Virgins, avert your eyes now. Those of a sensitive demeanor when sexual issues are discussed, cover your sensitive ears. The rest of you pervs that have an interest in my sex life (or lack thereof), listen up.
Yeah, I thought that was most of you. Confession time for me...I'm a cold fish. Chocolate?!?! Oh, yes please! Sex? Eh, not so much. If my blessed husband does not start messing around on me soon, I will be surprised. I bring a whole new definition to the word "frigid". Throughout our nearly 9 year relationship, I've never been too sexual, a trait I always blamed on depression at the beginning and middle of our relationship, and infertility within the past two years of it.
When things became sexual I was on Paxil, and essentially felt as if my vagina had fallen off. Penetrative sex was infinitely dull for me, as I felt as if I was just a recepticle and outlet for The Dude's sexual urges. I derived absolutely no pleasure from any of it, though of course I pretended as if I did. I am not the type to fake orgasms (I would feel too self-concious) but instead would rely on the trusty, "No, I didn't have an orgasm, but it was nice to be so close to you." schpeel. In reality, I would have much preferred to read a book or eat a chocolate chip cookie dipped in cold milk.
Fast-forward to current times, where we are now graced with the constant cloud of infertile sex hanging over our king size bed, and things have not changed much. Behind us are the heady days of robotic must-have-sex-or-we-will-die action sponsored by Clomid, but now we have reached the sexual desert. Thanks to the IUI catheter and easily downloaded porn, there is no need for sex! It is absolutely atrocious to treat sex this way, and I feel horrible, but that's how I view the whole sordid situation at the moment.
Sure, there are plenty of times that we can have sex between cycle day 1 and IUI day, but who can with all the nausea, extreme mood swings and stomach upset? I have enough trouble feeling sexy with the horror of my corpulence (is there a better word in the English language?) greeting me when clothes are shed, let alone feeling as if all I really want to do is curl up and pull the duvet over my head.
I suppose what I'm looking for here is some validation. I get the impression that many of you are sex-crazed nymphos and damn if I don't envy you. I don't need lessons in getting it on, I know how to do it and do it well in ideal situations. I don't have Samantha from Sex in the City's "goodie closet" but I do have a "goodie corner of the wardrobe" which surely must count for something, right?
A sample of The Dude's extreme sexual frustration:
Me: "I offered a free shot in the ass with a drug of their choice to the first blogger able to tell me where the quote from my blog came from, and no one has gotten it right yet!" (N.B. Julie has come to the rescue. She knew it was Dave Chappelle. Do I seriously have no Dave-lovers aside from Julie that read this thing? You ladies don't know what you're missing...)
Him: :::waving enthusiastically, nearly throwing himself of the bed in arm-thrashing fury:::: "I know!!! I know where it's from!!!" ::::panting::: "Instead of getting a free shot in the ass, can I get a free shot at ass?"
In case any of you were wondering how that act of desperation turned out...The answer was no. Who knew?