Old Dogs

Just as I was talking about my old insecurities creeping in, John pushed one of my buttons. That's not the part that bothers me most either. It's his second typical behavior that has me boiling at this point. Who knows when I might get to sleep now. And the whole time I'm writing this, I have the asshole chorus singing backup (asshole, asshole, asshole) Why did I have to pick such an emotional stump to spend my life with when it comes to these things?

We haven't slept together in three weeks, and by that I mean in the same bed. Sex isn't even a memory at this point. Crises don't exactly make for an active love life. Neither do kicks in the ass because someone is being one, like being an ass is a turn-on in the first place. But even if the emotional distance were opportune, our physical distance is not. We took turns staying up with Booie when she first got sick, then I was spending the nights at the hospital while John was at home. Now Boo and I are in my bed while he sleeps on the couch. We worry about her falling out of her own bed, and we want someone to be there for her should she wake up in pain or need to go potty, both of which have happened. So John and I have much space between us now, and he's not helping any by being a prick about a job he was supposed to do anyway.

For a while, I was wondering if we'd ever have sex again. I couldn't envision myself ever wanting to again while we were in the midst of the worst of this crisis. I was really happy to even be thinking of the possibility of sex again, much less doing it. Then John goes and acts an asshole and makes me wish I hadn't done any thinking at all.

I cannot have sex when I'm mad. I know some people can, and it's supposed to be fantastic, but there is no way I could do it. I'd want to deck him every time he laid a hand on me, and God save his penis if that came within my grasp. Ok, I'm not really like that, but I really cannot be aroused at all when I'm mad, at least mad at the person with whom I would be having sex.

My circuitry is probably far too complex, I admit. There are many shut-off switches. I don't have a complicated maze of tricks and techniques to get me going either. That part's pretty simple. It's the myriad hang-ups I have that will flip me off like a switch that are the problem.

All this talk about sex when I'm mad John had a hissy because I told him to scoop the cat litter he should have done anyway. A bit sexually frustrated, maybe? But I better not get going on sexual frustration, because I've had a lot of that too. It's good to be able to worry about some of the usual things again.