I write often about how much Dee has changed in the past three years; it's easy to see the changes in her. In myself, though, they're harder to discern. For one, I hate change in general, so I probably deny it about myself even when it should be apparent - even when it's a change for the positive. This morning I became aware of a huge difference in myself as contrasted to my behavior in the past, and I might even be a little proud of it.
As a bit of background, since the big change that topsy-turvied just about everything about our married life, Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays have become our usual sex nights - the nights we can both look foward to in knowing that we're "gonna get some." I like it on a schedule because no matter how shitty a day might otherwise be I know that making love with Dee is just around the corner and that it'll restore a lot of my spirit when it's feeling battered. Of course the other days of the week aren't ruled out and either of us is free to ask for "it" on them too if we're horned up, but the S-T-T schedule for the most part forces us to take the time out from things that might otherwise distract us to provide for each other those glorious feelings that can only be had in our intimacy.
Last night was Sunday and Dee and I should have done "It" but we didn't. We got to the point where our clothes were off, we were on the bed with our legs entwined, but I just had to call it off when I saw how tired and run down Dee looked. She'd been saying all day that she didn't feel well, and it was obvious that she didn't. I should have acknowledged that before I was on the bed with my pants down expecting the usual Sunday evening festivities, but like the guy that I am I was thinking with my dick. And like the sweet wife that she is, there was Dee all bare beside me ready to run through the paces 'cause she knew I was looking forward to cumming in her, though she obviously just wanted to go to sleep.
I smiled and said, "Let's try again tomorrow," at that point. She smiled back as best she could through her sick look and readily agreed to the rain check so I tucked her in, kissed her goodnight, and got the dog up onto the spot on the bed where Dee likes it to be when she's falling asleep. I came back down here to the computer and waited for the daughter to go up to bed so I could jerk off, and after my solo session with some of Dee's fuck pics on the screen I went to sleep myself. It wasn't till this morning in the shower, though, that I realized how I'd changed from the bad old days.
Back then I might have offered the rain check, but I'd have resented her acceptance of it and would have come back downstairs pissy and miserable - because, back then my offer wouldn't have been sincere and I'd have made it even hoping as it rolled off my tongue that Dee would say, "No, that's OK," and spread 'em wide while summoning up her best fake smile to do her "wifely duty" anyway. Last night there really was no hope for Dee to pretend that she was eager for it. I was genuinely happy to put her to bed knowing that she'd be getting the rest that she needed.
Is it that I love her now and didn't back then? No. There was never a time after the day that we both first said I love you to each other when I didn't love her. I think the difference is that now I'm IN love with her - something I couldn't be during the bad years. I'm so glad to be here. I like how much better it is when Dee and I make love and I can feel our very souls touching each other - instead of putting on our fuck masques, doing it, and leaving each other feeling totally empty afterwards. I like being able to say, "Let's try again tomorrow," and meaning it.