Husbands should not be just roommates or your wife will stray.
Things happen in relationships that make it go stale. I am in my early 30s with a husband who has a stable good job. We have kids, pets, a nice house in the suburbs but spend most of our time in the city. For me it was a combination of things: he would be too casual with me and never tried to impress me; my friends were all having affairs or thinking about it; I'm insecure and needed to feel wanted because I didn't feel sexy anymore or maybe I never was; I wanted to have earth shattering mind blowing sex; I wanted to feel a bigger dick.
Most of my friends hated their husbands. I am no different. I resent him for so many reasons. Even the way he buckles his seat belt in "the Merc" as he called our Mercedes would irk me. He doesn't know anything about cars, but talked to people and read all these reviews on forums by guys who actually do know about cars so he can masquerade as an automotive enthusiast. He really just wants to pull up next to people and appear impressive because he has a nice car, but he doesn't even know why it's nice or how to drive it.
As a lawyer who went into technology, his crowd was full of these know it all types that wanted to seem like type A personalities, but are really just emotionally rash, insecure, man-children. They are quirky just to garner attention that they are brilliant or see things that mere mortals cannot. I hate him. I hate him every time he smiles. I hate him every time he throws his car keys down on the counter. I hate when he pulls his loud engine down our driveway. I hate how he fluffs himself up in the mirror and walks into a room. I hate how he talks and how he saunters.
I close the garage door behind him and sit down on our mud rooms bench. I sit in silence and appreciating the quiet as the kids are at school. This is when I usually take my vibrator out, but I couldn't find the charging cord for it so I just took a steam shower and used my fingers to rub my clit and nipples dreaming about big dick men. I am a pretty simple woman. I thought about how the shampoo bottle would feel, it was large but too taboo for me to try as a dildo just yet.
I ignore the cat and dogs as I dried off and skirted around them to get dressed. I question my decision on choosing a casual look as I lock up behind me and pull away from our house in my Audi. Wednesdays was for us girls to meet up and just air things out. We called it book club, but none of us actually read books. We would meet up for yoga, meals, shopping, drinking etc. Mostly just drinking. Michelle and I arrive to the lunch at the same time and I immediately regret wearing yoga pants. This was a nicer restaurant and I already felt like I was lower on the social totem pole. As we exchange niceties and sit down, I notice I'm the only one not wearing a dress.
"Excuse the dog hair, I had to take them out after yoga. Ugh, I didn't even have time for a juice today." I spat out, making up an excuse for my appearance and to try and inform the group that I'm busy too.
We ordered food an started drinking. I hated martini's, but Chloe loved them and everyone wanted to be in her good graces. "How is everything while Jim's away on business?" asked Chloe trying to start a conversation with her. It was awkward since she sat across from me and I didn't realize how large the table was. It would have been more appropriate for me to talk to someone next to me, but she was nice enough to stop her conversation and answer my desperate question that was more of a plea for attention.
The whole table stopped talking and all listened, half out of respect for Chloe to answer and half because we finally were getting to the part we all wanted to get to - gossiping about.
"He's back unfortunately, but that doesn't stop me" she followed up with a giggle. Her hair looked effortlessly immaculate as she tilted it back a little. I straightened up my posture as I noticed her tall-ness and really glamorous neck. She noticed my eyes and then touched her necklace (pearls) and tilted her head to the side with an inquisitive look as if to say: are you looking at this? "He got me this to make up for something or another that I was mad at him for. I think I made him feel guilty for something and told Deborah, his assistant how much I've been looking at new pearls." she finished off with another laugh.
She winked at me and then the storm started. Everyone chimed in, I swear even the waitress looked like she wanted to share. We all hated our husbands. It was funny, our moral code. Katie talked about how she wouldn't sleep with a married man because she would never do that to another woman. I thought it was cute, she is protective of a strangers emotions, a woman she's never even met, yet she has no problem cheating on her husband. Tessa chimed in that she totally will and already has slept with married me. "They're more appreciative" she explained.
All of this really led me to talk about all the amazing sex I've been having. I made up stories about how men lusted after me and how I strung them along because I was too good for them or higher class etc. It kept the conversation going, earned me so social capital, and made me feel like I was part of the girls' group. As I drove home after lunch I stopped to pick up some new lingerie. I was frustrated that I wasn't having as much sex as all these other women. I was too occupied to notice that I was low on gas and at that moment resented my husband even more for not checking and filling me up. He is always too damn busy at the country club. I swear that place gets him harder than I ever could. I slammed the palms of my hands down on the steering wheel and had a good cry. I am so angry all the time.
My husband is not the best looking and I thought I could do better. His parents paid for him to go to good schools and paved his way to success so he cannot and should not be proud of that. He is not self made by any stretch of the imagination. I am reminded of this every time I enter to the house.
My hands smell like gas, it took time out of my day and to top it off I have to walk by his trophy case. He puts it front and center in our entrance hallway. He is not the most athletic guy naturally. He has to pay for lessons, expensive equipment, guides and personal trainers to even perform at a mediocre level but is incredibly cocky about his athletic (pathetic) achievements in tennis, marathon running, cycling, and bird watching/photography. These damn pictures of tree branches, birds, and bugs put me over the edge.
I could not stand to be here anymore, surrounded by his shrine of success. I got back in the car and just drove. I do not know where I am going, I just wanted to drive and be away from the house.
I want something to compare to my friends fun lives. I need validation. Am I still sexy? Probably not as much as Chloe. Did anyone ever view me as sexy? I'm just the best my husband could get so he locked me up, but before then, did anyone notice me? I decided I need a stranger to give me attention. I would probably wind up turning him down and it would be nice if they were decent looking so I would feel superior making him feel like he didn't have a shot. That is it. I'll go find a guy, flirt, entice him to know I still got it, but I will not act on it. I don't need to. I just want to to feel something by turning him down.
After an hour of just driving aimlessly and stopping at random shops and stores. I get a phone call. "... yes, your son is fine, but we wanted to bring it to your attention that this is the second time he's been physical with another student at school." As bad as it sounds, I just didn't care. I don't care if my son struck another student, they'll be fine, but I knew I had to act surprised, caring, and motherly. I drove to the school, had the meetings, said the punchlines, and nodded my head. As I was leaving, the principal texted me a phone number and name. "It's the other students parents, you should really call them personally." she suggested.
"Thanks, I'll call them right now." I placated.
I made the call as I pulled out of the school lot thinking they were going to ignore an unknown number and I'd leave a generic message. Nope. "Hello, this is John" came a strong almost booming voice as it rang once and was quickly picked up. He sounded like a no-non-sense kind of guy and was very matter of fact about what happened. He suggested that our families get together and have an apology meeting. I agreed and accepted that it should be sooner rather than later. "My wife, Jess, will call you to schedule something." He said authoritatively and hung up.
I went home and prepared dinner. By that I mean I went to Whole Foods and packed up some boxes of the pre-made stuff, plated it, and put it in the warming drawer. The kids and my husband were arriving home when I got a phone call.
"Thanks, Jess. Tomorrow before school sounds just fine." I said as I tried to end the conversation.
"Umm, my name is Jessica. Only my husband calls me Jess." she tartly replied.
"I'm so sorry, let's meet tomorrow, Jessica!" I said as politely as possible to kill her with kindness, but also a little sarcastic. I didn't like that she was talking down to me already before meeting in person and trying to set the tone as formal and authoritative. I plopped the plates down on the table a little louder than I probably should have in frustration. My husband didn't even notice I was angry at being talked down to and that no one took me seriously.
"Hun, we should talk about something that happened at school today." I said after a few minutes. I realized I was begging for his attention with my actions and he didn't even notice. I was frustrated, desperate, and it was all un-related but all related at the same time. After we talked he went right to his office to review video of his technique for running or cycling or something. He paid more attention to that than to me. How could he be so crass? Did he not notice how upset I am?
We went through out usual routine and my husband explained how he had a big meeting at work and didn't want to be late. What? Am I supposed to handle this couple on my own? I thought. How in-considerate. I'm not good with socially interacting under stress.
