Monday, June 17, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
Constant companion
You've been with me my whole life, through thick and thicker. Whatever's happened, you've been there.
And I hate you for it.
You ruin everything. You slow me down, hold me back, make me look weak and lazy. You've ruined my clothes, kept me from doing what I want, where I want, when I want, with who I want. You make me uncomfortable everywhere I go. You make me hate myself.
I've tried getting rid of you. Tried everything I can think of. But it never works. Sometimes you go away for a while, but I can't forget you. I think about you every day, at every meal, at every activity, until you come back bigger, louder, and more annoying than ever before.
But this time, I'm going to kill you. Not like the other times, where I thought I could do it fast, rip you off like a bandaid. No, this time I'm going to do it slowly, painfully. I'm going to starve you. I'm going to run you into the ground. Oh, you'll fight it, I know you will, try to talk me out of it, beg for mercy and maybe some doughnuts. But I won't give up. You'll get weaker and weaker, you'll start fading away, and then one day, you'll be gone. Finally.
I'll be all alone. Reborn. Ready to start fresh, to build a new life without you.
I'll be skinny. I'll finally have gotten rid of you, the millstone around my waist. I'll be free. And thin. And happy.
And I hate you for it.
You ruin everything. You slow me down, hold me back, make me look weak and lazy. You've ruined my clothes, kept me from doing what I want, where I want, when I want, with who I want. You make me uncomfortable everywhere I go. You make me hate myself.
I've tried getting rid of you. Tried everything I can think of. But it never works. Sometimes you go away for a while, but I can't forget you. I think about you every day, at every meal, at every activity, until you come back bigger, louder, and more annoying than ever before.
But this time, I'm going to kill you. Not like the other times, where I thought I could do it fast, rip you off like a bandaid. No, this time I'm going to do it slowly, painfully. I'm going to starve you. I'm going to run you into the ground. Oh, you'll fight it, I know you will, try to talk me out of it, beg for mercy and maybe some doughnuts. But I won't give up. You'll get weaker and weaker, you'll start fading away, and then one day, you'll be gone. Finally.
I'll be all alone. Reborn. Ready to start fresh, to build a new life without you.
I'll be skinny. I'll finally have gotten rid of you, the millstone around my waist. I'll be free. And thin. And happy.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
The talk
"If I was a tower of strength, I'd walk away. I'd look in your eyes and here's what I'd say-" Gene McDaniels
Hold on, I need to say something. I love you,. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But, I also think about divorcing you. A lot. Like all the time. No, stop, let me finish. It's not because I don't love you. I do. I really do. But you make me miserable. Our sex life sucks and I don't know why.
No, don't make me the bad guy. I'm not the bad guy. I just want to have sex. With my wife. And you treat me like shit for it. You act like I'm some kind of asshole for suggesting that we get naked.
Oh come on, stop acting so put upon. I'm the one getting rejected. I'm the one who can't sleep because I'm so frustrated and pissed off. Do you know how it feels to get turned down night after night? Without even knowing why. No, of course not, because I would never do that. Not that you'd ever ask anyway.
Imagine how you'd feel if I kept turning you down. If I acted like I wasn't interested in you. You still complain about feeling fat and disgusting even though I'm trying to get you into bed every night, even though I'm obviously attracted to you. So imagine how I feel when you show no interest. When you make it clear you could go weeks without sex. You make me hate myself and then I hate you for doing it.
I've told you this. I tell you all the time and you don't listen. I tell you and I tell you and I tell you and just ignore me. Nothing changes. It's like you think I'm joking.
I told you just the other night what you were doing. I came right out and said that it makes me miserable when we don't have sex and you ignored me. You were tired. You wanted to watch the Knicks game that we were fucking taping. You basically said " I don't give a shit if you're miserable. Go fuck yourself." And once you passed out, I did.
But I still couldn't sleep. Because I was miserable. And when I did finally sleep, I dreamt of having sex with you. And I was happy. Then I woke up, remembered that you'd fallen asleep on the couch again, that we hadn't had sex. Not last night, not for days, weeks actually. And I was miserable. Again. But it was better than the nights where you actually reject me in my dreams. Sometimes it's so bad that I just dream of masturbating. And of course, even though you said we'd have sex in the morning, you just slept all day. Woke up at noon, ate lunch, and went right back to sleep. Cause you were tired.
No, of course I love you. Stop fucking saying that. You always whine that I don't love you, but I'm the one making all the effort. I'm the one trying to fix this. And you don't help. You must see there's something wrong and you don't make any effort.
I'm the one doing all the work around here, making all the sacrifices, trying to figure out how to make you happy. I try to find stuff to do together, plan for the shows and the games and the massages and the vacations. I do as much as I can so you don't have to. So you can relax. So you can stop worrying. And what do I get? Fucking nothing. You can't be bothered. You can't even sacrifice twenty fucking minutes on the fucking chore of sex.
So I blame myself. I try to get better. I bust my ass trying to lose weight. But you just fucking let yourself go. You eat whatever the fuck you want, you never weigh yourself, you never exercise, and then you whine about being fat. Well, you are fucking fat. But I still want you.
No, I don't hate you. I love you. And I want you. You're fucking fat and I still want you. You reject me every fucking night and I still want you. You keep telling me I hate you, and you keep trying to make me hate you, keep trying to make me miserable and I still love you.
I want to be with you. I want to have kids with you, even though then we probably really will never have sex again.
I want to fix this. But I can't do it alone. Unless I'm the problem. Just tell me if I am. I'll keep trying to get better. Because I love you.
But I wonder if you still love me. You say you do, but you don't show it. Can't you just do it to make me happy? Can't you just spend 20 minutes getting me off so I don't have to be miserable? Or do you just take me for granted? Do you take everything for granted?
Like I'll always be here. Or I'll always be healthy. Or I'll keep turning down the girls at work. What if I'm not? What if I don't? What if they catch me on the wrong day, after I dream of getting rejected again, after I haven't had sex for weeks? What if I'm weak? What will you do then? Will you blame me? Will you hate me? Or will you hate yourself? For wasting all our time together. For taking me for granted. For driving me away.
I don't know. I don't want to know. I just want you. I want to fix this. So what do we do?
Hold on, I need to say something. I love you,. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But, I also think about divorcing you. A lot. Like all the time. No, stop, let me finish. It's not because I don't love you. I do. I really do. But you make me miserable. Our sex life sucks and I don't know why.
No, don't make me the bad guy. I'm not the bad guy. I just want to have sex. With my wife. And you treat me like shit for it. You act like I'm some kind of asshole for suggesting that we get naked.
Oh come on, stop acting so put upon. I'm the one getting rejected. I'm the one who can't sleep because I'm so frustrated and pissed off. Do you know how it feels to get turned down night after night? Without even knowing why. No, of course not, because I would never do that. Not that you'd ever ask anyway.
Imagine how you'd feel if I kept turning you down. If I acted like I wasn't interested in you. You still complain about feeling fat and disgusting even though I'm trying to get you into bed every night, even though I'm obviously attracted to you. So imagine how I feel when you show no interest. When you make it clear you could go weeks without sex. You make me hate myself and then I hate you for doing it.
I've told you this. I tell you all the time and you don't listen. I tell you and I tell you and I tell you and just ignore me. Nothing changes. It's like you think I'm joking.
I told you just the other night what you were doing. I came right out and said that it makes me miserable when we don't have sex and you ignored me. You were tired. You wanted to watch the Knicks game that we were fucking taping. You basically said " I don't give a shit if you're miserable. Go fuck yourself." And once you passed out, I did.
But I still couldn't sleep. Because I was miserable. And when I did finally sleep, I dreamt of having sex with you. And I was happy. Then I woke up, remembered that you'd fallen asleep on the couch again, that we hadn't had sex. Not last night, not for days, weeks actually. And I was miserable. Again. But it was better than the nights where you actually reject me in my dreams. Sometimes it's so bad that I just dream of masturbating. And of course, even though you said we'd have sex in the morning, you just slept all day. Woke up at noon, ate lunch, and went right back to sleep. Cause you were tired.
No, of course I love you. Stop fucking saying that. You always whine that I don't love you, but I'm the one making all the effort. I'm the one trying to fix this. And you don't help. You must see there's something wrong and you don't make any effort.
I'm the one doing all the work around here, making all the sacrifices, trying to figure out how to make you happy. I try to find stuff to do together, plan for the shows and the games and the massages and the vacations. I do as much as I can so you don't have to. So you can relax. So you can stop worrying. And what do I get? Fucking nothing. You can't be bothered. You can't even sacrifice twenty fucking minutes on the fucking chore of sex.
So I blame myself. I try to get better. I bust my ass trying to lose weight. But you just fucking let yourself go. You eat whatever the fuck you want, you never weigh yourself, you never exercise, and then you whine about being fat. Well, you are fucking fat. But I still want you.
No, I don't hate you. I love you. And I want you. You're fucking fat and I still want you. You reject me every fucking night and I still want you. You keep telling me I hate you, and you keep trying to make me hate you, keep trying to make me miserable and I still love you.
I want to be with you. I want to have kids with you, even though then we probably really will never have sex again.
I want to fix this. But I can't do it alone. Unless I'm the problem. Just tell me if I am. I'll keep trying to get better. Because I love you.
But I wonder if you still love me. You say you do, but you don't show it. Can't you just do it to make me happy? Can't you just spend 20 minutes getting me off so I don't have to be miserable? Or do you just take me for granted? Do you take everything for granted?
Like I'll always be here. Or I'll always be healthy. Or I'll keep turning down the girls at work. What if I'm not? What if I don't? What if they catch me on the wrong day, after I dream of getting rejected again, after I haven't had sex for weeks? What if I'm weak? What will you do then? Will you blame me? Will you hate me? Or will you hate yourself? For wasting all our time together. For taking me for granted. For driving me away.
I don't know. I don't want to know. I just want you. I want to fix this. So what do we do?
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