I’m in what sadly feels like an all too familiar situation right now, and I genuinely don’t know what to do about it. I can’t seem to get my boyfriend to have sex with me, and it doesn’t matter how many naughty underwear sets I buy, how many hours I spend getting ready, or how much effort I put in to the evening, he just won’t put out. What the fuck am I doing wrong?
This happened with Big Love towards the end of our relationship. I’m starting to see some weird similarities between the way Jock is holding sex against me right now, and the way that Big Love used to. I might be making this shit up but something has flicked some sort of switch inside me right now and it’s all I can think about.
For fucks sake… why won’t he have sex with me?
The last three times we have hung out, something has gone wrong and we’ve not had sex. The fight last weekend; yes that was my fault, but I knew we wouldn’t end up having sex later on that night. I knew it. He was far too pissed. I was far too pissed!
With the recent weight loss I’ve experienced, I’ve noticed that I’m starting to get a bit more confident. I’m starting to think that I look good and last weekend, I went out in a barely there mini dress that I looked freaking adorable in. It was black with white spots, kinda A-line, kinda 50’s, and the back was cut out. As was a small section at the front. Just enough to show off the enormous tits I’ve managed to keep as the rest of my body deflated. I was wearing black and bronze underwear – a beautiful balconette bra that pushed my boobs right up into the space at the front of the dress. I had matching french panties to go with them – frilly french panties. I looked good in them. Or so I thought I did in front of the mirror. When I do all this, and I look that good and he still doesn’t have sex with me…? My confidence is deflating fast.
He looked like a scruff when he picked me up, to the point where two guys in the garage we were buying smokes from said these EXACT words to Jock:
“Mate, how did you get her?”
I cannot believe he asked him that. TO HIS FACE. I had the cute dress on with a 50’s style quiff and ponytale and a matching black and white spotty bow in my hair, and he was wearing his Spongebob Squarepants socks with new high-top sneakers, board shorts and a dark coloured tee. To be fair he was hardly dressed in a way that matched my outfit, but DID THEY REALLY JUST SAY THAT TO HIS FACE?!?
I was mortified. I know we look odd when we are out and about but honestly; did someone just say that shit out loud? He didn’t let it bother him, of course. Jock is far too dignified for that. He turned it into a joke retorting something back like “I’ve got a dick like a baby’s arm, mate!”
As he said this, I thought to myself… No, he really doesn’t have a dick like a baby’s arm. I’m assuming this means he has a big dick, anyway. For a split second I wondered why I WAS with him. That’s never happened before. I’ve never felt like that before. What’s happening?
My head is fucked with so many different things right now. I have family shit going on, I’m turning 28 soon, I’m starting to think about a future with Jock yet somehow, yet again, everything has gone wrong. I tried to tell Jock about the shit that was going on in my life and my head, but he’s never around. He’s never there to answer the phone. Even when we are together, he talks so much I can barely get a word in edgeways. I used to love this about him. Now it’s driving me crazy. When I got in his car on Saturday night wearing that dress, the last thing I wanted to talk about was the shit that had been going on. I wanted to go out and show myself off and I wanted to party. I did try to tell him little bits to make him aware that I was probably in desperate need of a blowout, but once again, I couldn’t get a word in edgeways and he always had something important to say.
How am I meant to tell him that I need help? I need a shoulder to cry on, and someone to talk about my concerns with. I want to talk about my Mama’s situation with him. I want to ask him if my writing career is a big mistake. I want to ask him what his stance is on having kids because I’m pretty sure I’m changing my mind about them… and I’m also pretty sure he’s the reason behind it. But I can’t. He’s not an adult enough to have these conversations with. He turns everything into a joke and before I know it, we’re no longer on the same topic of conversation and he’s blabbering away again. I’m getting lost. It feels like I’m drowning.
We had a fight, of course. Sunday was a bad day for both of us. I told him that I was sick of trying to be the adult and sick of getting rejected sexually, and it was over. He’s a child. I can’t have a relationship with a child. I need a man. I told him months ago that, if he wanted a future with me, he at least needed to show me that he was taking control of his debt situation. He has done nothing, so again, I brought it up. I told him that I was sick of him turning everything into a joke and sometimes he needed to take life seriously, and he told me I was trying to change him. I don’t want to change him. I just want him to evolve in the same way that our relationship has. Is that really too much to ask for?
I’m not sure where we left it. He wanted to stay at mine and not waste the entire weekend again. I could think of nothing worse than being in his company anymore. I needed to go home and sleep off what ended up being a two-day hangover and cry myself to death. I don’t like where this is heading. Am I starting to lose interest again?
So right now, we’re in limbo. It’s probably for the best. It’s ‘Shark Week’ for me, and it’ll only turn into another fight.
To be fair, I did warn him if he didn’t put out on Saturday night, I’d leave him, before we even left the house…