I'm 35, I'm married with two children, full house, no matter who you ask. Only here in this bowl I increasingly want to drown.
Generally, of course, many are jealous of me. I'm sure if my friends read this, they'll never guess that it was mine. From our husband story sounds idyllic: met at 20, married at 21, both each other's first. Gave birth to a son first, then sending him to school, and a daughter – all according to plan, wisely, correctly. Both have a good job, a decent income. Flowers and "I love you" without any reasons and reminders. Even with my husband's parents I have a normal relationship – they are lovely people and, most importantly, live far away. When we celebrate another anniversary of the wedding and invite the guests at the table pouring inspired toast: "You managed to carry through the years...", "Your love gets stronger with time only...", "You are an example for all...", that's all.
Beautiful picture, Yes? And now a bit of reality.
Thirty eight million five hundred seventy four thousand three hundred fifty four
I want sex. Normal, human (preferably animal) sex, about which so much is said and written. I was never and I repeat never! – in life.
Married virgins – can you imagine what that means? Two inexperienced, frightened people on a huge bed. As in the desert. Then – 14 years of marriage and low diversity. Of course, we learned to make love. But sex – no.I mean, I know that if you love someone and value the marriage, it would be good periodically to go to bed and do your duty. I go and do it. And during this wonderful act of love I think I'll have time this weekend for a manicure. It ends quickly, my husband kisses me and falls asleep satisfied.
He even has an admirable trait: to love what is already there. For example, the country. He doesn't need mozzarella and the Turkish coast, and even more exotic shores even more. For 14 years we were together in Turkey (five times), Egypt (five) and Czech Republic (twice in the same hotel). I visited 24 countries and all without a husband. Went with friends, with mom, with his eldest son, to travel, to the conference. Mastered couchsurfing.com and can safely move into someone else's Thai room "four by four". Because I live interesting. Want new, I want to try, to learn, to know. I'm in the city busy all the time – the theatre, exhibition, concert. Husband with me, of course, sometimes out. But then such a relief coming home on the sofa, next time do not want to torment him.
His other joy, once and for all approved. New year at a friend's cottage, with a barbecue and dance, children. Weekend at home watching TV, or at least in a nearby Park. May – back to the country, but at mother-in-law, and also with barbecue. Fridays — bar with a few colleagues in June – the kayak with the same friend, whose New year. One Friday her husband came home excited, half an hour was told they colleagues were not able to get to your bar and had to go to another across the street. A scandal, a shock, a sensation!
Over the years we have learned a little talk. Discuss what you discuss, spouses (hate that word!) – repair, children, school, bills, what's for dinner. I tried to tell about his travels – no response. The husband meets me at the airport and right there, seem to forget that I went somewhere, it was asked whether safely reached. And I am not very interesting to listen how they had a fire in their canoe camp and how this time was mosquitoes.
In General, in the fifth year of marriage I started platonically fall in love with the actors and the characters of the series. Fantasizing about them, watching erotic dreams, we came up with different exciting history – worked in 25 years what normal girls do at 15. Then switched to real people. I'll love to coach his son, fantasize about the chief. Everything is still Platonic, without any steps forward without suffering.
Then – on the rise: I became recklessly to flirt in the aircraft, exhibitions, yoga, Yes, even to coach his son. And the response is always there. At my age I look younger – thanks to yoga and a passionate desire to live. Dress the part – so as to catch what is called live bait. Men approach, meet, meet to flirt, name is continue. But I only get a portion of attention – and home to her husband in silence.
To change I'm afraid. First, can't lie. If the husband will guess and ask a direct question, I crack. But if not guess I will every time suffer, inventing the next "trip" or "friend". And secondly, if they wanted sex, I understand that this is not limited. I will definitely fall in love will begin to suffer, to torment yourself and others, something to wait for, something to hope for and to go everywhere with the phone, pouring his tears. For what? And does it deserve a husband?
It's not his fault that we were married before, not knowing each other. Not my fault that they were so different. Not my fault that loves giving and kayaks more than the Maldives and the snorkeling. In fact, because the country is no worse than Maldives villas, even more honest and clearer. All pulling me in illusory worlds, and he stands firmly on his feet (when not lying on the sofa). He's probably better than me. Loves children, gets up early to deliver them to the schools-kindergartens, always remembers our anniversary and gives me 25 red roses and birthday decorations, and those that love it. So now I can not drag her husband, for example, to therapy and there just to dump on the whole who. It will ruin his life. He has no idea. Believes that we have a wonderful family that puts our photos on the social network, is proud. No, I can't do that to him.
And yet... I feel a little bit more- and fail. One night with a fan sex will end on foreign soil, and then everything goes to hell. I'm trying a last effort, trying to convince myself that this or something like this actually live all. But what if not? What if I just calm myself and both of us were deprived of chance for a new, better life without sorrow? Maybe, after all, to break the proverbial "full Cup", if it are these cracks?