Despite the stressful times, my ex and I get along pretty well most days. Last week we did have a rather large argument again about his leaving, and I had to endure more of the “you aren’t being a partner in this” and “you are the only one that thinks this is a big deal” bullshit. But we got it sorted out.
Last Sunday, I was still recovering from my surgery. When he dropped off my son, we chatted like we usually do.
He asked whether there was anything I needed him to do for me, since I was still not 100%. He does have his nice moments.
We then started talking about Johnny Id‘s visit, and he asked me, somewhat suggestively jokingly, whether I was worried about being healed by then. It went like this:
Him: So, do you figure you’ll be all healed by the time he arrives?
Me: Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Right now it only hurts when I move around.
Him: Well, then it for sure won’t be a problem for you then.
I had to admit, it was a very funny jab at me. He was very pleased with himself. He once told me having sex with me was like making love to a dead fish (he was really angry at the time). Our sex life was horrible, as I’ve written many times before. So in his mind, it’s a justifiable joke.
As I was laughing along, my internal monologue went: oh geez, he has no clue just how fucking insatiable I really am. How I literally have had 29 year-olds begging to please let them stop, and how one of my first dates after being single I ended up having sex 15 times.
I felt kind of bad. But was laughing on the outside.
I’m sure the reverse is true for him too. Well, I sincerely hope it is. I hope he has a great sex life now, that his confidence has been restored, that he’s gone back to the guy I knew at 25. But there’s no way in hell I’m going to ask!
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