MARRIAGE | RELATIONSHIPS | HOTWIFE
In A Sexless Marriage? Don’t Blame Yourself
How my affair with a flight attendant taught me my sexuality was too important to ignore
When I married for the first time, it was after dating for over 5 years. At the time, I believed a long period of courtship was necessary to ensure you were making a good match. Like my parents, I wanted my marriage to be successful. Who knows? Perhaps I’d read too many Jane Austin novels but I knew I wanted to make a good choice.
My boyfriend and eventual husband and I were compatible intellectually and physically. Our libidos were so similar to rabbits we were perpetually late for social activities because of our last-minute need to have quick ones.
Sadly our passion for each other came to an abrupt halt after the exchange of marriage vows.
Starting with our three-month honeymoon backpacking across Europe and Turkey, the chemistry we’d once felt for each other was faltering. I found myself wondering if it was the heat. We were from temperate northern climates and perhaps neither of us was feeling sexy sweltering under the Mediterranean summer sun. But even the air-conditioned rooms in Turkish seaside resorts couldn’t make us touch each other. Instead, I engrossed myself in 28-days of Tour de France coverage on Eurosport.
Most professionals agree that a sexless marriage is one in which sex occurs less than once a month or less than ten times per year.
For the three months, we were away on our honeymoon, I enjoyed myself immensely but there was no sex. At the time, I’d never heard about sexless marriages and I certainly didn’t want to be in one.
Being a naive newlywed, I just assumed my husband was going through a phase. Perhaps the stress of his final year at university had affected his libido. Before marriage, I’d never felt awkward with him sexually. We’d done all kinds of naughty things together so I was really at a loss. Although I can’t recall, I’m sure I must have asked him why we weren’t having sex anymore. I assume he never really responded to my question.
A sexless marriage is a marital union in which little or no sexual activity occurs between the two spouses.
Over the next six months, I spent a lot of time in my head wondering what was wrong with my marriage. Even though I was thirty years old, I didn’t have many married friends I was close enough to that I could ask about this very personal dilemma.
Instead, I buried my angst deep within me.
Looking back, I’m sure I felt shame.
How did I end up in a sexless marriage? What changed? Was it me? Did I do something wrong? Was I no longer attractive to my husband? Was it a Muslim thing? My husband was of Muslim heritage? Do they have different attitudes towards sex after marriage? What could I do to fan the flames of romance again? Was this the case of someone getting the seven-year-itch? Was there another woman? Or, was my husband merely stressed about finding a job and establishing a career? Was job hunting giving him performance issues?
I became stoic about my situation accepting celibacy as my fate.
Despite all of these questions, I never really found any answers. Instead, I became stoic about my situation accepting celibacy as my fate.
The honeymoon period in a marriage is supposed to be a time of joy and excitement as married couples begin their journey together. For me, the first six months of my marriage were filled with angst. To help take the financial pressure off my husband, I gave up my apartment and began long-term cat sitting for couples. At the time, I wanted my husband to search for his first job post-graduation without the pressure to pay bills. I intended to put these savings towards a downpayment on our first apartment.
I had high hopes our sex life would recover. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
During this period, we allowed ourselves to be distracted by job searches and cat sitting. Every six weeks, we would move into a new home. While I stayed home, my husband was in and out of town going to job interviews all over North America. I had high hopes our sex life would recover. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
For nearly six months, we kicked this situation down the road until he eventually accepted an out-of-town teaching contract at a college. I was thrilled! Then, the fact that this position was located on the opposite side of the country began to settle in. Even to stay connected via telephone meant we now had to juggle a four-hour time difference. In reality, this time difference meant the only time we could talk during the week was when he was getting ready to go sleep and I was getting home from work. Not ideal.
Despite my sexless, long-distance marriage, I was a dedicated wife trying to support my husband.
I adjusted into a life of celibacy. At the time, I accepted these trials and tribulations as the normal phases newly married couples go through as they adjust to their new lives together. I accepted that eventually, I was going to need to leave my successful career and relocate to another city. I even began sending feelers out to explore job opportunities.
I kept reminding myself military wives cope with long term absences all the time
Despite my sexless, long-distance marriage, I was still a dedicated wife who was trying to support my husband. Once again I was being very stoic about my situation. I kept reminding myself military wives cope with long-term absences all the time. If they can do it, so can I. But eventually, nine months passed. And despite my suggestions to meet for long weekends, I was repeatedly rebuffed. He argued that we needed to save money for a house. While he might have been focused on that goal, I was beginning to feel we needed to invest in our marriage. If we didn’t do that soon, we wouldn’t need that house.
As the months passed, I was getting increasingly frustrated. Friends and family kept wondering how we were keeping our marriage together. I remained stoic in my commitment to celibacy and my marriage.
Then, the situation abruptly changed. I’d persuaded my husband to meet me for a weekend in Montreal. As I settled into my seat on the airplane, an attractive male flight attendant took the seat next to me. For the next four hours, we talked and talked and talked. As the flight began its descent into Montreal, this flight attendant indicated that although it was against airline policy, he’d like to drive me to my hotel downtown. I agreed.
In retrospect, it’s not surprising why I accepted this ride. Up until that moment, I hadn’t strayed from my marriage. But I guess my months of sexual abstinence had finally reached their limit. From there, the rest is history. My husband wasn’t due to arrive for another five hours. I’ll let you imagine how I passed the time. Thankfully, the room I’d booked had two queen-sized beds.
Much to my surprise, I never felt an ounce of guilt about my fling with this flight attendant. It made me feel whole again. I felt energized.
While it didn’t improve my sexless marriage, it made life bearable. In the months that followed, I continued to meet up with this flight attendant for sex at anonymous airport hotels.
I loved the spontaneity of these evenings out with my flight attendant. We both knew why we were there. We enjoyed each other’s company. The sex was good but we both knew it wasn’t going to last forever. I wasn’t looking for something serious. I already had that. I was looking for an escape.
I did recognize this relationship for what it was — a safe, passing relationship with a man whose social circle would never intersect with mine. I’m sure he felt the same way. For the next two years, we saw each other every month or so. This casual relationship taught me I could have a physical connection with someone but not get emotionally involved.
Monogamy and I may never have been a good fit.
What I didn’t recognize at the time was that my affair was probably a sign that monogamy and I might never have been a good fit. My mind was clouded by the sexual frustration caused by my sexless marriage.
Not surprisingly, my marriage came to an abrupt end one weekend afternoon. Two and a half years after it had begun, I finally pulled the pin when I hung up the phone. I contacted a lawyer on Monday morning. We never spoke again.
Now, when I tell people I never lived with my first husband, it all feels ridiculous.
I’m glad I eventually found the strength to recognize that my marriage needed to end. I look back fondly at my fling with my flight attendant for showing me that it was time for me to move on from him and my husband.
But if I ever run into my flight attendant again, I will thank him for showing me a sexless marriage would never work for a hotwife like me.
© 2022 Belle du Journey
Belle du Journey writes on Medium about sex, life, relationships, and writing. If this story is appearing anywhere other than Medium.com, it appears without my consent and has been stolen.
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