He lept to his feet pulling his trousers up. I said something like "oh, excuse me. I thought you must be asleep..." and went back upstairs. He followed me up, and came in to the bedroom to ask me if I wanted to talk about it. I had my head under the duvet and muttered something about not wanting to wake ds up.
This morning was just normal. No one mentioned anything, but the kids were flying about and it's always a bit frantic in the morning.
I know it's normal and all men do it and it's harmless and all those logical things. I know I should feel fine about it. But I don't. I feel wretched. I want to go to bed and curl up and have a cry. I feel silly and sad and horrid.
Dh and I don't have sex. I don't think he fancies me. A few years ago I got fed up with the rejection and I stopped trying. I've tried to make my peace with it. We have a good relationship and he is a good friend, and good husband, a good dad and a nice chap.
For a while we talked about it endlessly, but nothing worked so we just stopped.
I sometimes feel violently, furiously angry that I have to live a celebate life. I'm young and not unattractive (not fat, not ugly, just a normal mum in her 30s).
So how do I react?
If I never bring it up again I am fairly certain that he won't either.
I can see myself acting all fine about it and then making the odd little barbed comment.
Maybe this is the cue we need to get talking and sort out our sex life? I just don't think I can take any more rejection though.
I really want to cry. I feel so angry with him. I'm trying not to because all the poor bloke did was masturbate in the privacy of his own dining room.
Please help.
Please don't laugh at me.
Please don't regale me with tales of your own wonderful sex life.
What do I do? And how do I stop feeling so shit?