Honesty, Part Deux

You may want to by-pass this post.  It is shameful and graphic.

But, it's honest.

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Sex?

Honestly, I never cared for it.  

If I told any of my girlfriends that now, they'd all laugh.  They thought that I was the sexy one in the group.  Not so!  It was a means to an end.

My husband and I dated all through high school,  We didn't engage in sex until two months before I graduated.  The ever spoken "prove you love me" statement from him was finally going to be quelled. Thank goodness, we waited until then, because I got pregnant the first time.  We didn't have sex again until we were married two months later.

Neither one of us knew what we were supposed to do.  I had to ask my best friend what I was supposed to do with my legs.  I had no brothers.  I had never seen a naked male  Fumbling along we went and figured it out. I think.  How would I know?

"Nice" women weren't expected to get too involved.  As my best friend told me, "You just let him do whatever he wants.  It won't take long." The "Missionary Position" was all there was, or so we thought.

Don't get me wrong.  I loved the kissing and petting and all the fore play, but the actual sexual intercourse?  

Honestly?  

Messy, clumsy, having to lay in the cold, wet spot afterward, while he moved over to his side and went quickly to sleep.  Whenever he wanted it.  It didn't matter if I was nine months pregnant, or just home from the hospital with 40 stitches outside and inside from where the 4 days old  NINE POUND BABY had recently exited.  I couldn't say "no", because we all knew that if a man waited too long, all that sperm can build up and back up and cause him terrible problems.  His testicles might go blue  and drop off or something equally terrible.  We wives had to prevent that!!

Later--if I wanted to see my grocery allowance on the dresser on Saturday morning, I'd better be "nice" on Friday night.  If we were camping and the three kids were only a mere five feet away and hopefully sleeping, there was always a "Mom, what is that?"  "Go back to sleep Honey.  It's just the wind blowing and making the trailer rock."

When I got divorced, I was still pretty naive about the physical part of a relationship.  If the guy I was dating wanted to have sex, and of course they all did, I thought that meant he had fallen in love with me.  Good Grief!  There I was in the mid-80's, still with 1950ish standards in my head.

What I found out fairly quickly was--sex is quite the same no matter what man I was with.  (Now you one-man women know--you won't have to wonder.)

Oh sure, different styles, positions, shapes and sizes, but the end result is a man going quite out of his mind, pumping and making noises like he is having a heart attack, then a heavy, dead sort of weight, then a parting and a loud snore.  If I was lucky, a sweet kiss before the parting and snoring part.

They think they are the best lovers.  The biggest studs on this earth.  HAH!  One man told me, "I have never left a woman unsatisfied!"  When we broke up, 5 months later, I so wanted to tell him he was wrong.  Of course, it would have been my fault because--he was so supreme in his thinking.

I don't think I have ever had a climax.  At least not like they are described in medical books.  BUT--instead of medical books, my book shelves should be lined with golden awards and trophies for Best Actress of the Year.  

I suppose I used them as much as they used me?  I used to keep a little "black book" with names, birthdays, phone numbers and statistics written down.  A little red check mark was written in if the man told me I was the best sexual partner he had ever had.  I think at one time or another, they all said, "I can tell if a woman is faking it."  Yeah--sure you can.  Men are soooooooooooo dense.

One interesting request did not come from a man--well not directly that is.  When I was divorced, a friend asked me if I would please have an affair with her husband.  In his late forties, he was experiencing a bit of sexual dysfunction and was "constantly after me!"  She stated flat out that she thought I could "help him" and keep him away from her for awhile.  Who better to ask than your friend?  Right?  She knew her husband and I would not take it seriously and it would be a big relief to her.

She had no way of knowing that over the years, he had suggested the very same thing, more times than I wanted to remember.  Usually when he was drunk, but a couple of times, he was very serious.  

I declined her offer!!!

I was this really confused woman, looking for love in all the wrong places!!!  IF I could just find a man that loved me, it would prove my father's hurtful words wrong.  I was worth-while.  

IF I could just find a man to love me, it would prove my ex-husband wrong.  A man that loved me would want to be with ME, not out every night, playing golf, betting on the ponies, getting drunk.

No matter how old we get or how normal we appear to the outside, the hurt little child we once were, remains in our heart, souls and minds for a very long time.  It flows into each aspect of our life.  Doesn't it?  It can come from a critical father, or a judgmental, cold mother, but it is there.

Now, these weren't one-night stands.  Each relationship lasted 3 to 9 months.  All the men were good men, none of them drank, none of them abused me, at least not physically.  Some of them were executives, some of them were regular working men with not a lot of money.  Some of them extremely intelligent, some dumb as a box of rocks.  I had a great need to help them in whatever way I could.  I had to be the most wonderful, non-critical, reasonable, most undemanding woman they had ever met.  Sex was a means to an end.  It made them feel good.
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Never in my own home, however.  I didn't want my teenage daughter becoming confused with all the "uncles" coming to spend the night.

One day, after a particularly hurtful end to a 9 month relationship, I looked in my bathroom mirror that next morning and said, "You are nothing but a whore!"  and stopped dating all together--at least for a year.  I liked my life.  I felt clean and pure and almost--virginal once again.

I asked God to forgive me of being so sinful.  I was like the prostitute that Jesus forgave and said, "Go and sin no more."  I would sin no more.
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About a year later, I had been divorced for 8 years by this time. I met a really wonderful man.  A few years older than me, very intelligent, not much money.  

He was so nice when we were dating.  He would do anything for me and did.  He didn't seem to want a sexual relationship, "until we get to know each other better."

We had a snow storm one day while I was at work and he drove 25 miles, into the parking lot, cleaned all the snow off my car just minutes before I walked out of work.  We had a picnic-date in a park and up drove a Florist delivery van and the delivery guy came walking over to where we were and gave me a dozen red roses.  "This are from him" and the guy pointed to my date.

Swept off my feet!  He wanted us to live together--no, not live together, but be married.  We had to be married to prove to the world that we were serious and in love.  My youngest child was leaving for college in a few months.  I would be all alone, in that big farm house, way out in the boon-docks.  Why not?

Sure.  Indeed.  Why not ruin your life with a decision made out of fear?

The wedding was lovely.  The open house for us was lovely.  We drove away in MY car which my kids had decorated.  Hours later, when we got to the lovely hotel, overlooking the lovely Mackinaw Bridge and the lovely Lake Huron and Lake Michigan, he beat the crap outta me.   Three days later, even farther from home, he took MY car and left me alone in a motel room for 18 hours.

He demanded sex every single day.  It didn't matter if he had beaten me during that day, I was to put all that aside and ante up.  Usually I just laid there and thought of something else, which he didn't mind at all.  In fact, that really turned him on.  He liked it that way.  He felt so in control.  There is no such thing as rape in a marriage.

Honestly?  He told me he'd kill me if I ever left and the night I left, he running down the driveway, along side the car, begging me to come back.  Honestly?  When I turned onto the road, if he had stepped in front of my car, I would have gladly run over him and kept on going.  I have never before or since in my life, felt such hatred for another human being.  I check the newspaper obits in the county he lives in, each and every day.  Honestly?  Hoping to see his name.  He is now 85 and still going strong.
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Can you see how wonderful I felt when I met Fred and on our third date, he had a serious talk with me and told me he was incapable of having sex.  His Diabetes had rendered him completely and totally impotent.  I remember telling him that I hadn't had any sex drive in years and years and none of that mattered to me.

The best and most romantic relationship I ever had in my entire life.  We kissed a lot, and touched and slept spooned together every night and were intimate in more ways than I ever thought---without sex of any kind.  Emotionally intimate.  I was closer to him than any other male I have EVER known.

I didn't have to "put out" to get love.  I didn't have to be "nice" to get grocery money.

If this man couldn't have sex and he still loved me and wanted to be with me forever--than he must REALLY love me, in the truest sense of the word.
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Honestly?  Maybe I am a Lesbian?