So, You Wanna Know about Frigidity?

The purpose of this blog is, as the title suggests, to discuss my personal pain and frustration with being married to a frigid woman. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, a “frigid” woman is one who is emotionally and physically cold. She simply does not want physical contact with her husband, especially having sex. I am sure there are frigid men out there, but I am pretty sure the overwhelming number of people that fit this description are women. I would like to differentiate between women who just have sex less as the years go by, and those that simply do not ever want to do it at all. I have read that psychologists define a “sexless” marriage as one in which the couple has sex ten times or less a year; there have been several years like that for me. Most married adults have sex, on average, between two or three times a week. I am lucky if it happens more than once a month and isn’t gawdawful. You are welcome to read, but please try to avoid slapping stereotypes and quick judgments on me or her. For those of you that are looking for something to “get your jollies,” well, I hate to disappoint you, but this blog is not it. If anything, you will read scintillating tales of people not having sex.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Never mind...back to the iceberg

In my last post, I mentioned that my wife had made a flurry of promises regarding romance and intimacy.  I thought maybe this would be a new beginning.  Well, I think I've been had.
The promised intimacy did occur -- sort of.  Well, without being intimate.  She approached it as a soldier who has to do her duty, regardless of the danger to her TV schedule.  Given how bad sex with her usually is, this experience was actually better than average.  Then again, I'm pretty sure she was not happy to be doing it; just fulfilling her obligation.
From that point, it hasn't gone well.  The proposed romantic restaurant dinner is still on, but there were a lot of attempts to back out of it.  What a shame.  Tonight, I tried to snuggle up to her.  Not anything more -- just some huddling together of the kind that pop psychologists say women really want.  Not my woman, anyway.  She shot me down because she said she wanted to concentrate on a new episode of a reality show (Top Chef Seattle, I think) and didn't want to "talk" or "be distracted."  Ouch.
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