Up until about seven years ago, I had a somewhat black and white view of sex and adultery within a committed relationship. Case in point:
Infidelity – infidelity was for arseholes. If a man has an affair, he most likely thinks with his dick and lacks the inner strength to work through the challenges relationships bring. If a woman has an affair, she is jeopardising her family, demeaning herself, and betraying the sisterhood.
Sex – I liked sex as much as the next woman. That is to say, I used to. But by 2011, I was 40 with two children under six. I was working. I was trying to run the household. To be frank, I still thought my husband was attractive, but I just wasn’t attracted to him. I had no interest in sex anymore; or on the odd occasion I did feel a tingling between my thighs, by the time I weighed up the logistics of following through, the moment had usually passed.
My husband’s sexual needs – I wasn’t meeting them. I didn’t want sex and he was going to have to get used to it. Have a pull. Jerk the chain. Do whatever, but don’t expect me to roll over and think of England. To put out when I didn’t really want to felt like a denial of me; an insincere gesture to us both. Besides which, I was bloody tired and resentful.
- Mamamia
