Why Men Fear Commitment
Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation. The other eight are unimportant.
- George Burns
Let me start by saying that I haven't kissed my wife in years. YEARS, you read it right. Don't get me wrong, she gave me a nice little peck before she left this morning. But I'm talking about kissing.
My wife is a beautiful woman. She is an amazing mother, and she gives me every verbal indication that she loves me deeply. Those verbal indications are important to me; I like receiving affirmation from my wife. My wife takes care of my home with the passion and commitment of someone who gets paid $1,000,000 an hour to do it. She works her ass off 8 hours a day to support her family. She is an awesome wife, a gift from God, and any man would be lucky to have her. So why am I crying myself to sleep at night?
Notice that the previous paragraph gives no indication of physical intimacy. When I say physical intimacy, I'm not only talking about sex, I'm talking about physical contact…period…just touching of any kind. The reason there is no indication of physical intimacy is because there is none in my house, unless you count the kisses I lavish on my children (to their dismay). There are a bunch of men who would kill to have a wife like mine – a woman unconcerned with foreplay, passion, cuddling of any kind (naked or clothed), hugging, or even kissing. I'm not your average dude.
My wife has issues with intimacy. She has no problem with sex, but feels too much surrender during lovemaking. See, intimacy without complete surrender is not intimacy at all. Now, think about that statement for a moment. Read it again; roll it around in your mouth and see how it tastes; run it up the flag pole and see who salutes, etc. My wife isn't interested in true intimacy because she can't make herself vulnerable to me. Making herself vulnerable to me is dangerous. After 8 years of marriage, a couple years of close friendship/dating before that, and three kids, somehow I still might hurt her. Apparently, I'm just waiting around and dealing with this bullshit looking for the perfect opportunity to catch her at her weakest, at which point I'll just be on my way, leaving her broken and spilled out with her life in a shambles.
Amazingly, though my wife's most important expression of love is talking, I can't initiate a conversation with her about this. I have tried, bringing up things I heard from friends about how people fixed their marriages, television stuff I saw, things I heard on the radio, but she won't respond. She doesn't want to bring it up because she doesn't want to fix it. Who would? I mean, I don't like to do dishes. With the passion that dogs have for licking their balls, I hate to rinse food off of plates. Why? I don't know; I just hate it. Do I want to go to counseling to learn how to love doing the dishes? Fuck no! I hate doing dishes and I don't want to love doing dishes! Those two things sort of go together; they make sense. So why would my wife want to learn how to love physical intimacy? Especially with the fucking mess of a man she's married to?
I eat. I am an eating machine. The most important aspect of food to me is how it tastes. Whether it's good or bad for me, whether it's raw or cooked, what color it is…none of those things matter. If it tastes good and I enjoy the texture, it is my heroine. I lost a bunch of weight a couple years ago, eighty pounds to be exact. I was working out like a madman and religiously governing my intake of food and supplements. I drank at least a gallon of water a day and looked forward to the alarm clock in the morning so I could get on the treadmill and try to reduce my minutes per mile. I worshipped at the altar of fitness and burned incense to the gods of sexiness, seeking the favor of the missus. When it didn't work, I gave up. I have gained back about 45 pounds, and if you told me my dick would fall off if I didn't lose it again, I couldn't possibly care less. Was I weaned too early, Dr. Freud? Does it have something to do with the 14 year old Forrest Gump who tried to get me to suck his dick when I was five? Whatever. All I know is that food makes me feel good and the woman to whom I committed my life eight years ago doesn't. She just fucking doesn't. And experience tells me she never will. My commitment was unconditional love, and it's a commitment I will never break. A true man keeps his promises, no matter what. Just ask Wade, he's a real man. You can keep all of that conquering-as-much-pussy-as-you-possibly-can crap. Keep hiding behind it and pretending it makes you masculine, you orally self-satisfying, sexuality-questioning, latently homosexual, little boy. I'm in it for the long run.
Wade, Bam, and I talk on a weekly basis (in fact, they're probably the only people who will read this). We always talk about the blogs and laugh, yada, yada, yada. But the one thing we all agree on is that this is cathartic. It feels good. It gets this crap off your chest and leaves it somewhere else for others to laugh at (or in this case, cry). So if you wonder what this is all about, that's it. It's just something that was on my chest, and now it's here. Enjoy. Make fun. I laugh about it to keep from crying.
- George Burns
Let me start by saying that I haven't kissed my wife in years. YEARS, you read it right. Don't get me wrong, she gave me a nice little peck before she left this morning. But I'm talking about kissing.
My wife is a beautiful woman. She is an amazing mother, and she gives me every verbal indication that she loves me deeply. Those verbal indications are important to me; I like receiving affirmation from my wife. My wife takes care of my home with the passion and commitment of someone who gets paid $1,000,000 an hour to do it. She works her ass off 8 hours a day to support her family. She is an awesome wife, a gift from God, and any man would be lucky to have her. So why am I crying myself to sleep at night?
Notice that the previous paragraph gives no indication of physical intimacy. When I say physical intimacy, I'm not only talking about sex, I'm talking about physical contact…period…just touching of any kind. The reason there is no indication of physical intimacy is because there is none in my house, unless you count the kisses I lavish on my children (to their dismay). There are a bunch of men who would kill to have a wife like mine – a woman unconcerned with foreplay, passion, cuddling of any kind (naked or clothed), hugging, or even kissing. I'm not your average dude.
My wife has issues with intimacy. She has no problem with sex, but feels too much surrender during lovemaking. See, intimacy without complete surrender is not intimacy at all. Now, think about that statement for a moment. Read it again; roll it around in your mouth and see how it tastes; run it up the flag pole and see who salutes, etc. My wife isn't interested in true intimacy because she can't make herself vulnerable to me. Making herself vulnerable to me is dangerous. After 8 years of marriage, a couple years of close friendship/dating before that, and three kids, somehow I still might hurt her. Apparently, I'm just waiting around and dealing with this bullshit looking for the perfect opportunity to catch her at her weakest, at which point I'll just be on my way, leaving her broken and spilled out with her life in a shambles.
Amazingly, though my wife's most important expression of love is talking, I can't initiate a conversation with her about this. I have tried, bringing up things I heard from friends about how people fixed their marriages, television stuff I saw, things I heard on the radio, but she won't respond. She doesn't want to bring it up because she doesn't want to fix it. Who would? I mean, I don't like to do dishes. With the passion that dogs have for licking their balls, I hate to rinse food off of plates. Why? I don't know; I just hate it. Do I want to go to counseling to learn how to love doing the dishes? Fuck no! I hate doing dishes and I don't want to love doing dishes! Those two things sort of go together; they make sense. So why would my wife want to learn how to love physical intimacy? Especially with the fucking mess of a man she's married to?
I eat. I am an eating machine. The most important aspect of food to me is how it tastes. Whether it's good or bad for me, whether it's raw or cooked, what color it is…none of those things matter. If it tastes good and I enjoy the texture, it is my heroine. I lost a bunch of weight a couple years ago, eighty pounds to be exact. I was working out like a madman and religiously governing my intake of food and supplements. I drank at least a gallon of water a day and looked forward to the alarm clock in the morning so I could get on the treadmill and try to reduce my minutes per mile. I worshipped at the altar of fitness and burned incense to the gods of sexiness, seeking the favor of the missus. When it didn't work, I gave up. I have gained back about 45 pounds, and if you told me my dick would fall off if I didn't lose it again, I couldn't possibly care less. Was I weaned too early, Dr. Freud? Does it have something to do with the 14 year old Forrest Gump who tried to get me to suck his dick when I was five? Whatever. All I know is that food makes me feel good and the woman to whom I committed my life eight years ago doesn't. She just fucking doesn't. And experience tells me she never will. My commitment was unconditional love, and it's a commitment I will never break. A true man keeps his promises, no matter what. Just ask Wade, he's a real man. You can keep all of that conquering-as-much-pussy-as-you-possibly-can crap. Keep hiding behind it and pretending it makes you masculine, you orally self-satisfying, sexuality-questioning, latently homosexual, little boy. I'm in it for the long run.
Wade, Bam, and I talk on a weekly basis (in fact, they're probably the only people who will read this). We always talk about the blogs and laugh, yada, yada, yada. But the one thing we all agree on is that this is cathartic. It feels good. It gets this crap off your chest and leaves it somewhere else for others to laugh at (or in this case, cry). So if you wonder what this is all about, that's it. It's just something that was on my chest, and now it's here. Enjoy. Make fun. I laugh about it to keep from crying.
posted by Mitch/Mike at 10/19/2005 12:08:00 PM
2 Comments:
My wife does not read my blog, but I considered printing this one out and letting her see it, I don't know. OK, reading your comment is like looking in the mirror.
Why the hell do I have to do the word verification on my own damned blog???
In more ways than one, I owe my marriage to you. You were there that one night when I was gonna tell the missus-to-be to piss off for good and you talked me out of it. You dick. 11 years later, here we all are. I gotta say, though, that the wife and I are doing a lot better these days. If only we could keep out electricity turned on.
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