From the Brain of Matty

sex (13-Apr-04 10:45 am)

I'm sitting in the car right now listening to U2, skipping a boring lecture, because a freak convergance of fate meant that Rochelle has an alternative mode of transport this morning, and who the hell schedules an 8am lecture anwyay!?
In case you're wondering, I'm actually writing with a pen & paper, and will type this up when I can be bothered getting in to uni.

Last night I decided it's a good thing I don't get online during the night anymore. At night seems to be when all the "bad" stuff comes out. Usually the next morning I've forgotten it all again, which is why there's amazingly little depressing morbid droll crap in this blog. Take last night, for example. Last night I got pretty upset about something, but just now I couldn't for the life of me remember what, until I really thought about it.

It's about sex.

I don't know what happened, or when, or how, but I'm starting to get the feeling that Shell doesn't find me sexually attractive anymore. It's not that we've fallen into a rut or boring pattern; we don't even have that. Usually the only time anything really happens anymore is when I really quite push for it. She always seems to enjoy it, but she never seems to want to initiate anything anymore. And I know it's crude, but she hasn't gone down on me for ... ages. She always said she used to love it, and now if I ever mention it she just makes some kind of joke or avoids it. I don't know what's wrong. Maybe she does make moves & stuff, but only when I'm not receptive to it. I know that used to happen sometimes. But I don't know.

And by now you're saying, so what, there's more to love than sex, right? Well yes, of course there is, but sex still matters. It embodies a lot (I won't say most, but still a lot) of the physical aspect of a relationship. It cements the bond, and exemplifies the willingness of both people to join together and have a family. It matters. And without it I feel unsexy, and unsatisfied, and unwell.

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