By midnight on Friday, I had tried three times to get close to my fiancée. She was still playing games with her friends. I kissed her neck, she waved me away, and I told her to have fun. Then I went to bed, hoping I could fall asleep before I started thinking too much.
I had been waiting for Friday all week. Whenever I tried to get her in the mood, she said she was busy and asked me to wait until then. So when Friday came, I heard more than another no. I heard the answer to something I had spent days looking forward to.
I'm 26, she's 25, and we've been together almost six years. We moved in together about a year into the relationship. Before that, we lived an hour apart and saw each other on weekends. We had sex every weekend, and it was wonderful. She talked about how much more sex we would have once we shared a place. I believed we were looking forward to the same thing.
Instead, we started having less. Since moving into our current apartment in May, we've had sex three times. One of those times felt like pity sex to me: I had lost my job and told her sex would make me feel better. Remembering that doesn't make me feel wanted. Neither does remembering how much I pleaded for sexual attention on the weeklong cruise I booked in August, hoping we might reconnect. We didn't have sex there.
Before the cruise, in July, I spent an hour writing her a long message while crying in bed. I was anxious about us and losing sleep on a worknight. She hadn't read it by the next morning, so we talked. When I asked whether she would still read it, she said she didn't want to because it would make her sad. I let that go at the time. Months later, it hurts that the message I worked so hard to write remained something she didn't want to face.
During that conversation, she said she would ideally like sex twice a week. She also said anxiety and a lack of confidence were getting in the way, and asked for help. I've tried to support her by preparing meals and going to the gym with her. I want her to feel good about herself. But we've had sex only twice since the cruise, and I can't tell whether we're working toward something she wants or something she wishes she wanted.
I also catch myself listing everything I do at home: cooking, cleaning, laundry, groceries, most of the rent, all the utilities, and some of her car expenses. I don't think those things buy sex. They come to mind because I'm trying to understand what else I'm supposed to change. I feel worn down by trying to make our life easier while still struggling to talk about this part of it.
I love her, and I believe she loves me. I don't know that she's lied about wanting more sex, even though the distance between her words and our life leaves me feeling misled. That uncertainty is now reaching into the marriage I thought I wanted without reservation.
She's at work today. I haven't brought up last night yet; I've been trying to sort through my frustration before we talk when she gets home. This time, the question on my mind isn't just when we'll have sex again. It's whether she wants our sex life to change, and what marrying each other would mean if it doesn't.
