I was a different person all those years ago when I ended up in Mark’s bed one January afternoon. It really was love at first sight for me when I encountered him at a conference, barely six months before that. Discovering he was already in a relationship with a long-term partner and two kids completely devastated me, and that night I wept for the children I would not be having with him. I cried so hard my body ached like I was going to die. Happily, as it turned out, my wailing tears were premature. I pursued my feelings for Mark, although I let him think he was the one doing the chasing. Now I am no longer the young weeping woman of that tumultuous time and we have been married fourteen years, with two children of our own.
I have never stopped loving him, although it hasn’t always been easy. For a long time Mark worried he was somehow a bad person for leaving his former partner, even though she was far from nice. He would fret, get angry, and go all furiously silent; but after a lot of confusion, financial struggle, and hard work we have a good marriage, good sex and good kids. I still feel the same burning passion that overcame me that first day, and I would do anything for him.
Well almost anything! Despite his regular suggestions I have never been interested in trying anal sex. I don’t really understand the attraction. When I ask him he just says that he thinks I will like it, and that we should try it out. Once he went into describing the effect of the anatomical differences but I was not at all interested in hearing those kinds of detail. I have not been that big on trying new things partly because what we already have between us is so great. Why complicate things? I grant you, I am squeamish and a bit of a prude; anal sex just seems a bit icky and I worry that it will hurt. Anyway, recently we have been gradually working up to maybe doing that too.
Mark has always been very keen on sex, and wants it every day. For the first eighteen months of our marriage we did have sex every day and often multiple times. Our lovemaking enthralled me. My husband was a very kind and considerate lover then. He would massage me, and please me with his words and touch me just right without a thought. Then with busyness, tiredness and the humdrum of marriage that easy amorousness slowly faded away. For a long while now I have felt having sex once a week is quite enough. Actually, from my point of view less than that was not a problem either, except for Mark’s sulking.
There has been a regular exception to this general attitude of mine. When I am ovulating I get the overpowering urge to have sex, and I become altogether a different person. At this point in my cycle I become sexually aggressive and want to be fucked hard and fast. Being tied up is good then too. If I get what I need, as hard and fast as Mark can manage, I am soon satisfied, although there is a good chance I will soon be up for more.
Taken together, this general disinterest in sex, punctuated by monthly heightened arousal and desire, is mostly how my sexual appetite has behaved in my twenties, and into my thirties. It was probably no coincidence that those years were dominated by both child birth and child rearing responsibilities, combined with the pursuit of studies and a professional career. I now think that these pressures, acting in tandem, significantly supressed my libido.