So much has happened I don’t know where to start. Well I do know where to start. I’ll start with the racy stuff to keep you entertained, because this will boil down to emotional turmoil and you know it.
Wonderboy came unannounced on my face. He had not been able to come or to have sex with me the whole week and didn’t come from fucking me. I made the mistake of stating do whatever you want. He did at that. When we tried this the last time, and for the first time, I only enjoyed it. I even wrote about how it didn’t feel degrading to me at all.
Well it did now! I wasn’t at all prepared for it. My eyes were open and really, I just wasn’t expecting it. I felt… desecrated. I got hurt. The stuff was all over my face, my left eye was positively glued shut and it was also in my hair. I just leapt to the bathroom to try to save my eye. I know from my friend’s experiences that not only does that shit hurt, when it hits the eye, it can also lead to an eye infection.
I felt he had walked all over my just to get to his desired end point. I felt that coming on to my face was not in our prenegotiated blanket consent. I really do need for him to ask. So, I addressed it. I said he has to say it out loud. He can say Now I’m gonna come on you’re face you filthy little whore, if that’s the way he likes to play it, but he cannot surprise me with it ever again.
I feel I’ve been too flexible, when he’s been down. I’ve done everything and agreed to anything just to make him happy. (Come.) I really didn’t want him coming on my face. I was already kind of fragile, because things had been so off between us and I still hadn’t forgiven the masturbation incident. I still felt sort of rejected and brushed aside, because he hadn’t trusted in me in such fundamental things. And then he did the stupidest thing he could’ve. Exactly what all degrading porn ends with.
My emotional reaction to the thought was to feel utterly replacable and put in a role I didn’t want to be in. I’m not your sex-crazy nympho dream girl! I deserve to be treated as equal. I deserve to choose.
He was sorry for it, but didn’t quite address the fact. He just brushed the situation aside by promising to state his intentions ahead of time. I really got no emotional cuddling. I was a bit upset and also angry. I hadn’t come although he thought I had. He had rushed me to an orgasm so that it was ruined, because he wanted to get to his. So I said, I’m gonna go play in the other room. Good night.
He didn’t say anything. He must have noticed how hostile the situation was in many ways, that something was wrong, but he did nothing. I haven’t asked his permission for masturbating after the incident. I did I think once, but it just didn’t feel right. I felt. I don’t know. I just couldn’t trust him. I didn’t want to give him the information about me. I didn’t trust him with my pleasure in any way. He made this comment when we were trying to settle the masturbation issue of his that I’m not the one masturbating all the time. It sunk in my stomach. It was so unfair to bring up. It was a low blow for sure and I’m not used to that kind of thing from him. I said so too, immediately, but it doesn’t change the fact that it hurt me and that now he has to deal with the consequences. I also told him that I have never rejected him and then went on to masturbate, and that I would like to only have sex with him, if he only could.
So he doesn’t know that I’ve been horny as hell. I mean it. I’ve had to rub myself senseless twice a day and sometimes I’ve still had sex with him after that. This is the way I used to be. I haven’t been for a while, but this makes me think these hormones are doing something right, when they’re putting me back on my old normal state that has changed with the hard things we’d had to go through.
This wasn’t the end of it. He’s been so down – I mean he’s probably actually clinically depressed, but what can I do about it? – that I decided to surprise him. I made him an abundant snack kind of a thing with many cool things and put it in this old army lunch box we happened to have. I tried to give it to him in the morning, but his answer was I’m just about to run to work. I’m not gonna take that with me. I tried to explain what it was, but he just left and also left me in the hallway completely naked holding the fucking lunch box.
I cried a bit and then I put it aside. I realized what was wrong. What had been wrong in the masturbation incident, in the coming on my face and in many small discussions and situations that had went awry in the last month. He didn’t trust me. He didn’t trust me enough to ask me or talk about it with me. And he didn’t trust me enough to take the lunch box.
Later when we discussed it in bed, finally, after a grueling long day and drive home, he put it in words. He just couldn’t face being seen running with a box like that. He said he had cried in the car, when he found out what the box was about. But he had known it would be something nice. He just couldn’t face carrying the box. He would rather hurt my feelings and cause himself distress in other ways. Because he couldn’t.
I’ve known since the day we met that Wonderboy suffers from social anxiety. He’s been clinically depressed for over 10 years, had no friends, no contact with the outside world. So I know. I take it into consideration every time we go out or I plan something. But somehow. Somewhere. He started keeping it a secret from me. He started covering up the whys of it. And now he had to come clean, because I said,
That is too neurotic. You need help. I can’t help you anymore. It’s not right for you to hurt my feelings over and over again just because you can’t do any better.
The same words he said to me not so long ago, but ages ago, when I “decided” to try to find a therapist.
His answer was surprising. I’ve been thinking the same thing. I think it’s going worse.
He said many things to me that night that were hard to bare. He said he was not completely unhappy, which brought back memories of my ex, who said he could probably never be happy. He did correct his words later and said he was happy with me, but those kind of things stick. He has made me feel like he is not happy with me. He has hurt my feelings just because there is no one else. He says he was protecting me, because there was so much stuff going on, and yeah, I get it, but it’s not like he can keep a secret. It’s not like I didn’t already know and try to cope with it. It’s just that we couldn’t discuss it, because he didn’t trust me enough to tell me.
I made him promise he was going to call a doctor and find a therapist. He said that he saw really no other way out. That he had tried, if this happiness with me would be enough and seen that it wasn’t. But he didn’t make any plans. Next week, he said. I said okay.
Today he accused me of not being there for him, because I said that it is his fault that he hurts my feelings. The conversation started when he said he had woken up at 2 am and that he was in no shape to fuck me when he got home. This is the day of ovulation. This knowledge had huge impact. It’s not only our sex life now, it’s also our dreams of having a baby that are going down the drain. He managed to fuck me wednesday, when I told him you don’t have to fuck, it’s enough if you just come inside me. In any way possible. It was a good game and made me seriously hot, thank god for being kinky!
Somehow still though he thought that he hand’t done anything and was comparing this situation to what we had before, but with me on the spot. I answered him in detail. I let him know, how long I’ve been biding my time, trying to help him cope without letting him know about it, how I’ve been suffering because of what he’s going through, but since he wasn’t ready to deal I could do nothing. And then I said it. Are you even serious about trying for a baby? Is there any point in me suffering from these hormones, if you won’t do your share? Is this a shit idea and should we just stop trying?
When I wrote it I actually thought that it might be better. If he’s so tangled up in his emotions. If he’s so hard to reach and make happy. Maybe he should gon inton therapy before we do anything else. I can’t handle having a baby with a man like this.
Wonderboy didn’t answer. Since I’ve been working on my emotional container I didn’t freak immediately. I waited, tried to do some work and was planning on going to the gym.
And then he sent me a text message. You know what was in it?
Okay then. I made a doctors appointment for monday. That’s a start.
I said I was proud of him. And I was. when he came home we hugged and kissed a little and now he’s already asleep. We didn’t fuck. Sometimes there are things that are more important.