I don't love my wife. I respect and admire and like her - she's an incredible person, and any sensible man should be thankful to have her, but apparently I'm not sensible because I don't love her.
We've been together 12 years, married 10. Two DCs, 8 and 6, who - needless to say - are the reason it's still a marriage and not an ex-marriage.
Like a lot of these stories, it begins with sex, and a mismatch in drives. Hers was always lower, and although her perception is that we used to be at it like knives, we weren't. Maybe for the first few weeks. After that, we settled into a pattern that I'd associate with 20 years of marriage: 2, 3 times a week. That lasted a little while, but dwindled fast to once a week, then once a fortnight. Then the DCs came along and it tells you everything you need to know that I am certain where and when DS (second child) was conceived.
While all this dwindling was going on, I tried and tried and was rejected and rejected. It was humiliating, and caused a lot of resentment. Both of us, to be honest, were embarrassed to confront it, embarrassed to ask for what we wanted in bed, embarrassed to say "I'm not in the mood". Sex between us shrivelled and died. It's probably more than a year since we last attempted it, and that was a disaster. After years of feeling resentment and humiliation, I became the one to reject her. I wanted sex - want sex - but I don't want it with her. I quite simply am not attracted to her - the years of near-drought killed my desire for her. I actually don't blame her for it - we were both to blame, our inability to talk it through or get help before it was too late.
But now I don't want help. I want to be free. What began as sexual dysfunction spread and turned malignant. We don't row, we don't abuse each other - we simply exist under the same roof. The kids wouldn't necessarily be aware there's a problem, but we have no friends in common, no interests in common. The DCs are all that unites us. And they're great - happy, healthy, hilarious, intelligent little miracles. I adore them, and look forward to every second I spend with them, and have a wonderful time when I do. But it's always better if it's them with their mum, or them with me. Not both. "Family time" always has that underlying tension, at least for me.
Despite my respect and regard for my wife, I can't help misdirecting my feelings sometimes. I do find myself blaming her - although I certainly don't express it intentionally. (I'm suffering from quite acute depression, which I'm getting help for, but I'm certain the marriage difficulties are a cause, not an effect, of my MH problems.) Anyway, when I'm down, a symptom is anger. I'm not an angry person, and I don't shout or scream, and I've never used my fists on another human being, let alone in a relationship. I just go cold, and sarcastic, and freeze right up. I feel myself doing it and try not to, but it's so hard not to make my sadness come out as anger. She doesn't deserve it, and I do try my hardest to be nice. This doesn't happen often, but it's becoming more frequent, and I don't want to be that person. I hate myself when I freeze up on her, and that makes it all worse.
So we're both so unhappy, and we know that The Conversation, when it comes, will be the end of us. So we're not having The Conversation. We're desperately avoiding all conflict because we both know the dam will burst when we do.
And I know it's coming, but all I want is to minimise the damage for the children and for both of us. I think she still loves me, and is terrified. And part of me wants to do what a husband does - put my arms around her and make it all OK and reassure her. But I've got no reassurance to give: she may love me, but my love for her is gone. And The Conversation is coming and I'm so scared.
How can I have it in the most blame-free, kindest way possible? Is there a way to do this without cruelty? There isn't, is there? Oh god, I never wanted to be cruel to her.