Sensual Self-Healing: It All Came Crashing Down

  • I knew my marriage over the evening my partner had come to bed from his shower. The room was dark. Only the light from a nearby street light shined through our bedroom window. As he slid in next to me, he released a deep sigh and said, “I guess I’ll sleep with my wife.”


    “Huh!?” with the Scooby Doo sound effect.  I was immediately confused to the purpose of my entire life. As though to say, “Wait, what?”


    Where I’m from, I am highly sought. Being the southern belle that I am through and through *BATS EYELASHES*. Many have crossed the threshold of my grandfather’s front porch to call upon the Qu33n. If being a crush was the same as being crushed, I’d be crushed to death. 


    Now, here I was, that country girl from a small town in Mississippi, one of the most desired women I know, sleeping with a man who only guessed he should sleep with me and seemingly, only because I was his wife. I have never been short on suitors. I was used to being desired, pursued, and courted in the most southern traditional fashion.


    I wasn’t having it. I wasn’t having it. I wasn’t having it at all. Nope, nope, and nope. You know boys bent the corner on bicycles to see about me, honey. Whatever he had going on had nothing to do with me, and I didn’t want any parts of the pending self destruction that waited on the other side of that monster statement. In the words of my grandmother, “Oh, that’s so ugly.”


    It wasn’t something that I wanted to incorporate into my reality. In retrospect, it was truly the wake-up call I needed to all the other shit I had been ignoring. It was the one thing I needed to hear.  I had already accepted too much that just wasn’t worthy of the Qu33n. I refused to add “undesirable to partner” to the list and continue my life in such a way. Especially, when I knew I could walk out our front door and neighborhood eyes would fall lustfully upon me. It’s true what they say, whenever you settle, you always end up with way less than you settled for; my marriage was a testament to that truth.


    Everyday I left that house some man would approach me to ask if I was married, whether we could just be friends, or boldly ask for my number. He didn’t know that though. In fact, I’d venture to believe that he had no clue who I was, because even that was true for me. 


    If we weren’t fucking enthusiatically, I had decided that we would not be fucking at all, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever again. To be transparently honest, I was disgusted and couldn’t bring myself to find him remotely sexually attractive. I felt all of that in the instant those words left his lips.


    That was the last night my partner and I ever shared a bed. The next day, I packed my things and moved into the guest bedroom with my two children. There we slept for the time we remained in that home.


    Even as I was making this stand, I did feel incredibly unattractive. Yet, I knew it had nothing to do with how attractive folks actually found me to be. I was the mother of a newborn who had recently lost my own mom to her three year bout with cervical cancer. I was feeling as though someone had hijacked my body for a second time, and lost without my best friend to comfort me.  I was going through a helluva lot only to have my partner try and exasperate that experience with that wildly insensitive statement that was so out of line yet, right on time. It was definitely time for me to exit that relationship.


    Needless to say, I eventually found out why having sex with me had become a lackluster option. Then all the weird behavior from the months before suddenly made sense. 


    For instance, months prior as my mom literally lay on her deathbed, my partner had given me such a hard time about booking a $700 flight to bid her farewell when I knew we had the money. We were by no means struggling by a long shot. Plus, he had additional money saved toward the house we were planning to buy. I later discovered he had been saving the money for a getaway with his side boo.


    Another time, I called him to talk to him about my mom a few days before she passed, he told me to call him back tomorrow because he had to work. I found it odd because it was only 10pm and he didn’t work until the following evening at 3pm. That particular night, things were heavy. I needed someone to talk to so I called my ex instead.


    Then one afternoon, while we were talking, he kissed me. This may not seem so odd except the kiss was so different as though he had been kissing someone else which could have not been true except it was true. I just knew he had never kissed me that way before. I didn’t know how to react. I just stood there in shock and didn’t kiss him back. I couldn’t kiss him back. I was literally frozen in shock.


    Whatever happened after that was just going through the motions because I had already decided that I would not be returning to that situation. I love myself too much for that.


    Qu33n Victoria regularly blogs at prettypinklotusbud.org. CashApp: $PrttyPnkLtsBd 

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