolerable.
I still worked regularly but with fewer total hours and significantly fewer overnights away from home for the past four years. I now had breakfast at home and usually got home well before five pm having avoided most of the evening traffic. Lunch hours disappeared of course. These welcome work changes came about after being promoted to a senior position four years ago. Our income was more than adequate especially now with the promotion plus our three kids out of college and living independently.
Essentially we were like long time acquaintances living together. I would say we shared a lot but that really wasn't true anymore. We had shared for the first twenty five years but the past few years became an increasingly dry desert emotionally. Sherrie had never worked so her sharing the burden of the household activities was now relegated to some charity work, exercising, watching television and fixing an evening meal. Of late, this meal had become simply a TV dinner with small side salad. In my mind, she had retired from home making, child rearing and husband satisfying. I couldn't understand how she could go without sex as she demanded of me. I wondered if her pussy was as dry as the desert we lived in.
She had a gynecologist but never discussed or revealed what they talked about or if she took replacement hormones or whatever women take in her age bracket. She refused to talk about sex, arousal, menopause or anything about her body with me. Maybe I was lucky as my friends told me of the numerous complaints there wives had with hormones, sleep, weight gain and depression all arising, seemingly, from their empty nest syndrome.
So where does this leave us. It was an uncomfortable living arrangement but with familiarity of a mutual past history of thirty some years and shared children. Otherwise we lived separate lives. Mine was work, exercise, music and stunt flying as a hobby. Hers was whatever she did while I was out earning the way for the two of us. I had never given any previous thought that she might be fooling around as she, in our early years had been so insecure acting She continued dressing very conservatively. There was no change in fear that others might see her with a hair out of place or a speck of dust in the house. My friends sometimes commented on how "proper" she was. She dressed sloppily around the house and, to my way of thinking, did a piss poor job of housekeeping. Still, she had kept herself in really good physical shape. Whenever, on those rare occasions, I got to see her partially undressed, I saw a beautiful sexy body. It was body I longed for but that was off limits to me.
I frequently told her I missed sex with her but her reply was, "Well we are getting older and I have no need for that anymore".
Somewhat angrily my reply was usually something like, "Well I still have needs and I hate to just masturbate in private because you refuse me".
"Honey, have I ever refused you?"
