Most nights are like last night. I lay in bed, perfectly still, as near the edge as I can. The clock says 2:21. I'm not sleeping despite having lied perfectly still and silent for 4 hours. My brain is shouting but my mouth is silent.
"I can't be intimate with a woman who doesn't love me! I can't be intimate with a woman who doesn't trust me! I can't be intimate with a woman who doesn't care for me!"
My therapist describes Donna as a "highly sexual woman burdened by guilt by her family of origin and religious upbringing". This guilt has crippled her. The problem is, she doesn't know it. She doesn't believe it.
My brain shouts again, "The Book of Abraham is a fraud! Joseph Smith was a liar! PLEASE BELIEVE ME!"
Donna doesn't trust me though. She doesn't care about me either. She cares about protecting herself and her faith. She cares about the idea of being married. I think she has considered the reality of being a single, 32 year old, Mormon mother. I think she has decided that a loveless marriage to a providing apostate is better than the alternative.
She feigns effort. Yes, she ditches the garments for bed once in a while. Like last night, for example. She came up to bed. Turned out all the lights. Changed into a tank-top and pajama bottoms and crept quietly back to bed. She lay still and hoped I would notice her under the covers.
I didn't, not till this morning as I left for work. I left quietly hoping not to wake her. I didn't want to talk to her. I didn't want to pretend my heart wasn't broken. I didn't have the energy for that.
Donna keeps score. Some time in the coming weeks she will use the fact that she wore civilian underpants to her advantage. In a moment where she needs the leverage she will say, "Hey, I made the effort. I even (did the absolute, bare minimum that could be expected and) came to bed (invisibly) in something sexy." And because she is technically right she will get away with it. The point will count even on a technicality.
I want her to examine her faith in Mormonism because I think it is an anchor around the neck of her intimacy. The guilt is palpable in the days after we make love. She crawls into her shell of shame and mourns her lost virtue for weeks at a time. She shows it in her layers of clothes. She shows it in her sudden disapproval of sexual discussion. Mostly, she shows it in her rejection. She shows it by imposing a kind of sexual purging to repent for the two or three day binge she wickedly enjoyed.
I am so very tired of trying. However, I too have considered the alternative. So there I lay every night. Pretending to be asleep so I don't have to say what's on my mind.
Filed under - Donna | Marriage | Mormonism | Sex
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