The night before last, I came home from work in a pretty terrible mood. I fully expected DH to make it worse because that’s just what he does. He was actually pretty laid back and we joked around at dinner time. I told him I’d had a really shitty day and thanked him for cheering me up.
That’s about when he started to blow it. He seemed to think he was on a roll and *cheerfully* had a couple more drinks before my son was in bed. He was starting to slur by 7:30. Saying stupid shit and laughing at his own moronic jokes. Turns out he was so chill because he’s been slipping out to the garage while home with our son and toking up. On top of that, he ALWAYS starts drinking around 5. Every day. Like that’s not bad enough, let’s impair his judgement even more while he’s in charge of our autistic preschooler.
I don’t have a problem with pot as long as it’s in moderation and done at the appropriate time. We agreed not to partake until after our son is in bed for the night, but now DH just slips outside whenever. I can’t trust him to do anything responsibly. Not one damn thing and I’m stuck because I have to work. What am I supposed to do what that? Everyone thinks he has it all together because we don’t have anyone close enough to see him at his worst—except our drunk neighbor who’s practically his boyfriend. The bromance is just nauseating.
So after DS is in bed, my dipshit husband walks into the room and drops his pants. Sits bare-assed on the couch and starts moaning and rubbing himself. “Let’s fuck.”
I have never been so repulsed in my life. I mean, not by my partner. I’ve had to talk myself into sex when not in the mood, but it’s never been that feeling of absolute revulsion before, which is why I felt disgusted with myself for trying to do “the right thing” as his wife and giving him what he wanted. It had been at least a month. I felt I had to try. But it was horrible in every way.
It was a clumsy attempt at being edgy and dominant and it was just degrading and annoying.
There was a time when he treated me like I was so special that dirty talk and name calling was a hot, playful fantasy. Now it just feels like I’m taking my clothes off for someone who’s just treating me like trash, the way he always does.
I don’t even love him anymore. I guess I just missed the person he used to be for a while. The person he managed to pretend to be for a few years, anyway.
At this point, I don’t care if he loves me either. I just want him to care enough to do right by our son, but all he sees is himself and his own needs.