I know you are not

watching my writings, or even me.
I know, I wish you were.

It is 1 a.m. and my husband isn't home.
He spends his nights closing the restaurant every single night.
With one maybe two days off it he's lucky.
It sucks.
Actually being alone every night.
Craving and longing for passion, affection, lust.
I crave my husbands touch but it only lasts so long.
It's never long enough for me.
He's not in a hurry but he doesn't take his time either.
And I am always left wanting more.
He is a selfish lover still.
Always has been, always will be.
We have sex every couple of days, not every day.
And it's never enough.

He works until 1-3 in the morning, and goes in at either 4 or 6 p.m.
And he sleeps until noon, or sleeps until 2-3 p.m. because he took the kids to school for me.
When he does that he will stay awake until 10 a.m. and then fall asleep until an hour before his shift.
I get a kiss good bye...no cuddles, no kisses, no sex, or make out sessions.
Just good bye.
When I would work at 3-4 a.m. I would literally stay up until 12 a.m. just to spend time with him.
Sacrifice so much of myself to please him literally.
So yes, I understand but I don't.

He says he loves me, craves me, but I don't feel a thing.
I love him, so sex with him feels different than sex with anyone else.
But that is not my point.


I don't know why I feel this way, or what is even bringing me to say this.
I just feel that Andrew will never really love me in the way that I need to be loved in order to feel completely loved if that makes sense.
His love doesn't make me feel like I was doused in it.
His love feels mediocre, and I have to remind him on holidays what someone who 'loves' you is suppose to do.
Like a child.
There is no serious thought, effort, or planning that goes into anything he does for me.


For Mothers day, we were broke.
So I reassured him that it would be okay.
All I wanted from him was a letter, a card, or a love song.
Something hand made by him would suffice because really I want to do is hear about how much he loves and appreciates me.
So two days before mothers day, I was having a rough morning with the kids.
He took them to school for me while I stayed behind due to it being so stressful.
He comes back with flowers, bath salts, and a bagel.
Little gifts for me, which were greatly appreciated.
Although I just didn't understand why he couldn't have waited for Mothers day to give me them or do that.
So on actual Mothers day I got nothing.
Not one thing from him.
Not a note, nothing.
Not a breakfast, he didn't make me one thing.
There was nothing from him.
After being depressed, and stressed all day(which he literally slept all day) he wrote me a little note on a card apologizing for not doing anything.
Blaming the money issue as to why he didn't do anything.
I DONT GIVE A FUCK about material shit, or money, or a date, or a movie.
whatever the fuck, I just wanted something written from him.
For fucks sake he's a rapper and writes poetry for a hobby but can't write me shit?
I don't fucking get it.
I have to light a fire under his ass for him to do anything for me.
And that's not how I want to live the rest of my life, but that sure does speak volumes into my future.
Sexually everything I have to push him to do.
It's exhausting.
He can't even drive, I have to drive us around EVERYWHERE because I'm a better driver than him.
He has a manly body but that's it.
As for his attributes, he still carries that of a boy.
And I am mothering him.

I don't want to do that for the rest of my life.
That is why I am scared.
I am scared of my future, and finding someone who is everything and more.
Because Andrew isn't everything to me.
Not so much 'to me', moreover 'for me'.
I'm so sick and tired of these male 'projects'.
These DIY build a man workshop.
I'm tired of assembling the item myself, I want one that is prepackaged and ready to go!
I would like someone to drive me around for once, and plan things out for one, and be more responsible than me for once.

Wishful thinking.


He should be home any minute so I am leaving now.
Well going to bed.

P.S. I cannot remember the last time my vagina has been eaten, probably sometime in early 2017.
Fuck me right?

I cannot count

How many times I've dreamt of him.
How I wake up every morning missing him.
How I wake up every morning and fight with every fiber of my being, not to text him.

I've never had will power, especially with him.
He was my weakness.
The man of many years.
One of the only men who could say something and it affect how I viewed myself.
What he liked and thought of me, mattered.
When it shouldn't have, but it did.

Here I am writing about him again.
Missing him.
Aching for him.