If Sex Were a Job, I Would Give My Two Weeks Notice

One point of constant contention in my home is sex. My husband firmly believes that we should have sex 7 nights week if his work schedule so allows. In some cases he expects it multiple times a day. He tells me that because I have no real employment sex is my only job. I explain that if it is in fact a job, I expect a 5 day work week much like everyone else. To be perfectly honest 5 days a week is too much. My girlfriends have confided that their husbands complain because they may only have sex once or twice a week. They may go an entire week without sex at all. (How nice it is to have the option.)

Sex has become a chore, so much so I rarely enjoy it. The intimacy of our relationship has long since lost its luster when someone forces you to have sex regardless of whether or not your tired, have a headache, not in the mood or any other reason you may devise.
When I say force, I don’t want to give you the impression that I am thrown down on the bed and bound. I say I am forced because there are consequences in not having sex. The verbal abuse I endure escalates beyond a comprehensible means. My husband enjoys creating a spectacle and loves to air his grievances in public by making snide remarks of how he’s “not getting any”. “Not getting any” means he went two straight days in a row without sex. He throws insults by telling me I should be happy he still wants to have sex with me. I have let myself go, I barely put any make-up and as he describes it I dress like a hippie. He on the other hand regards himself as a trophy husband. He works out daily, sometimes multiple times a day. He has more “product” than one woman could imagine.

This is just one of the many occasions when I find myself in a position where I can not win. A vast amount of discretionary funds are spent on my husband. If the truth be known, between the two of us, it is he who has the walk-in closet. I own 3 pairs of wearable shoes, while he owns 12. He has masks, moisturizers, toners, exfoliaters, gels and balms for his hair. He has well over 20 pairs of jeans in addition to dress slacks, cords, khakis and cargo pants.

When I purchase anything for myself it is always a fight. A year ago I bought some MAC mascara. Why the hell do I need that? I rarely get my hair done and again it is a fight about the cost of having it cut and colored. I rarely buy clothes for myself and when I do it is an argument as well. As he so famously talks out of both sides of his mouth, there is only one person in our house who is entitled to personal care and a wardrobe and that is the employed party. I would go to the gym if he would bother to watch the kids but he hates to have his precious free time tied up with that responsibility. He has suggested if I want to go I can go at 6 in the morning so it doesn’t interfere with either his schedule or the children.

I am capable of cleaning up and cleaning up nicely. If I so desire , and I decide to suck up the rants which will come my way I then begin to hear a new complaint which is who am I trying to impress? Why am I doing my hair? Why did I put make-up on? I must have a boyfriend. If that were the case, he must work at Super Walmart, and we must fuck like mad in the stockroom, because other than that I don’t really get to spend a lot of time out of this house.

And so you see the pattern is circular and never ending, he wants to verbally abuse someone and he is always looking for the reason. This is why I am going to keep writing and writing and writing. Because I need to write my way out of this funk as much as I need to write my way out of this marriage. I so desperately want to give my two weeks notice.