A peek under the covers
Posted by BaggyBlue
12th Sep 2012

Hi there.

Shall we take a peek under the covers?

It's bedtime, and as a sufferer of depression, I am relieved at last to be able to legitimately be in my bed, pulling the covers up, which is more or less where I have spent most of the day wishing I could be - but I'm on the journey of recovery, and the days spent under the covers are, thankfully, few and far between at the moment. Don't get me wrong, it still happens - but normally in the middle of the afternoon when I know I can get away with it. Mind you, when that happens, it's a real struggle to get back downstairs before The Wife gets back from her day, and pretend all is fine...

Anyway, back to bed. Legitimately. And the anti-depresants are working their somnabulistic magic, and it's almost as if a switch has been flipped - and I'm about to just shut down, at last, peace...

I feel a hand on my thigh. Oh God, it's The Wife. She's just stroking me for comfort - I think. She is a Rock, an absolute Tower Of Strength, and I am so, so scared of upsetting her... and yet I stiffen (not like THAT, not at the moment). "I'm sorry" she says, and turns away and picks up her book. For the umpty-teenth night in a row, We haven't had sex for about 4 months now.

So what's stopping me? My Wife is beautiful, I love her with all my heart and soul, and yet... there's something about sex that feels like there's a brick wall there. And to a certain extent, there is - the depressionwall. But there's more to it than that - there's performance anxiety. Imagine, any healthy well-adjusted sexually healthy men out there reading this, that you had been denied sex for, oh let's say 4 months. What's going to happen? You're probably going to go off like the fireworks at the Olympic Games Opening Ceremony - spectacularly, but pretty quickly. So, whenever there seems like there might be a sniff of naughtiness in the air, I ignore it. I pretend I haven't noticed the candles, or the hair let down, or the perfume, or the,,, eventually my Wife gives up trying. Part of me is sad at this, but most of me is relieved. It's a problem I don't have to deal with, for the time being. I realise that this is just saving up problems for the future, but... that's in the future. I'll deal with it (or not) later.

A few nights later. It's bedtime, and as a sufferer of depression, I am relieved at last to be able to legitimately be in my bed, pulling the covers up. I've actually had a run of two or three "good" (i.e. not completely hideous) days. We have managed to go out for a couple of pints in the evening, and we've had a nice dinner at home, the candles were a nice touch, and my Wife's heady perfume fills the bedroom. I smile as her hand strokes my thigh.

You know what? Fireworks can be spectacular.

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