“You’re going to bed already?” I complained, as I prepared to read our 3-year-old a bedtime story across the hall. It was my not-so-veiled solicitation for sex. I was nearing ovulation and in the mood. I knew Brad was rarely in the mood at nighttime – unlike me, he’s a morning person – but I was hoping, by chance, he might be.
“Yeah, I’m tired,” he grumbled. “I have to work in the morning.” After I got my daughter to sleep in her own bed – a rare gem – I came back in to cuddle, to see if he was really asleep or just faking.
“Fine… come on over here, Beast.” he said endearingly and reluctantly. Half asleep, he started doing his duty, but I could tell he wasn’t into it. He’d joked earlier in the evening – after one of my innuendos – that he might be in the mood if Kitty were around.
A few minutes into our ritual, I started laughing uncontrollably. This irritated Brad immensely. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” I said. “It’s just this is exactly like the video I watched about bonobos earlier, where the females push and kick the males until they agree to satisfy them.”
“Ok, I’m done,” he said, rolling over angrily and pulling the up the covers. I stormed off to the shower to cry.
“This is it! This is exactly why we need to do this,” I sobbed from behind the shower curtain, when Brad came in to make amends.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Polyamory!” I shouted.
“Because you don’t want me, and I’m tired of it! I need to be desired! I need to be touched!”
“Shh, you’re going to wake Nora up,” he tried to calm me, as I worked myself into hysterics. He tried to coax me back into the bedroom to make it up to me, but it was too late. The mood had been killed and it was neither one of our faults.
After going round and round in circles, Brad finally convinced me that he did, in fact, have a “burning desire” to “make love” to me, even though I’d just thrown a tantrum more obnoxious than any 2-year-old. He gave me what I needed and we went to sleep.
I’m sure there are a thousand sexologists ready to give us all kinds of kinky tips on how to reignite the passion in our relationship, but I’m just not interested. It’s humiliating. I’m not going to dress up like Cat Woman or a Playboy Bunny to trick my man into wanting me. And he shouldn’t feel pressured to pretend he has a “burning desire” for me, when he doesn’t.
The problem is fires don’t burn indefinitely unless you keep adding more wood. They start with a spark, work their way up to a roar, and then calm back down to a crackle. When the crackling gets too quiet, someone throws another log on, and the flames flare back up. The cycle repeats over and over again, as long as there are more logs, more fuel.
Our fuel is running out. Brad and I have tried all the tricks. We’ve fanned the flames. We need more logs – new energy, a fresh perspective. It doesn’t mean we don’t love each other, or that we are done with each other. It just means we need something new.