IF NOT NOW, WHEN?
Leena Remark
This is the first story in a series of sexcapades. Many, many thanks to my editor ThatsBogus, who gave me the encouragement to dive into character development to make the story stronger. I hope you connect with the characters and even possibly see yourself. Any feedback is welcome.
*
After more than 25 years, Richard and I were in the all-too-common mature (read 'rut phase') of our marriage.
We ate at the same restaurants, even though we lived in an area with diverse choices. Since we moved from the Seattle 22 years ago, we have hung out with the same network of couples. In addition to a few camping get always with reservations at the same locations and times each year, our other vacations were identical: time at my parents' cabin in Eastern Oregon over Memorial Day weekend, the other on the Washington Coast with his folks in the fall.
Our house that we lived in from almost 19 years is nearly untouched (not for my lack of trying -- 'why do we need a change? It's great the way it is' -- was the resistance I'd get from Mr. Dick.) Hell, we are still driving the same paint chipped, yet trusty Subaru we've owned for two decades.
Not one to cause a fuss, a debate (he wouldn't listen anyway), or be too bitchy, I didn't say anything when I've found our lives become b-o-r-i-n-g and routine. Fight your battles, I kept telling myself.
Our sex life, other than the obligatory 'duty' on our birthdays, like an untended plant, has shriveled up. That was a decade ago. Our life has become like our parents -- something I told myself that would never happen.
Oh, there were the occasional attempts (on my part anyway), especially after I've had too many adult beverages while reading one of my erotica books or stories on Literotica. The images in my mind got me pretty damn horny. After an adrenaline rush for the anticipation of an orgasm not brought on by my own hand, plus the liquid courage of the wine, I would get up the nerve to say something.
'Heh Richard, sweetie, I'm not wearing any panties,' in my most seductive voice. 'I'm feeling turned on after reading the sex scenes in my book. They fucked in the shower. How hot is that? Let's go upstairs and recreate what they did!'
"M'kay, good night then," Dickless said, preoccupied watching a documentary on PBS. Other than standing complete naked in front of him, I knew I wouldn't get his attention.
My shoulders slumped. 'For fuck's sake Diana, in your drunken state did you truly believe the answer would be any different
this
time?' I thought to myself, exasperated at being turned down -- again.
Thinking back, even before the sex famine, I had to initiate any type of physical fun. Then it was 'meh' and unimaginative with, you've got it, guidelines. It was predictably in the bedroom with total darkness, no experimentation with varying positions, no adventures with toys or oral sex (god forbid!). Dismal Dick's idea of spicing things up was for me to be on top.
Anyway, when the stars aligned and we actually did have sex, it was all about him. He could get off (literally) after only about 10 minutes. Then he'd roll over and promptly fall asleep.
'WTF? Thanks Richard (you're a Dick all right, too bad you don't know how to use it),' I thought to myself as I snorted like Sandra Bullock in movie
Miss Congeniality.
What about me and my sexual desires?
Once again, feeling discouraged and unfilled, I grabbed some lube (I was barely aroused enough to even be slick) and my vibrator from the nightstand next to the bed. I've gotten used to the fact I can orgasm sooner and make it more intense by having some 'self-satisfaction' as I like to call it. Imagining someone licking my pussy makes me cum every time. Routine Richard is such a prude, he looked at me as though I had had one eye and fangs the few times I suggested he might enjoy kissing and tonguing me 'down there'.
How sad is it that I'm getting off by myself while Dick, the not-so lion-hearted, is snoring away next to me?
Intimacy and hot sex were currently alive only in my mind. Yet, a sense of emotional connection and desire was something I longed to have in my life. Having someone pleasure
me
for a change would be incredible. For three years now we've had separate bedrooms. A 'sleep divorce' as my friends call it. The only way to fulfill myself sexually was to make it on my own.
Let's face it, Dickface doesn't excite me either way anymore
.
He wants routine, I want spontaneity. What we once had, is now gone. At 55, my life is a bit more than half over, but one foot isn't in the grave, either.
***
Why did we marry in the first place? I guess because it was the 'thing to do'. After all, I was nearly 30 (gasp!). Maybe I was tired of my older relatives asking me when I was going to find a 'nice young man' and settle down. I dated before, but had a few bad experiences. Richard showed interest in me, and I was of course, flattered. Besides, when we married, my ideas about sex were pretty naïve. I thought it was my role as a wife (how I hate that word) to satisfy his needs before mine. How ass backward is that?
Being a middle child, I have been programmed to be the harmony maker and pleaser. Diana the kindhearted.
I'm not saying that Richard is an asshole, he just doesn't 'get it.' Believe me, if that were the case, I would have left him years ago. Yeah, I knew going into this marriage that he could be a dick, but I took it as my challenge to change that. What was I thinking?
Admittingly, we did have our good times together, especially when were first married, most likely because we spent more time outdoors. What happened to the adventures we used to have? We were gone every weekend: camping, exploring -- or even just going somewhere without planning, other than making sure the gas tank was full. Maybe adulting became too much of a priority.
We've obviously grown apart. Not only physically, but emotionally too. Even though we are in a room together, I feel lonely. What's worse, being alone, or feeling lonely with someone? As much as society will paint the picture of the perfect pair holding hands into their 80s, we just aren't one of the 'together forever and ever' or 'until death do us part' couples.
My friends call me a slow learner for staying in my lackluster marriage for so long. I'm sure my weekly bitch sessions over cocktails with my friends was becoming annoyingly repetitive. Perhaps I chose to stay because of guilt (thanks grandma, you instilled that!) or what others might think about me or Richard that is holding me back from making a change.
There
was
effort to get the excitement back, though. At my insistence, we tried marriage counselling -- three different occasions -- each saying that
this
time we'd discover the magic ingredient and have the perfect life. Nope! Here we are.
I guess they are right when they say the third time is the charm -- but in this instance, it's not to save our marriage, but for me to finally realize that the time is
now
for my
own
happiness and fulfillment. Dammit anyway, life was for living and experiencing -- not simply existing.
People might think I'm having a midlife crisis, but I see it as a
midlife realization
.
***
Confrontation is something I will avoid if possible. Maybe that's why it has taken me so long to make a move. But
someone
has to be truthful enough and be willing put an end the turmoil.
I spent the afternoon psyching myself up. Just do it, Diana. Stop wishing, start doing. If not now, when? What have I got to lose?
'Unfortunately, nothing,' I frowned. We've always had separate bank accounts, so no issues there. No huge assets to divide up. He could buy out half of the house. No kids, no dog; not even a goldfish to fight over.
All afternoon while Dickface was at work, I practiced what I would say.
I heard the garage door open, then close. Mr. Mundane was barely in the door when, with my heart pounding and my mouth dry, I blurted out in rapid fire, the way I do when I'm nervous, "Richard, you know things haven't been right between us for some time now. What do you think about spending some time apart? I'd be the one to leave," I said breathing a sigh of relief.
Expecting pushback, yelling, or even some tears, I was surprisingly met with, "sounds like a good idea, Diana. When do you want to move some stuff?" asked Richard the Dull, not looking up from today's mail that was neatly placed into the basket on the kitchen table.
I felt a twinge. A part of me was hoping there would be SOME sort of heightened response, anger or tears. There's the perpetual 'what if' and hope. But like our marriage, even our fights were bland. Why was I even surprised?
"Er, okay, well then, I'll make arrangements to leave in the morning," I said walking out of the room.
Dickwad seemed excessively drawn to this month's issue of
Consumer Reports
about the newest upgrades in rototillers. He didn't even acknowledge I left.
Well, fuck him! Both pissed at his non-reaction and thrilled for the possibilities, I texted Leigh, my sister and best friend, as soon as I got upstairs. She TOTALLY gets me, and has been my cheerleader when I complain or just need to vent.
Diana:
Guess what? He agreed to take a break. I'm moving out.
Leigh:
Holy Crap! Really? Good for you! (clap emoji)
Diana:
I surprised myself! It felt good to FINALLY say something.
Leigh:
How'd he take it? What did he say?
Diana:
Nothing of course. He's such a dick!
Diana:
