My time for writing is limited for now, because I just don't have the kind of privacy at home I'd need to write the things I want to write about. My wife gets in her own world with her computer games and TV shows, and even though she's sitting right beside me on the couch she really doesn't know I'm there. But she seems to have a sixth sense about when I'm wanting to do something naughty, or just write about it. Then she's all up on me, looking over my shoulder to see what I'm doing.
But in a few weeks baseball season will start and I'll become a baseball widower. We have a local, Single A farm team that she has season tickets for, so when they're playing at home I'll have a lot more time to myself. Even with my niece living with us, I'll be able to write more during the home games.
My wife is from Germany, and hadn't had any exposure to baseball until we were home on leave after we got married (I was in the Army, stationed in Germany, when I met her. I'll write about that later.) She took to it the first game she ever saw, and since she was watching TBS she became hooked on the Atlanta Braves. That's been over 20 years ago, and now she's as knowledgable about baseball as anybody I know.
I'm not really big into baseball myself, though I do follow the Yankees in the post season, but I used to love going to the local games. Three years ago we got season tickets for the first time, and I was excited about going and socializing with some friends of ours who were going. The first month or so was fun, and I even picked up a few things I didn't know before. My wife ruined the experience for me, though, because she became obsessed with getting souvenirs from players, especially broken baseball bats.
It started innocently enough: one evening a player on the opposing team cracked his bat while he was up. He got another bat, and the bat boy in their dugout put the cracked one in a corner for later disposal. One of the guys we sat with at the game told my wife "I'm getting that bat!" Apparently the player was considered a big prospect, so having something of his from Single A could be a big deal later if he was a major leaguer with cred. Near the end of the game, he went to sit by their dugout and my wife went with him. Right at the last out he went to the outside corner of the dugout, and as the player came back in he yelled out the guys name and asked if he could have the broken bat. The player said sure, and handed it to him.
The wife was hooked. From that night on, she had to stay until the end of the game (often after 10 p.m. when I really wanted to be home by 9) to try to get someone's bat. All she would talk about during the game was trying to get a bat, or being pissed if some kids were sitting in the seat she wanted to be in by the 9th inning. If kids got in front of her and got the bat first, she'd be frustrated to tears on the way home because they got "her" bat. There were times older boys would be pushing up against her trying to get over her back to get to the player first, but the wife is stout and she would hold them off.
(Honestly, those boys were in the wrong in those situations, and I almost got into a fight with one guy who was practically pushing my wife over the retaining wall trying to get around her. I pulled him off her and had him by the collar with my fist drawn back when I realized he was probably 15 or 16, though quite big, and that nothing good would come of this. The point is, the wife's needless obsession put her in those spots to begin with.)
I got fed up with the whole thing, and finally just told my wife I didn't want to go to the games anymore. I told her it was about the players (some of whom were really rude to the fans), but that it was also about staying until the end of the game every night when I needed to get some sleep. She wanted me to go to at least some of the games, so we agreed that during the week we'd leave by 9, and on the weekends we'd stay until the end. I still couldn't stand being there with her,listening to her go on and on about the players. I couldn't get into a conversation about anything else with our friends because she'd butt in to say something completely unrelated about baseball. I tried to explain to her that a big part of my not wanting to go was because of her obsession, but it made little impression on her.
And of course it didn't take long until our agreement to leave at 9 was forgotten. It started with a "can we please just stay one more inning tonight," then within a week or so she'd nicely ask if we could stay until the end "just this once" (which was never just once). If I said "yes" she'd be satisfied, but if I stood my ground and said "no", she'd be pissed and the rest of the night would be uncomfortable silence. Although compared to the normal baseball-centric monlogues, the silence was blessed relief!
Finally, I stopped going altogether, and she stopped asking. She could stay until the end of the game if I didn't go (and never mind that it still kept me up) and before long our spare room started filling with baseballs and cracked bats, which she would spend a good thirty minutes sorting and tagging. She'd come home from work to sort out which ball or minor league cards she was taking to that day's game for autographs. When the local team was away, she'd sit on the couch watching a game on TV, following another game on her computer, and a small radio tuned to the station for the play-by-play of our team!
If I were feeling horny, I'd try to give my subtle signals (like touching and kissing, and saying "let's have sex"), but she would be too wrapped up in the games to pay attention. We wouldn't even get to bed until 10 or later, and then if I made a move I'd get "It's too late for that now," like somehow I should have done something earlier. When, out of frustration, I'd point out I'd tried all night, she'd get defensive and pout, and say "fine, I just won't watch baseball anymore since you're so against it." Of course that would be forgotten (and it's not like that's what I was wanting anyway), and the same scene would play over and over again.
I finally just stopped trying. I'd get the occassional roll on a Saturday morning (and then it would be "hurry up, we have things to do"), but more often than not I'd be left frustrated. Of course I'd jack off (every morning, like cock-work) (see what I did there?) (No, that wasn't a typo), and that was fun and would relieve the tension, but I still wanted sex with her. I just hated the constant rejection.
That was the year we celebrated 20 years of wedded bliss. By our actual anniversary date, I was fed up with baseball, and with her. We went to Philadelphia to get matching tattoos and just to sight-see (another long story I may or may not tell some day), and on the big day, when we were in our hotel room mid-day, I wanted some celebratory nookie. We'd talked about taking a nap (it had been a long day) so I figured we'd knock one out before drifting off to sleep. She spent 45 minutes on her laptop looking up stats from a number of major and minor league games from the night before, then got in bed and said "I'm tired," rolled over and went to sleep.
I've known since our third or fourth year of marriage that it was a mistake, and that I'm just not that faithful kind of guy. It's not her fault, I just don't want the same sex all the time. She's made it clear whenever I brought up the subject that she has no interest in going beyond the most basic, normal sex. She'll give me head, but rarely lets me cum in her mouth and never swallows. We've done anal, but it's not something either of us considers a great deal of fun. I mean, it's okay, but I have to be in the mood for it and I rarely am. Another woman in bed with us? Forget it. I told her I'd even be willing to do MFM (I didn't tell her that I actually lusted after the idea), and that I'd consider the other guy just like one of the toys for her pleasure, but nope. She won't even consider it.
The point is, I've known for some time that my married sex life would be a bit boring for the rest of my life, but was okay with it. It was on that day, though, that a lot of my passion and desire for the wife died. Things have gotten better since then, but I still find myself less willing to initiate sex than I'd been previously. Later that same summer I started a sexual relationship with another woman, and that really drove home how much intimacy and passion I was missing with the wife. But I will tell that story another time.
This started out as just a quick post to explain that I wouldn't get to post a lot until baseball season started. Whew! I feel a lot better getting that off my chest!
But in a few weeks baseball season will start and I'll become a baseball widower. We have a local, Single A farm team that she has season tickets for, so when they're playing at home I'll have a lot more time to myself. Even with my niece living with us, I'll be able to write more during the home games.
My wife is from Germany, and hadn't had any exposure to baseball until we were home on leave after we got married (I was in the Army, stationed in Germany, when I met her. I'll write about that later.) She took to it the first game she ever saw, and since she was watching TBS she became hooked on the Atlanta Braves. That's been over 20 years ago, and now she's as knowledgable about baseball as anybody I know.
I'm not really big into baseball myself, though I do follow the Yankees in the post season, but I used to love going to the local games. Three years ago we got season tickets for the first time, and I was excited about going and socializing with some friends of ours who were going. The first month or so was fun, and I even picked up a few things I didn't know before. My wife ruined the experience for me, though, because she became obsessed with getting souvenirs from players, especially broken baseball bats.
It started innocently enough: one evening a player on the opposing team cracked his bat while he was up. He got another bat, and the bat boy in their dugout put the cracked one in a corner for later disposal. One of the guys we sat with at the game told my wife "I'm getting that bat!" Apparently the player was considered a big prospect, so having something of his from Single A could be a big deal later if he was a major leaguer with cred. Near the end of the game, he went to sit by their dugout and my wife went with him. Right at the last out he went to the outside corner of the dugout, and as the player came back in he yelled out the guys name and asked if he could have the broken bat. The player said sure, and handed it to him.
The wife was hooked. From that night on, she had to stay until the end of the game (often after 10 p.m. when I really wanted to be home by 9) to try to get someone's bat. All she would talk about during the game was trying to get a bat, or being pissed if some kids were sitting in the seat she wanted to be in by the 9th inning. If kids got in front of her and got the bat first, she'd be frustrated to tears on the way home because they got "her" bat. There were times older boys would be pushing up against her trying to get over her back to get to the player first, but the wife is stout and she would hold them off.
(Honestly, those boys were in the wrong in those situations, and I almost got into a fight with one guy who was practically pushing my wife over the retaining wall trying to get around her. I pulled him off her and had him by the collar with my fist drawn back when I realized he was probably 15 or 16, though quite big, and that nothing good would come of this. The point is, the wife's needless obsession put her in those spots to begin with.)
I got fed up with the whole thing, and finally just told my wife I didn't want to go to the games anymore. I told her it was about the players (some of whom were really rude to the fans), but that it was also about staying until the end of the game every night when I needed to get some sleep. She wanted me to go to at least some of the games, so we agreed that during the week we'd leave by 9, and on the weekends we'd stay until the end. I still couldn't stand being there with her,listening to her go on and on about the players. I couldn't get into a conversation about anything else with our friends because she'd butt in to say something completely unrelated about baseball. I tried to explain to her that a big part of my not wanting to go was because of her obsession, but it made little impression on her.
And of course it didn't take long until our agreement to leave at 9 was forgotten. It started with a "can we please just stay one more inning tonight," then within a week or so she'd nicely ask if we could stay until the end "just this once" (which was never just once). If I said "yes" she'd be satisfied, but if I stood my ground and said "no", she'd be pissed and the rest of the night would be uncomfortable silence. Although compared to the normal baseball-centric monlogues, the silence was blessed relief!
Finally, I stopped going altogether, and she stopped asking. She could stay until the end of the game if I didn't go (and never mind that it still kept me up) and before long our spare room started filling with baseballs and cracked bats, which she would spend a good thirty minutes sorting and tagging. She'd come home from work to sort out which ball or minor league cards she was taking to that day's game for autographs. When the local team was away, she'd sit on the couch watching a game on TV, following another game on her computer, and a small radio tuned to the station for the play-by-play of our team!
If I were feeling horny, I'd try to give my subtle signals (like touching and kissing, and saying "let's have sex"), but she would be too wrapped up in the games to pay attention. We wouldn't even get to bed until 10 or later, and then if I made a move I'd get "It's too late for that now," like somehow I should have done something earlier. When, out of frustration, I'd point out I'd tried all night, she'd get defensive and pout, and say "fine, I just won't watch baseball anymore since you're so against it." Of course that would be forgotten (and it's not like that's what I was wanting anyway), and the same scene would play over and over again.
I finally just stopped trying. I'd get the occassional roll on a Saturday morning (and then it would be "hurry up, we have things to do"), but more often than not I'd be left frustrated. Of course I'd jack off (every morning, like cock-work) (see what I did there?) (No, that wasn't a typo), and that was fun and would relieve the tension, but I still wanted sex with her. I just hated the constant rejection.
That was the year we celebrated 20 years of wedded bliss. By our actual anniversary date, I was fed up with baseball, and with her. We went to Philadelphia to get matching tattoos and just to sight-see (another long story I may or may not tell some day), and on the big day, when we were in our hotel room mid-day, I wanted some celebratory nookie. We'd talked about taking a nap (it had been a long day) so I figured we'd knock one out before drifting off to sleep. She spent 45 minutes on her laptop looking up stats from a number of major and minor league games from the night before, then got in bed and said "I'm tired," rolled over and went to sleep.
I've known since our third or fourth year of marriage that it was a mistake, and that I'm just not that faithful kind of guy. It's not her fault, I just don't want the same sex all the time. She's made it clear whenever I brought up the subject that she has no interest in going beyond the most basic, normal sex. She'll give me head, but rarely lets me cum in her mouth and never swallows. We've done anal, but it's not something either of us considers a great deal of fun. I mean, it's okay, but I have to be in the mood for it and I rarely am. Another woman in bed with us? Forget it. I told her I'd even be willing to do MFM (I didn't tell her that I actually lusted after the idea), and that I'd consider the other guy just like one of the toys for her pleasure, but nope. She won't even consider it.
The point is, I've known for some time that my married sex life would be a bit boring for the rest of my life, but was okay with it. It was on that day, though, that a lot of my passion and desire for the wife died. Things have gotten better since then, but I still find myself less willing to initiate sex than I'd been previously. Later that same summer I started a sexual relationship with another woman, and that really drove home how much intimacy and passion I was missing with the wife. But I will tell that story another time.
This started out as just a quick post to explain that I wouldn't get to post a lot until baseball season started. Whew! I feel a lot better getting that off my chest!
Great start! That baseball obsession would get old quick. I feel for you.
ReplyDeleteFunny thing...I just started getting into baseball. Not sure how long this will last, mainly because my partner hates baseball and hates it more when I have a couple of beers. Go Giants! lol.
ReplyDeleteWow, just reading about your wife's lack of interest in your marriage makes me sad.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry you had to go thru that, it sounds awful and very lonely.
Thanks, monkey girl. It's funny, but when you're right in it, on a day-to-day basis it doesn't bother you that much. It's just more of the background noise, you know? It's just the times that something happens and it hits you in the gut what you're missing.
ReplyDeleteShe's not the only one to blame; I am the cause of some of her pulling away, for sure. Since that summer things have gotten marginally better, but I can see us heading down the same road. I might be able to pull it back on track by talking to her about my feelings, but really I'm kind of looking forward to the time I'll have to myself when she's at the games.