Do Who Makes You Happy

Photo by Alex Blăjan on Unsplash

My body new my marriage was over long before my mind ever did. In the mornings whilst making the bed I would look at the position of our pillows. His squarely on his side or in the middle towards mine. My pillow on the far side nearly tipping on to the floor.

I went to great lengths to avoid sex, often climbing out of bed early. On the mornings I wanted to sleep in I would prey for his hands to keep off of me.

He said, “you don’t want to have sex with me.”

“I can’t separate sex from my feelings,” I replied one courageous morning. “You called me a moron last night. That is what I hear when your hands are on me.”

I wanted a sorry. I knew there would be no apology. I never got an, “I’m sorry Babe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Rather he would say I deserved it, it was always my fault. I am the one that needs to change and I shouldn’t be so sensitive anyway.

I never claimed to be perfect. I am a calamity of errors. Last night I cooked a roast chicken for a vegetarian - did not get the memo.

Only human I tired of adjusting to his irrational standards and his lack of empathy. So I quite faking my marriage. I listened to my body and I took heed of my feelings.

My ex husband still liked my body, he said so. “After all these years, I’m still attracted to you.” But it wasn’t…