Because of the way we sex bloggers write our titillating tales, it’s easy to think we have mind-blowing sex every single time we get naked. I wish that were true, but it’s not. We’re human and there are days we don’t feel sexy; times we can’t seem to get on the same page as our partners. There are also those unflattering moments when sex goes wrong, such as butt plugs that play hide-and-seek and accidental scat during anal play in the most awkward way. But fuck-ups are to be expected, right? Of course they are, and a lot of us write about the less than sexy blunders, using our platforms as a way to process and share. What happens, though, when our sex lives slow down or stall altogether?
That’s what I’m in the throes of figuring out for myself.
My relationship with Mr. K isn’t strong as it once was. In fact, we’re flailing wildly out of control. Murky waters have clogged our lines of communication, leaving us sexless and adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Will we survive the breakdown? That’s a question I can’t yet answer. Truthfully, I’m not certain of anything right now. I’ve often said I was his fantasy come to life and I was proud of it. In light of certain things, I can’t help but wonder if that’s what he fell in love with– the fantasy of me.
I stumbled through the stages of grief as I watched the slow death of one of the most significant relationships of my life. I’ve cried until my face resembled something only my mother could love. Well, a face she would love if she wasn’t so superficial and shallow. *ahem* At this point, I’m all cried out.
Eventually, I moved on to the vast land of denial where I lost patience along with my Best Girlfriend Ever crown. Let’s be realistic about that title for a moment here– it’s a super-tough title to maintain. Especially when disappointment knocked the breath out of me again and again, metaphorically speaking, of course. And each time he failed me, I trusted him less; raised my protective walls a little higher until I soon found myself on full guard and wicked pissed. I knew I wanted more; deserved better, so I opened the floodgates that once shielded Mr. K from my feelings. I’m pretty sure he’s drowned in them by now and I’m okay with that.
The emotional bloodletting has left me drained, and because my feelings often taste like cupcakes, I’m also feeling a little fluffy. Honestly, some days I feel like a denim sausage. Others, I’ve resorted to wearing sweatpants, Ugg boots, and a messy bun. Oh, and a wifebeater with coffee stains, because nothing says “I’m fuckable” like food-covered clothing. But I’m not fuckable. I don’t look fuckable and I damn sure don’t feel fuckable. My sexual confidence that blossomed so beautifully as my marriage crumbled is now withered and in need of tending. Hell, other than to take the edge off so I can sleep every now and then, I hardly even have the desire to masturbate anymore, and that makes me so very sad.
So…many…feels…
The crux of it all is that I’m a sex blogger who’s not having sex, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with that. It’s kind of like an oxymoron, right? Or maybe even a little hypocritical? I don’t know, but it feels awfully weird. Then I have to wonder if I’m even allowed to call myself a sex blogger if my vagina has no antics to share. Heh. See what I did there? A big part of me is terrified of the changes I’m facing. Another part of me is a big believer that everything happens for a reason, like the bad haircut that’s forcing me to change my style. It’s true, y’all. The 80s will no longer rock on through my big hair, and yes, that made sense.
I’ve done a lot of soul searching over the last three or so months, and there’s no denying there are some big changes over the horizon. Personally, I was so sure I’d found the second great love of my life, and now, well, I don’t trust him with my heart. Professionally, the thought of turning another corner scares the bejeezus out of me, but I know my purpose is there, waiting for me to ride it hard. And once my palms stop sweating, I’ll take a deep breath and step into the next chapter of my life filled with new projects, new experiences, new Vagina Antics.
*Photo credit DepositPhotos.com
Ok first of all (((HUGS)))
Second of all, you’re sex blogger whether you’re having sex or not. I hate that some of the changes in your life aren’t exactly what you might have wanted, but I am excited to see what the next year brings for you and your warm vagina antics.
Oh, and third ((((HUGS)))) Somehow I still think you’re probably fuckable and adorable with food on your clothes. Just sayin’…
Thank you, Kayla! Your hugs mean so much to me.
“… disappointment knocked the breath out of me again and again, metaphorically speaking, of course. And each time he failed me, I trusted him less; raised my protective walls a little higher until I soon found myself on full guard and wicked pissed. I knew I wanted more; deserved better, so I opened the floodgates …”
Reading that left me shaken.
Replace “he” and “him” with “she” and “her”, and you have my marriage between 1996 and 2010. Increasingly disappointed, trust-less, on guard, and full on pissed.
In the same way you wrote about being “his fantasy come to life”, I was hers. I asked the same question in 2010, was she married to me, or the fantasy of me. In fact, did she want to be married at all.
January 2010, I issued the ultimatum I long thought only a complete and utter asshole would offer, “Get your shit together, or I’m gone.”
Long story short; she brought her A-game, I’m still here.
One of the reasons I love Vagina Antics is that you’re both so very real. You speak to me. Not just the generalized “me”, but me, personally. A thing for which I’m profoundly grateful.
May your new year be every thing you need. For the greatest good and highest potential of all involved.
Thank you, David! I’ve yet to see the A-game in my situation and not sure I will, but what happens will happen.
I’m so happy Heather and I touch you. Wait…
This is one of the most beautiful acts of honesty I have ever read
Thank you, sugarpants. Hugs to you.
If life only consisted of ups, we’d all soon be in the outer space and suffocate.
It’s life’s way of keeping us grounded, no?
Oh Nikki,
If you have capacity for more hugs, I offer you plenty {HUGS}.
Also, I’ve faced this question myself more than once and have concluded that, if one still wants to be a sex blogger, then yes, absolutely, you are – regardless of personal circumstances.
Life has a habit of not standing still. So hang on in there, allow all those feelings, and please know that you have a whole pom-pom waving cheer squad right behind you. Including me.
love to you, Anna x
Thank you, Anna. Big hugs and much love.
*ALL THE HUGS AND BOOBSQUISHES EVER*
With that out of the way, I wish I really could give you those hugs and support in person. Change is FREAKING SCARY. So I wish you the best of luck, no matter what happens. Stay strong, and stay true to you <3
I need your boobsquishes, Britt! Change is scaring the hell out of me, but I’m tackling it head-on and taking what I need from it.
Change sucks, and happens frequently anyhow. I hope your change brings great things.
You’re still a great sex blogger without having sex; you are reflective of your sexuality and the things that make you tick, and that is far more honest and interesting than amazing sex day after day.
Thank you, love. Big hugs to you. <3
Yes! Of course you’re still a sex blogger. We don’t always have the corner on great sex and relationships. We’re human. However, I think we have some insight on making things right when they’re wrong. Give yourself some time to re-center and get your life back on track. It may sound lame and like a cliche, but better times are ahead. *BIG HUGS*
Thank you, Bobbie. You truly made me smile.
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I’m sorry. Sometimes change is absolutely necessary, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it. I hope the new year brings you, and your vagina, great BIG new things!
Thank you, Karen! BIG new things to my vagina. Heh.
[…] that time, my three year relationship with Mr. K blew apart, destroying what confidence I had left. I gathered what pieces I could and retreated, shutting the […]
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