He has no desire to know what I think about. He'll listen if I make him, but he doesn't actually want to know. Just like foreplay. He'll do it if I ask, but he doesn't think of it on his own and it's totally mechanical when he does. I really am very jealous of his affairs. For them he was adventurous, experimental, played games, wore costumes, opened up parts of himself that I will never, ever know. For me, I get no passion, no desire, no connection. I realize I probably don't make it easy on him, but he's the one that made me this way, he's going to have to be the one to undo it.
He used to be obsessed with his phone, waiting with baited breath every word from a stranger. He doesn't even read the ecards I send him.
We really have never been truly a happy couple. We may be content, we may enjoy each other's company, but I don't think we will ever find magic, never bliss. We had it once, then I found out he was still a great big liar and it has never come back again.
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