I am not the kind of woman that initiates sex or sexual contact of any kind. When I had the nerve up to offer to do something that was not in my traditional sexual repertoire I went for it. The fact that I was turned down was mind numbing. Firstly because I knew how much he loved sex, secondly because I did look pretty smoking hot and thirdly because I thought he’d be shocked by my proposal that it would instantly arouse him. It did none of that. It seemed to almost make him annoyed at the thought. When we got to the house, he did exactly what he said he was going to do. He got himself undressed, slipped into bed and went to sleep. There was no other conversation, nothing along the lines of “The car would be annoying but I’d love to make love to you at home in our bed.” Nothing. It didn’t ever occur to me that possibly he could be sleeping with someone else. Can you believe that with all my paranoia that thought never entered my brain. I was sticking with the one thing I thought I could hold onto and that was that he loved me. But did he anymore? There were so many things, so many signs, so many reasons for me to leave, but every few days there was a glimmer of hope and it longed for me to stay. To hold on and get through the tough times. To stand my ground, but with not such a terribly hard line that there was no room for compromise. I was staying. I was going to make this work. What I realized then was that I felt like I was carrying us. I felt like the entirety of the success of our relationship was on my shoulders. No one person can make a relationship work. The saying about “it takes two” to make a relationship work or fail in my book rings true. He had to meet me half way. I believe with his capabilities he really was already doing everything he knew how. I don’t think he was as skilled at relationships or maneuvering through them as I was. He was doing what he thought would work and for him that’s where it ended. He wasn’t all that interested in going the extra mile. I have always had, what I guess is high expectations of men, people really. I thought that if I was willing to do it, then they should at least make the effort to do it as well. They were allowed to fail, but they had to try. Although “try” is the word I hate most in the world. To me it has always been another word for can’t, won’t not gonna, or fail. “I’ll try to make it” “I’m trying my best” “I’ll try to get back to you” Nine times out of ten “TRY” means you won’t get back to that person, if you have to try then why bother. If you are going to do something then just do it. The one thing I feel I can hold up with great pride is that I am a woman of my word. If I say I’m going to do something, you can bet your sweet betty I’m going to do it. If I say I will wait it out until you are ready or have time, but you have to throw me a bone in the interim, I mean it. If you cannot hold up your end of the bargain and refuse or are incapable of throwing that bone, then I cannot be held responsible for me not being able to complete my side of the deal. Life is a give and take and what I have noticed in a lot of my relationships is that the men I am with are more than happy to take. Take from my giving nature, take from my happiness, take from my loyalty, take from my honesty, take from my vulnerability, take from my willingness to compromise, take from my ability to stay and fight, take from my soul. And then I would think, but what about me? What about what I need? What about what I want? What about time for me in your life? What about the giving back? And then not only am I left feeling lonely, but sad, guilty, resentful and a mish mosh of other nasty feelings that only breed anger. I was becoming THAT woman. The bitter one. The one we all know who has given up hope. The one that has lost faith that she deserves better, that she deserves more, that she deserves to get just as much as she’s giving. That’s the woman he didn’t want to sleep with anymore and it made perfect sense to me.