Four times a week for all my men

Yesterday, I was home early from work and was paying bills while H watched Oprah. Dr. Oz, her medical guy, was talking about men's health issues.

Not much new there, but then: for a man's health, the optimum number of times a week for sex is four. Yup, four. (All the men in the audience are smiling, predictably.)

H says, "There. I told you so."

"What?"

"See, we should be having more sex," he says.

"Hmmmm…." I'm writing checks, juggling this month's bills.

He presses on and after a few moments of nagging, I say, "I wish that I was with someone that I WANTED to have sex with 4 times a week."

At this point, I have to state my truth or I will go crazy.

Now my gentle readers know that sex has been an issue for H and me since he got sick. He's not, er ah, functional anymore and it just makes me sad to see him look so sick. So, I have just given up on it and, for now, I'm OK with that. In fact, it's just upsets me to even try anymore.

He keeps pressing and talks about how his needs aren't getting met.

I'm trying not to go there again, but I say, "Honey, you aren't the only one that has needs that aren't getting met, sexual or otherwise, but you know, I just don't hassle you about that anymore…because I know you can't meet my needs."

"What needs?" he asks.

Here we go again. We have had this conversation at least a few times in the past month or so.

"I need a healthy, functional partner who can participate in my life with me. I have been caring for you for 11 years now and you sleep and feel sick most of the time. I have to do everything for you. At this point I am so tired, so burned out and depressed, it's all I can do to get my butt to work and when I leave work, it's all I can do to just not drive off into the sunset and not come home," I say.

Now, I don't tell him all the issues that I have…doesn't matter. He won't remember most of this tomorrow anyway.

"Honey, you're living in a fantasy that our relationship can be anything other than what it is as long as we are living together…we've talked about this many, many times," I continue. "I love you and care about you, but that part of our relationship is over for me."

"Well, that means I should leave then," he says.

"That's up to you."

"Then why am I here," he asks. "Why are you here?"

"Because I love you and want you to have a nice home in your last days."

"Thank you," he says softly, looking at the floor.

A few more back and forths about "maybe hypnosis would help" & "aren't you even willing to try anymore" & "don't you want to be helped?"

"No, I don't need to be helped, thank you," I say. "Drop it." Frankly, I don't feel like I need help. What I need is not something that he can provide.

A little while ago, H told me that unless we have sex he will commit suicide…that there is no reason for living for him. Now, I can appreciate his pain and I do agree that sex is important, but emotional blackmail doesn't work for me…it just makes me angry and confirms my desire, née my need, to get away from him.