Being with the same person for 20+ years in today’s world seems to be rare. I think as a society we can be very “throw away” in our attitude towards not only things but also relationships.
My gran and grandad were together over 50 years, had 5 children and several dogs (although only one at a time). My gran worked part-time when the children were grown up collecting rents for the coal board houses and my grandad worked down the pit. My dad and stepdad also worked down the pit until it closed following the miners strikes in the 80’s. In fact the little village I grew up in never recovered from the put closure.
I never heard them fighting, my gran and grandad. They talked, they had their roles and they cared for each other so deeply, you could see it. They would hold hands, and you would see my grandad squeeze my grans hand in his.
When he went partially blind and deaf my gran would loudly describe what was happening during a cricket match for him, which he would find highly amusing.
In all honesty, I hope beyond all hope that I am as lucky as them.
MrH and I will celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary later this year, and we will have been together 24 years in all shortly thereafter. I for one am grateful for the day I went to college and met him. Deciding to study Business and Finance was definitely one of the best decisions I made!
Having said all that, I have also been guilty of not always being present in my relationship with MrH. I didn’t tell him about the inner anxieties I had around my body image, and my low self esteem. I hid behind a bubbly, confident persona that I thought he would like better.
I cried silently when he couldn’t see instead of sharing my fears because I worried that showing that side of myself would send him running for the hills.
My breakdown following my dads death meant I had to start to face all the things I had hidden in my “mental storage boxes”. As my counsellor said, “if you keep shoving things inside a box, eventually the lid won’t close and everything comes out.”
MrH and I both took 6 weeks off work. In those 6 weeks we reconnected. MrH has been working a job doing night shifts. We spent 2 years seeing each other in passing. I was coming in from work and he was going out, and vice versa. When he wasn’t at work he was shattered. So the 6 weeks together was a good thing. We talked. We listened. We cried. We held each other.
At this point our boys were 11 and 6. We moved house and the boys changed schools. I spent 5 years as a stay at home mum, but in reality I was severely depressed for 3 years and then went to university for 2 years. It was also during this time that my back problems first made themselves known.
Throughout all this MrH supported and cared for me. He encouraged and loved me unconditionally. Despite this I still didn’t fully trust that he would not leave me. I worried I would be too much for him to deal with. I knew he could easily find someone thinner, prettier and with less emotional drama.
I didn’t trust his love.
I should have.
I wish so much that I could go back and have a frank conversation about sexual needs earlier. I wish I had told him, I don’t really know what gets me off, we need to work it out. I wish I’d said well let me show you what I do to myself to reach orgasm then you have some idea where to starting.
I wish I hadn’t faked the orgasms I did so that MrH felt he was doing a good job. I mean why?! It’s not like it didn’t feel good. It’s not like I wasn’t enjoying it. I just didn’t cum. Looking back it is probably because I just wasn’t relaxed enough but MrH was very disappointed with me when I told him.
When I finally plucked up the courage to ask MrH to consider Bondage, Spanking, becoming my Dominant and so on, we entered into a period of discussion the likes of which we had never had before. During these discussions MrH commented that it had taken me 22 years to ask for what I wanted.
Since then I have learned so much about myself and him.
I’ve learned he has a strength I didn’t realise, or maybe didn’t allow to show. I used to question his decisions. For the most part in all fairness I just did whatever I wanted. I knew if he said no he meant it and didn’t go against him but I did question the little things.
I’ve learned I feel better, less anxious, when I am strictly controlled. I don’t want to be in control, I want to be taken care of and be looked after.
I’ve learned I like to be restrained and or bound.
I’ve learned MrH likes to tie me up.
I’ve learned I like to be spanked, caned and flogged.
I’ve learned MrH likes to spank me.
I’ve learned that MrH wants me, loves me, desires me. That he prefers me to anyone else. That he doesn’t want to be with anyone else, and doesn’t want anyone else to touch me. I am his alone.
I’ve learned to accept that I am enough.
I’ve learned that we need to keep talking often to maintain the relationship we want.
I’ve learned that the relationship we have, like my grandparents had, is like magic, it transforms you from two individuals into a working cohesive unit, it sprinkles you with passion, dusts you with laughter and wraps you in love.
And while I don’t know (and kinda don’t wanna know!!!!) if my grandparents had the same fairy godmother as me, but we also got a dash of kinky added too 😊