Essay: Know Yourself

My wife and I fell into the trap that so many other couples have: we were crazy about each other when we were dating and thought we could handle each others oddities. Before I'd even met my wife, married people had said "All of those cute habits that drew you to your spouse start getting really irritating and the bad traits don't get better."

We met as coworkers and the attraction was immediate. I was a new hire and she was my trainer. The other employees were not so eager to help with my questions, but I knew that she was a good person when she said, "A lot of people here wont help you but I will." She's hard working, funny, smart, and cute. We came from similar difficult family lives, both deal with mental illness and are giant nerds. Our politics couldn't be more different and the religion gap is an ocean. She loves dogs, I like cats. She's very extroverted and it takes an act of Congress for me to leave the house. We knew the challenges, but we respected each other. None of our parents had respected each other but had stayed married for decades.

One major similarity that we had was little to no sexual experience. I'd two previous rendezvous, neither of which were especially satisfying. I never had a girlfriend. She'd dated other guys but hadn't gone further with them than blowjobs. She wanted to, but the they had refused. Her previous guy before me and she were religious people and I'm sure that he wanted to stay pure.

Her family is religious, especially her mother. There has always been tension between she and I. I'm an atheist, and when she found out, she hung decorations that quoted scripture around the kitchen. My wife and her siblings went to a Lutheran high school, where their mom was a teacher. I was raised in a minimally Catholic home and both mom in law and wife blame that for my lack of belief. "Catholics are crazy," I'm told. Not any crazier than a family that has had their house cleansed for demons by a minister as many times as they have, thank you.

I think that the idea that women raised in religious homes are more eager for sex is only partly true. My then girlfriend was the one that initiated our first time together, nervously whispering "I really want to fuck you," as we watched a movie in my bed. As we got undressed, I asked if she wanted to be on top or bottom. Since she was about to lose her virginity, I thought she should have the choice. Her voice was still trembling as she said that she didn't care. I suggested that she be on top, so that she could control the speed and depth. She looked surprised for a moment; she had never thought of that.

She straddled me as I lay on my back but hadn't put me inside her. She kept her pussy just over my bare cock, not moving. She had a thoughtful look on her face and I said it was ok if she had changed her mind. She shook her head, saying that she just couldn't believe that it was actually about to happen. I let her take her time, and eventually she slowly put my shaft inside her. She hung over me for a moment, obviously sizing up the situation. I smiled at her and said, "Congratulations, you aren't a virgin anymore."

She laughed a little and slowly started rocking her hips. Telling that she should be on top wasn't purely altruistic. I loved seeing her body, all of it. She has a belly, but still has a very clear hourglass figure. I loved the way her hips curved so widely especially after feeling the narrowness of her waist. Running my hands higher up her side, her big breasts gently brushed against my arm. Her face was hidden in a shadow behind her long blond hair, making her expression a mystery to me. I was watching a woman discover herself and knew she had potential.

She was less certain. I brushed her hair away and she looked concerned. I gently told her to stop and she abruptly stopped moving. I told her to stop and sit back. She sat up and put the full pressure of her weight on my cock, which was some nice extra tightness for me. "Breathe," I told her. "Relax. It's just sex. Do what feels good for you. It's your first time, be selfish."

Her face lit up when I told her that. It was a gratifying feeling, knowing I had hit the switch inside her to make her have the best sex possible, considering it was her first time. Smiling at her, I said, "Don't worry about me, I'm already having fun." Her face went to happy surprise and she grinned, looking pleased with herself. She leaned back over me, her tits hanging in front of my face. I held one and sucked on the nipple and she moaned, almost silently. I ran my hands up and down the sides of her body, loving that the path was far from a straight line.

She started moving her hips faster, her breasts brushing against my chest. Looking down at our joined genitals, I loved that I was deep inside her and that her nude, secretive spot rubbed against me.

"I'm going to cum," she moaned, her head tilted up to the ceiling. "Do it, baby," I told her. She dropped down on top of me, rubbing her body against mine. She shuddered, letting out very satisfying gasps. Her hair was covering her face again, so after enjoying the mystery for a moment, I toot it aside and saw her mind lost in her first orgasm. She had never cum before. She didn't masturbate and had never gotten oral. I was the one that did that to her, that made her shiver and shake. So much for a person's first time being so terrible.

In the weeks and months afterward, she loved sex. As soon as the rest of the house went to bed, she'd smile at me, wiggle out of her clothes and walk to the living room at the other end of the house. We wouldn't wake anyone up, and it was almost like fucking in public. The room contained Dad's treadmill, so we started calling it "the exercise room." I learned that she could only cum when she was on top, and I could usually only finish when I was the top. While she didn't cum when I grinded against her, she would lose control of herself and gasp and groan when I pushed my dick as far inside her as I could.

Our Christmas fuck is my favorite sexual memory. At her parents place one Christmas Eve, we wanted to sneak off and get some privacy. We went to her bedroom, but found her younger sister playing a game at her desk. She tried to get her sister to leave, who stubbornly refused to acknowledge her. Completely frustrated, we got in her car and drove almost a half hour to Dad's place to use the exercise room. I put her on the couch and drove into her, needing to fuck instead of make love. I came hard inside her, grunting and groaning as I spewed cum all over her insides. After catching our breath, she got up to use the bathroom and had to catch herself on a chair as she tried to walk. I asked if she was ok, and she said she was just sore, in a good way. That was the first time I fucked her so well that she couldn't walk.

I was a lucky man. She was interesting to talk to, even if we had totally different views. Having different life experiences was a good thing, as it was eye opening. It was refreshing to have someone to talk to about my comic books. I never thought I could do that, because in my day talking about comic books was a social death wish. Yes, she was also a fantastic sexual partner, one that I thought I could have fun with with for years.

We got married a few years ago. We were thrilled when we got engaged, while our parents reactions ranged from resignation to indifference. Getting away from our immediate families was a huge motivator, which is one reason we were eager to get married and move into our first apartment. My hopes were high for a fuck fest now that we were alone. It was far from happening.

She had never spent significant time away from her family, except for a brief time in college. She had to leave behind her dog behind, despite her family insisting that it was the family dog. Her dog is a huge stabilizing influence in her life, almost an emotional support animal. I never liked the shaggy, smelly thing but I tried to be supportive anyway. Most of the time anyway. Sometimes my annoyance about the dog was impossible to hide.

She had developed zero interest in sex and spent the next month crying in bed, missing her dog. It was a shocking kick in the gut. She didn't want to sleep with me...because of the dog. Dogs were not allowed by the landlord, so getting a new one wasn't possible. Our sex routine dwindled to once a month, and we were a month away from getting married. She said she missed the dog and was stressed by the bills and by planning the wedding. I wanted to help and asked for a responsibility in the wedding planning, to take the pressure off of her. She refused the idea. I tried to romance her with flowers and "cooking," but nothing remotely sparked interest.

This continued after the wedding. We didn't have sex on our wedding night, which we were both fine with to be honest. Her depression continued. The wedding was behind us but she still missed her dog and had to pay bills. When I talked to her about it, she said the stress of living on our own killed her sex drive.

This was all going wrong. She didn't want what I wanted and she wanted what I didn't miss. She spent a lot of time with her family, sometimes gone for hours. Granted our apartment was about a half hour from her parents home (they live in a country town, which is a half hour away from everywhere) but she would still be gone for hours after I went to bed. At times it felt like she'd rather be with them in her former home than with me, in the home we were creating. She always said I could come with her, which at times I did. Frankly I'd preferred staying in the apartment, and away from their political and religious bullshit. Besides, hadn't she been eager to get away from home?

I started getting resentful. It felt like we had quickly gone from husband and wife to roommates. I regretted all of the times in college that I had had the opportunity to sleep with one girl or another but passed it up. I had many issues of my own. I was afraid of catching an STD, of getting someone pregnant, lack of trust, self esteem problems and even religious belief held me back. Even me, the vile atheist, had once tried to be a good Catholic and abstain from premarital sex. I had tried therapy and medication for my depression and while both helped, I wanted to see if I could do better. Going to Mass did nothing for me and I just couldn't feel the same way about God and His love as those in campus religious groups. All of it had changed in a few years, after it just made so much more sense that things happened for reasons that had noting to do with God. By that time, I was out of college and the amount of horny coeds dropped pretty badly. Still, I wasn't worried. One day I'd get married and sex wouldn't be a problem.

A few months after we got married, the political environment of the nation changed dramatically. Politics had been an issue between us but this almost became a battle. I wondered what kind of person I had married to not just have ideas that I disagreed with but who took the most extreme version of them. People got hurt and she laughed. Ridiculous conspiracies were defended wholeheartedly. I didn't understand how someone that claimed to follow religion so closely could also be so dehumanizing to other people.

Our sex life was over. The days of screwing once per month sounded like a blessing, and it made me wonder if we had ever fucked as frequently as I thought we had. She accused me of only thinking about sex and only caring about her body. I told her she did nothing but play video games and spend time with her parents. When I actually did get her to fuck me, she did it with resentment in her eyes. She reused to get on top of me, saying it made her hips hurt. That may be true but I doubt it's the only reason. For me, being inside her felt depressing. The excitement of fucking her was gone, replaced by knowing that the next time I was inside her would be months away.

One night I convinced her to have sex and she talked about the dog the whole time. We had gotten a dog of our own, which stared at us as I pumped my wife. She talked to the fucking mutt the whole time, telling me to look at the face he was making. It tried to jump on the bed and I repeatedly kicked it off. (Getting my balls licked by a dog while fucking doesn't do it for me.) Exasperated, I finished to get it over with and went to clean up. When I got back, she was playing with the dog and ignoring me, as if we had not just had sex. For her, the act was finished and she had shut me up, so there was no need to dwell on it. I went to bed resentful and she couldn't understand why.

Again, some unknown time later that was probably months apart, I was talking to her about our sex life and she replied with, "I'd be happy to never have sex again but I know it would kill you." I didn't know how else to see it but as spiteful thing to say. She was completely indifferent to what I wanted and needed and didn't care if I knew it. She said that there are more important things than sex, and she had tried to show me intimacy by cooking and spending time with me. I tried to explain that I was grateful for that, but it didn't make up for my hunger for her. She just didn't understand.

How had my orgasmic, assertive girl come to hate sex? She said that when she saw and attractive person, she was impressed by the biomechanics of how the human body works. Personally, when I see a woman in a tight shirt and tight pants painted onto a bubble ass, I wonder what her o-face looks like.

All of this was made worse when other women flirted with me. I'm a good looking guy, a little chunky but no one calls me fat. I'm tall with broad shoulders, a beard, and black hair that people cant believe is on a white guy. While in training for a new job, I was seated in a room with two other women, who were friends. One of them playfully kicked my chair repeatedly during class and grinned at me when I turned around. Another time, while the room was silent she sat next to me and rubbed her foot up and down my leg under the table.

I'm not sure what she expected. She knew I was married, my wife worked in the office and visited me on break. She had a boyfriend, so what was I supposed to do? Did she want me to take her to the bathroom, throw her against the wall and fuck her raw? Was I supposed to have brought condoms, or had she brought her own in preparation? Was I supposed to drop her pants to the floor so she could left a leg, letting me penetrate deep inside her? Would she pull off her shirt so that I could play with her fat titties that bulged above her bra in the classroom? Did she want me to pull out at the last moment to spray her with my cum, or to leave it inside her and claim her body? Either way, the biology of the deed would be obvious when we went back to training. Wipe away my seed all you want, it is thick and plentiful and potent. I'm sure that impregnation would be easy for me. My wife hates it. She is disgusted by it's strong smell and the amount that can still trickle out of her pussy the next day.

Maybe I should have been friendlier to the girl at the convenience store. I would go there on my breaks to get snacks and since the regular check out lane was usually busy, I would go to pay at the makeup counter. We always made polite small talk, nothing remotely flirtatious. She was young, even younger than my wife. Probably in her mid twenties at the oldest. She still had the look of a young woman, somehow obviously innocent but no longer a child. While approaching her counter one day, she watched me walk to her, twisting her long brown hair with both hands and a look of nervous anticipation on her face. I knew exactly what was about to happen.

We gave the usual pleasantries and she tried to casually ask if I was doing anything special for Christmas. I gently told her that I would be spending the holiday with my in-laws. She nodded and then gestured with a shaky hand to some makeup items on the counter. She said that there was a holiday sale on a makeup package and wondered if I had a sister that would like it...or maybe someone else. Talking quietly, I said that my wife isn't the kind of person to wear makeup. She tossed my purchase to me and said to have a nice Christmas.

I could be fucking other women. It's not like I have movie star good looks but the opportunity is there. It's my damn conscience that gets in the way. I don't believe in cheating, it's juvenile and beneath me. It is something that a teenager or a man-child would do. My father in law cheated on my mother in law (twice that he admits to) and it devastated the family. I wouldn't put my wife through that no matter what happens between us...but I could still be fucking other women.

She finally explained to me one night why she never wanted to fuck me. She didn't feel lust or sexual desire. She found Ryan Reynolds to be painfully handsome but had zero interest in fucking him. It is the same with me. She still finds me attractive but sees nothing sexual about me. We lay in bed one night and she told me, very bluntly, that she is asexual. I was a little insulted. She has shown zero sympathy for gays in the past and still uses the word "fag." I've told her it is just as offensive a word as the n word, but she disagrees. She knows I support the gay community and my first thought was that she was lying and preying on my sympathy.

It didn't make sense. The woman I knew loved sex after she had it but now, all of a sudden, she had a totally different sexual orientation. I had heard of fluid sexuality but what were the odds that this was the case? I ignored the idea, it was just too stupid. We didn't talk about it for an eternity. I teased her occasionally, to test her response. It was the wrong thing to do, but it seemed unbelievable that she was an ace. She had given other reasons why her libido had died: stress, self consciousness about her weight, loneliness and resentment towards me for thinking it is so important. Supposedly being asexual was, to me, just another excuse.

We eventually did couples counseling. I was thrilled and thought we'd finally be able to talk about our issues with an unbiased third party. She had talked about our problems frequently but unfortunately it was with her coworkers and mother. Her mother is her other best friend, and her advice to her was, "Men just need to get over sex." I'm sorry but I am still a young man and I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a sexless marriage.

Couple's therapy lasted for a few months (including the few weeks that my wife wanted to "take time off" from therapy) before she gave up. She hated our therapist and thought she wasn't sympathetic to her. She had suggested that my wife see a therapist of her own, as she has plenty of anger issues that were interfering with our sessions. I had been seeing a psychologist for over a year and it had helped me, so I supported the idea. She was furious after our last session, saying that the doctor didn't listen to her. She has seen therapists since she was twelve years old and they have done nothing. I spoke with the therapist privately the next day and neither of us were optimistic that she would face her anger issues. That was the last time I spoke with the doctor, but my wife and I said we would find someone else that she was more comfortable with. It hasn't happened.

My personal therapist has made it clear to me, without coming out and saying it, that I need to leave my marriage. My wife will not change because she has no reason to. She had been able to browbeat me because of my low self esteem but since I had begun to develop a voice of my own, she had become defensive.

I've come to accept that my wife is asexual. I talked to her about it more sympathetically and she seemed to appreciate it. She and her mother have both said that her brother, who has Asperger syndrome, is also asexual. (Interestingly, I saw an article that claimed to find that people on the autism spectrum were more likely to be asexual. It did open my mind a little to what they were saying.) I don't know how or why, but something in her mom's side of the family seems likely to make their family members LGBTQ or be transsexual. My wife and brother in law are both asexual and her cousin came out as bisexual. Then she was revealed to be gender fluid. Now they think she may be going through gender reassignment. (The two sides of that family don't talk to each other outside of Facebook. My in laws are incredibly derisive towards their niece and cousin. My wife has called her an idiot and that she doesn't care about her. I told her that was ironic, since being asexual also made her as queer as her cousin. She had nothing to say and rolled over in bed.) Most interestingly, my mother in law admitted that she dated women in college. She stopped doing it when she decided that being with women because "it's easier" was a cop out.