I don't think I'd be alone if I admitted that a recurring theme of my married sex life is that he wants it more often than I do. I feel really badly about that sometimes. So badly that my brain recently embarked on a whole alternate life for my husband and I. This is how my brain works. It just jumps a slow-moving box-car and follows it to the end of the line.
I just started thinking how awesome it would be for my husband if he could get laid whenever he wanted to, instead of waiting for all of my stars to line up. I'm not going to open up the marriage for him. Emotions would be involved, I'd be jealous. I just know it's too messy for me. So then I thought, "Oh my god, if you love something, set it free." If Sting is right (like he usually is), maybe I actually need to divorce my husband so that he can find true happiness. Imagine how amazing it will be for him to find some lusty girlfriend. It will be a whole new lease on life. For that matter, I'll eventually meet someone as well and that affair will be unbelievable! All the nerves and the newness and the endorphin rushes. I started to get really happy for the alternate versions of my husband and I.
Then it hit me: to have our post marriage affairs we are going to have to date. THAT'S gonna be a LOT of work. My post-baby body is a bit wrecked and not the same one that I might have gleefully unwrapped for boyfriends in the past. And how often am I really going to go out, anyway? Me, who still has never hired a sitter? And who is going to be good enough to introduce to the kids? Ok, enough about me. I complicate everything. Let's think about that "Ex" husband of mine out there living it up. It's good for him, still, right? Maybe. But then again, he might actually have to go to the gym a couple of times to bolster his ego. He'll have to wine and dine some chick and pretend to be interested in her interests and maybe meet her family...
Pump the brakes! This is a disaster! This is a tremendous amount of effort to produce the short-lived high of a new sex partner. Let's skip the middle man (divorce) and just put in half the effort. I'll get off my ass and figure out how to get a sitter so that I can use my energy dating the father of my children. And he can wine and dine me every once in a while to get a little extra sex. Now we're talking! Half the effort; no moving out. And we'll strike a compromise. He may not get it as often as he dreams, I may not be swept off my feet all the time, but we'll have a, what's the word? Oh, a marriage.
There you have it. This box car has reached the end of the line and sorry, Sting, I'm not setting anybody free. But now the onus is on me to really put in some effort so that I can live in the realm between divorce fantasies and divorce realities and just be really happy with the man I chose for forever.
