I’m a wife and SAHM in my early thirties. I have an almost three-year old son. I’m starting to think my marriage has hit the seven-year itch, if that’s even a real thing. I’m also a little obsessed with Fifty Shades of Grey. And Christian Grey. I know it’s just a book and he is just a fictional character from a book. Well I sort of know. Mom friends tell me this all the time. “Jen, that’s not real life.” But why can’t the sex parts be real life? Why can’t those be real for me?
Fifty Shades was a sort of sexual awakening for me. This is not the sex I’ve ever had with my husband, but it’s the sex I want to be having with my husband. I’m not talking about BDSM. Whips and chains and crops don’t excite me. But I am talking about the hot and sweaty, throw me up against a wall or bend me over a table, dominant man take charge, skilled with his fingers, knows exactly how a woman’s body works type of sex. And well, this isn’t exactly happening in my 7th year of marriage. I don’t want my husband to make love to me. I want him to fuck me.
Why wasn’t this book written when I was in my early twenties? The time before I met my husband, where I causally dated and slept around. Maybe if I realized who I was and what I wanted in the bedroom then, I would have spent more time exploring my sexuality before I committed it to the same man for life.
Now I need to tell my husband about this new revelation. He should be excited. Time to spice things up…break out of our comfort zones. What husband wouldn’t want to hear such talk from his wife? What man doesn’t want a woman who wants to have sex all the time? Apparently not my husband. The one who would rather watch the same reruns of The Big Bang Theory over and over again on the couch after the little one has gone to sleep rather than throw his wife over his shoulder all caveman-like and then fuck her brains out. My husband who responds with, “When have you ever known me to be aggressive?”
This isn’t completely his fault. I haven’t exactly been sexually aggressive before, so he has to get used to this new me. Maybe I have to be aggressive to get him to be aggressive. I’ve ordered sex toys. Sex toys that still remain in the box inside his closet. I’ve mentioned countless times about new positions and spontaneous sex on various surfaces in our house. Why not bathroom sex in a public place? Role-playing perhaps. Has any of this happened? No! What about hotel balcony sex the past few times we have gone on vacation alone? Nope!
All he does is try to gently kiss and nudge me when we get into bed for the night. I’m sick of gentle. I want to feel passion and excitement. Why can’t he initiate this? By this time (and he’s had countless opportunities by now), I’m done. Don’t look at me. Don’t touch me. Then he gets offended when I roll over to go to sleep without kissing him back. I pretend to be tired or fake a headache. How cliché. Sometimes I just ignore him to read on my iPad. I want to yell at him, “If you want a kiss, then stop being a little baby, pin me down, and kiss me.” “If you want my attention, rip the iPad out of my hand, throw it on the floor, and climb on top of me!” I’m getting tired of trying to get him to take charge. Maybe I should just be blunt, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I just want him to do this without me having to always tell him. Is that really too much to ask?
I’m not giving up yet, but I can’t pretend this doesn’t worry me. What if we can’t make this work? What if we aren’t sexually compatible anymore? Should this be a deal breaker? I don’t want it to be, but I’m too young to give up on having my mind blown in the bedroom. Maybe I need to call that sex therapist I’ve been Googling.
And so I keep reading and alluding to better sex and hoping my husband eventually gets it. My iBooks app is becoming a library of porn. Porn for sexually frustrated SAHMs.
(This post is part of our Blunt Talk About Sex series)
Jen Schwartz, expert postpartum depression survivor and real, bad-ass mom is the founder of the blog, The Medicated Mommy. After kicking postpartum depression’s ass, she learned the importance of accepting herself as the mom she is (one who pops an antidepressant every morning), not the mom she thought she was supposed to be (domestic goddess and Pinterest’s mom of the year). Jen is here to tell you, you’re not alone. Forget about the mom you think you should be. Tell all those “shoulds” to go f**k off! The mom you are is amazing and she is enough. Jen is a published author, influencer at Mogul, and regular contributor for The Huffington Post, Thrive Global, The Mighty, Motherlucker, Red Tricycle, and Suburban Misfit Mom. Her writing has also been featured in Scary Mommy, Mamalode, Kveller, Blunt Moms, and more.