Not This Year, Darling
Is your sexless marriage getting you down? Can’t remember the last time you two did the wild thing?
Or are you one of the silent-but-angry few who is beyond this point and curse each frustratingly difficult day that passes?
BOOM – you’re my audience!
If this nasty, unwelcome routine has taken root in your bed, please read further.
I’m not going to go into why a marriage becomes sexless. There are plenty of other web-pages for that kind of info. They list possible causes, offer solutions and, with application, readers go away loaded with new knowledge that’ll fix the breakages and take their marriages to happy ever after land.
My page is rare. It’s for those who’ve exhausted their quota of fairy tales. (Bookmark it if you still embrace hope. You may be back later.)
For those of us who’ve tried counseling, books, sites and the like, we’ve come to a different understanding. Our marriages remain as sexless they ever were.
It affirms what we already knew. A horse can be led to water but not made to drink it. Thirst can’t be forced.
A make or break moment is what’s needed if a marriage is going to move forward. Almost everyone in this situation agrees with this outcome as too the concept of monogamy.
Monogamy. Now there’s a word couples recognize well.
I won’t beat around the bush with this next statement: If you’re in a sexless marriage, you’re not monogamous. The rule of monogamy has been broken and it wasn’t you who broke it.
Perhaps you’d like to read that last paragraph again. This time read it aloud and do it slowly.
Yes, that’s right, this is where you really stand. You may not be cheating on your spouse but you’re not in a monogamous relationship with them either. You were outside-the-loop long before you knew the loop had an outside!
Now you’re coming up to speed, here’s another truth or two: You’re also in a celibate marriage. You could say you weren’t consulted to participate in one nor approve of it if you were asked to do so – but here you find yourself anyway.
What happens next?
I wrote a book based on my own sexless marriage. In it I tried to answer that question with fervor and honesty. Just what happens after you find yourself standing alone in your marriage?
How do you cope? What do you feel? Why the hell did this happen?
I articulated the best and worst of emotions encountered over these ten years of so-called wedded bliss and put it into a text, a novel actually.
It’s not easy to reveal the inner-workings of a sexless marriage while it’s underway so I called it fiction. (My spouse would not approve at all.)
Admitting failure. That’s where I started. Once this happened I was free to explore and start over. So I did. I explored and made discoveries the likes of which you’d never believe.
By the time I finished writing the novel, I’d changed my thoughts about life, love, sex and marriage.
I understood I married a wonderful, sensible person who had all the core qualities I admired in a partner. Almost everything was perfect but, for her, physical intimacy has no priority whatsoever. It’s something I never knew about her beforehand. She didn’t know either.
My side of the story differs. Without sex, I feel incomplete and can’t function properly. This is something I didn’t know when we married, nor did she.
Much of our future was assumed. It followed us all the way down the aisle and then into the bedroom.
We married each other in good-conscience but we are different people when it comes to sex. Nothing changes this. God knows, we’ve tried changing!
We now have a fantastic life together. As long as we don’t go there, we’re perfectly okay.
She’s asexual. That’s the deal. I’m not asexual but we’re happiest when she’s satisfied. She’s satisfied not having sex and not talking about it.
I wrote a novel about all that’s unsaid.
There’s much, trust me.