Sorry for all the victim puke.

Every day I am torn. Split down the middle. Part of me wants to love my wife. To reach out for her. To cuddle with her. To share my life intimately.

Part of me is afraid. Of rejection. Of not being rejected. I want to hug her. But I fear rejection. I want to have sex with her. But I fear not only rejection, but inability to perform. So I do not ask. I stay away from the bedroom until long after she is asleep. Or I climb into bed but stay far away on my side.

Meanwhile, every fibre of my being cries out to reach for her. While every ounce of my willpower holds me immobile.

It is a constaint strain. A constant tension. It is wearing me down. Exhausting me. Tearing me apart.

Some days are better than others. SOme days I can function. Some days I can't. Too often I come here to vent when the pressure gets too much for me.

I shouldn't take this out on you guys. Thank you for listening to my ravings.

When you can see it coming, duck!