Yeah. I know I should be asleep, especially since I am almost always the one who wakes up between 8 and 9am with little Maxwell Edward, but I'm awake. I'm here doing my usual rounds of nothing on the computer. Just staying up late, keeping the world safe, killing zombies.
My pants are on fire.
Not literally. Figuratively.
See, the thing of it is that this time last year my wife was hella pregnant. And withholding sex from me. She was pregnant and the two of us were still fighting deeply, too, now that I remember it, due to some personal stuff that I shouldn't get into, so no sex for me.
Then the baby is born, but now it hurts my wife to have sex, so we hardly do it at all. Pretty much never. It's hard not to feel like she's withholding sex from me. I know it hurts her and I am sensitive to that, but I have a frrrrrrrreakishly insane sex drive that's like the drive of three sixteen year old boys and I'm being constantly cock blocked.
I swear it makes me want to scream sometimes.
I could ask her to "help" me, to "service" me, but you might as well be speaking Chinese. Does Not Compute. All your base are belong to us. Nope. Not happening. I'm all alone on this one.
Don't get me wrong. I love my wife. We've been together for almost a freaking decade and in that time I/we have gone through so much fucking bullshit fights and angry backstabbings and heartbreak that literally ANY OTHER relationship would have crumbled under the sheer weight of our last decade. But we are still here, still together, still married, still a freaking family. Because we are in love. And we're stubborn.
Stubborn and in love. That sounds good. I like that.
But I'm just worried, too. I mean, I'm freaking 35 years old. Soon it will be the big FOUR-OH. What will happen to my sex drive then? Will the fire in my loins dry out? Will by pants still be on fire? Will I wear bulky sweaters and grow a beard and read Richard Dawkins books and listen to NPR and free form jazz all day?
It's 1:41 am right now. I am drinking a horrible tasting Kiwi Strawberry Shasta and a bag of chips that my wife would usually yell at me about. My neck hurts. And my stomach. I'm worried that my kids are getting me sick. My trips to the bathroom are so frequent that I think I'm getting frequent flyer miles, you know?
Anyway, no real point to this post. I just wanted to share my mind, my heart, my crotch. Something personal and real. This is me. Reverend Steve: unapologetic truth. That's what you get. I'm not perfect, but ehh, you could do worse.
Stay tuned to this here blog, though. I have got a REEEEEEEEAL treat in store for you this sunday!
Wind Clan out!