My own story began 14 years ago when a lovely young lady entered my life one night at a friend’s party. To be honest, she wasn’t striking to the eye. As many of us know, some woman attract attention instantly. Some are all legs, some have hair that floats and bounces as if controlled by a magic hand, while others have haunting eyes that mystically taunt men with a single sideways glance. Sam wasn’t any of these types. A fair judgement would be to say that she was a middle-of-the-road girl. Little makeup and little height, Sam never stuck out in the room made up mostly of similarly unattached twenty-year-olds.
But looks aren’t everything, right? Although I have the same red blood running through my veins as any other fertile man, I rarely take people on appearance alone, including unattached women. I look first but I also listen, making assessments after some significant contact is made. Sam and I made some great contact that night. It was a perfect connection. She made me smile. I felt comfortable in her presence. I drove her home and she asked me to call her sometime. I took it as a sign that the night went well for her too.
Before you get ahead of my story, no, ‘contact’ does not mean I slept with her. We only talked. We talked so much that night that we forgot the time. We got to that point when we suddenly realised the sun was lighting the sky again. I didn’t want her to go. I don’t think she wanted to go either. No, I didn’t bed her. I simply enjoyed her company.
Calling her wasn’t an easy thing do, not at first. It’s not that I didn’t want to, I did, but my previous relationship had left some residuals behind. I wanted to be fair to Sam. I hadn’t quite let go of Nina. Going backward wasn’t an option but I knew I needed to move on… without dumping any garbage on the new girl. I decided I`d ring Sam but if we were to date, I’d prefer to take the whole process very slow. She agreed to my offer. She even liked it. I think she felt I was being responsibly sensitive, a most admirable and rare quality in a man.
The topic of sex didn’t arise again for another three months, when it did, the topic of religion immediately followed. She’s Catholic and I knew Church meant a great deal to her. I respected her Faith and I also respected her wish to remain celibate. At the time it didn’t matter. It worked well with my go-slow approach. If it weren’t for the movie we’d been watching beforehand it’d never come up. At least I knew the deal and we’d begun to make plans for a future.
Two years passed by and I was ready to proceed. Love had grown and I was certain she was the one. My motives were honorable and I felt my conscience was clear. We’d spoken of sex many times by this point, quite frequently too. I made my move. The move was rejected. The aforementioned reasons remained unchanged. She wanted to wait until we were married.
What do I do?
My mother had two simple rules for me: Never call and ask to be picked up from the police station and when a girl says no it means no.
I loved Sam but I couldn’t… you know, love her that way until we were married. That would be another five years away. She smiled and said, ‘Don’t worry, it will all be perfect then, I promise you.’
I was deflated… frustrated… but optimistic… a promise is a promise… and she was always good with hers. If you love somebody then it shouldn’t matter, right? In dreams it’s a perfect way to build love. Besides, I would’ve felt superficial to abandon this relationship over sex. A deep and meaningful relationship is built on things more important, like respect. Respect begins and ends with trust. She trusted me and I trusted her. I had no reason not to trust her. Respect is earned and we had much in our bank. Why end such a rich relationship when a promise is sealed with long-tested trust?
Was it too long?
The wedding night wasn’t perfect. Anxieties that had been building for almost a decade prevented her from relaxing. I didn’t like hearing the screams. I hated seeing the tears. It wasn’t the magical moment we’d dreamed it to be. I took it slow and she tried so hard but when the word was shouted over my shoulder, my mother’s voice was heard in its echo: ‘No means no.’
I should’ve known it was already too late. Long term abstinence had turned sex into a monster. It placed it on a plane we could no longer reach… and the course was set. By not going there so often we couldn’t get there at all. The habit of stopping was so ingrained into my routine and the habit of saying no was so buried inside of hers that we knew nothing else. An unpleasant first-time didn’t help and all-others reinforced it.
This year now marks 7th year of our sexless marriage, 7 more if you add our dating years. She wants a baby this year and I know what you’re thinking, she’ll be onto it and all that won’t matter. That’s where all gets super-weird, she isn’t onto it. We want to have a baby and she’s telling her friends all about it… but it’s a joke because there’s no sex to make one. I’m in a joke but I’m not laughing. How do believe you’re having a baby without any sex?
Now I’m bitter and disappointed. I hate myself for being fooled. I hate her for not taking the same care I did for her. I feel she has used religion to cover her asexuality and me to present to her to the world as a normal person. She broke her promise and now she breaks it again every day that passes.
-K (My own sexless marriage is written in SEETHINGS)
- The foolish cruelty of Catholic conservatives who want gays to disappear (theweek.com)
- 6 important things every woman should consider before saying I do (citifmonline.com)
- Catholic Bishops Have The SCOTUS Sadz (joemygod.blogspot.com)