Happy Valentine’s Day!

Today represents one year exactly since I last had sex with my husband.   Last year, he brought me home a dozen long-stem, red roses.  He gave each of our daughters a rose as well.  I made a nice dinner of horseradish encrusted salmon–a dish I had never made before but one that my husband loved and ordered every time we went to the Blues Bayou Café for dinner. I bought him some fancy flavoured massage oil/lubricants. We exchanged cards, drank wine and enjoyed a chocolaty, rich, decadent dessert.

I had no idea that night would be the last night we would be intimate together.  I remember it though.  I said to him afterwards, “Who were you having sex with because it wasn’t me?”  He faltered slightly, paused, but not enough that it meant anything obvious to me.  He said, “No…, I was having sex with you.”  He didn’t ask me why I asked that question but for me our sex that night was raunchier than usual.  He was more aggressive, verbal, dominant; it was noticeably different.

Since then, I haven’t held hands with anyone; kissed anyone or even had anyone in my mind to fantasize about.  I am still married; not legally separated; and although I am taking the legal steps to move forward with my life I am not ready mentally, emotionally, physically, financially or morally to engage in another relationship on any level.

Today marks a passage of time that has gone by very quickly.  It really does seem like yesterday when we were last together.  I wonder how many times he has had sex in the last year; what it is like for him; has he learned any new tricks; discovered new pleasures; participated in kinkier things than he ever did with me.  Has he had more adventure, experienced better orgasms, explored different positions?  Has he had more than 1 partner, multiple partners at the same time and does he ever feel like he is still cheating on me?  I wonder if he ever misses having sex with me. I wonder if he feels empty when he lies in bed after the act is completed or did he feel empty after being with me and now someone else makes him feel more alive.  All futile thoughts and wasted energy because I will never know the answers to any of those questions.

Abstinence does not make my heart grow fonder for my husband. On the contrary, it makes me firm in my position that I cannot imagine being with him intimately again.  When I see him, I can’t even look at his face.  I cannot stand to be in his presence.  It is more than uncomfortable;  it is unbearable.  And yet, I would have loved him to have sent roses for Valentine’s Day.  I would have loved him to have sent a sincere, heart-felt, “I’m sorry” letter outlining how remorseful, regrettable and miserable his life has been since cheating on me and being separated from me.  Instead I am wondering how he is showing his girlfriend his love for her on Valentine’s Day.