Clarity

Be more decisive - no more “I don’t know” answers. 

Communicate better - particularly in bed. 

Take more initiative. 

Spend more time and effort on your wife. 

Take some alone time to discover what you want. 

Study how to improve your relationship and your sex life. 

Every time you give me feedback, I know there is truth and sincerity, yet it also hurts. 

I feel lacking, not good enough at loving, at living, at listening, at expressing - at being. Being a partner, being a friend, being a person, being me.

It’s as if nothing I did before is right, and if only I could become this perfect man that there is even a remote chance of you being happy. 

I realize this is untrue and that I am overreacting. But it is as if my slow growth as an emotional being, who is learning to identify and express their emotions, is counter to what you ask of me - to be a manly, determined and undoubting man. 

Something I have never been. Something I am not sure I really want to be. 

More decisive? Yes, I’d like to be so. 

Assertive? Yes, please. 

Manly? The very word brings to mind images of dominating muscular figures with little regard for other people, let alone women. No, that is not who I want to be. 

What happened to “you’re a wuss and I like it”?

I am struggling with this, and I cannot blame you for not seeing much progress. I am still working out which parts of me I actually want to improve, I guess, and it’s time for me to take a decisive step. 

No more “I don’t know”. Even, no, particularly when I try to be careful and tactful because you may not like my answer. 

Clarity beats indecisiveness. 

No tea

Sometimes, for whatever reason, I don’t want tea.

Maybe the average man wants a cup of tea more often than me, I don’t know. It varies.

Today, you invited me for tea - well, you didn’t say that, but I suspected it. I came over ready for it, wanting to drink some hot tea because it had been a while. And yes, when I arrived you brought out the cups and the kettle.

And although the tea looked and smelled very tasty, which I’m sure it was, I suddenly didn’t feel like tea.

I said so. I tried to be polite about it, maybe that failed.

You turned around, shut me out, and muttered, “Same old song.”

I was hurt. Felt guilty about not wanting what men are said to want all the time, and apparently it’s inconceivable that sometimes I don’t.

I love tea. I love having tea with you. But sometimes I don’t feel like tea, and it’s not because of you, or the tea; I don’t love you or it any less in those moments.

It hurts, both me and you, that my ‘no’ is unacceptable.

What I want

You asked me what I want from you, and I got confused. What do I want from you?

Apparently I have been giving mixed signals at best, and no signals at worst, since we married. As if a sense of “we’ve got her, no need to put in any effort anymore” has become the norm. 

I don’t want that. But I also cannot, in true honesty, claim that I have been completely innocent of that accussation. 

As a partner, I have been taking you for granted. As a friend. As a woman, perhaps even as the mother to our child. It was never my intention, but it happened somewhere along the way. 

So what do I want from you?

It is difficult for me to feel what I feel, and what I want; I know that now. And such a big question deserves honest answers, so I will begin my search within here, on these virtual pages. 

I want, no, I need you to be ruthfully honest with me about my flaws and the things I need to improve. Especially when it hurts, because that means it is true and without you I would never have known or be confronted by that flaw or personal failure. 

I need to share laughs with you. Yes, it is a defense mechanism that at times prevents me from facing issues, but it is also my coping, our bond, and sometimes the only bright spot amongst the troubles. 

I want you to be proud of me. Of the husband I am, your lover, your friend. Proud of what I do to help you in ways both large and small, of what I do for others, of what I do for me. This is a selfish want, I will readily admit, and a lot of this is me needing to be proud of myself, but there are times when I feel that I disappointed you for reasons I cannot fathom, and it is the worst feeling I have had. I want to make you proud, I want to see the sparkle in your eyes when you look upon me. 

Which, I guess, is once again about me and what I need to do. Work for your love and affection. 

Once again I have turned myself around and not answered your question. Let me try again. 

I want you to kiss me back when we wake up and when we go to sleep.

I want you to feel pleasure from our intimacy, building up from experiences we both gain and from listening to each other. 

I want to share your joy and your pain. Your pleasure, your hurt, your sorrows, so that your pain lessens and your joy expands. 

I want to go out and do things together; hobbies, going to restaurants, visit museums, spend time both as a family and as a couple. 

You and me. Getting back to us, not just as parents or accidental roommates, but taking time for each other and bringing joy and light. 

And I realize that there is much to do on my part. 

I want to do this. I need to. For the sake of you, of me, and of us. 

Hearing you

Turn back the time 

To the days when 

Our love was new
Do you remember?

 - Relight my fire

Six years.

That is how long I have not posted on this blog; the place where I once promised to lay bare my soul so that a certain bird could read it, feel it, feed on it, and be inspired by it.

I starved her, and a rift grew between us that I now hope to bridge. Regrets or apologies are logical but unhelpful; the main thing is to return to this blog and restart with the input.

So here I am, and here you are, dear reader. Know that this is mainly for the attention of one person, but hopefully others find something of value within these writings.

To my wife, the solar bird; mother to our little white raven.

This is me, returning to our roots. Re-igniting the flames of our connection, hopefully granting you inspiration, insight, mayhap some lost passion.