Seeking an Orgasmic Life
Smack! A brown envelope lands on my doormat.
I ignore it.
I return to ‘decluttering’ my bedroom. I have found certain things that don’t belong to me: a single brown brogue, a leather suit carrier and a silver drop earring with a turquoise stone. I pick it up and my hand hovers over the cardboard box where I have put the other items, then I drop it in. Ha, you take it, I think. I wonder if it will mean anything to him: probably not.
I can hear the cat wrestling with the brown envelope downstairs. The envelope flaps about as it’s thrown against the door. Rex, my cat, is a fearless fighter and a ratter; anything that enters the house needs to beware! Even envelopes. ‘Sssshhht’, I call down the narrow stairs. Silence.
I found the other one last year, caught on a tuft of carpet in my bedroom. Not my style. Too hippy for me. I never mentioned it to my husband. It would only have meant more arguments. We weren’t sleeping together anyway. Not a couple. Not a couple since that, particular, argument…
Then, with a meow, Rex resumes her attack. I sigh, head downstairs and carefully remove the envelope from her grip. The envelope is torn, little holes pattern the paper where her claws have been. I put it on the kitchen worktop and leave it there.
I don’t need to open it; I know what’s in it.
‘So, I think it’s pretty likely sex has happened in my bed over the past few years, but just not with me. ‘
I can’t actually remember the last time I had sex.
Maybe three years ago. Even then it wasn’t that often. I guess that’s what happens when a marriage falls apart.
The arguments seep into all areas of intimacy. Sex becomes part of your arguments. I like it like this, but you like it like that…you never listen to me…you’re not interested in what I like… And so it went on until the best I could hope for was that everyone just quietly got into bed at different times and rolled over and went to sleep. I even stopped masturbating. I worked, I cleaned, I put the kids to bed, but I was not a sexual being. My vagina became a dark and cold place, where cobwebs had been woven and no one had noticed.
That reminds me of the envelope.
For the past year I have imagined the arrival of this letter, how I would cry when it came; dramatic sobs would overcome me.
Instead, when I pull out my Degree Nisi and read that I am now legally divorced all I feel is relief.
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