Yesterday, I’d hoped for a least a cuddle. I didn’t hope for much more than that, since my tummy has been irritable for about the weeks now and continues to be unstable. However, some kind of intimate relations would have been lovely.

I am so horny!

Instead, I started a conversation with my husband. It has to be done really – there is much still to talk about.

I sat on the rug, while my giant dart on the sofa. I prefer to be on the floor when I’m talking (or being talked at). Besides, there’s not enough chairs in the lounge at the moment for me to sit, and I don’t want to be on the two-seater sofa with my husband as that would feel very uncomfortable.

I also had an upset tummy and wind, and I was farting throughout the whole thing.

My husband still seems unsure what we “are”. To me, it’s obvious, we are a couple. What’s more, we know that we are a monogamous couple (although the exact boundaries are not known – for example the subjects of flirting, letching, and sexting have not been discussed).

Our conversations are disjointed and don’t often follow on one from the other, which leaves him getting as though we’re not making progress.

I raised the subject of couples counselling again, more as an entrée into the conversation rather than as the topic itself. He seemed to still be stunned by my revelations of feeling ganger up on in previous couples counselling, and that is only previously agreed to it to please him.

“What’s different this time?” he asked.

“I’m different,” I said, “I would start by talking to the counsellor about my experiences of couples counselling previously, and my own understanding of my communication difficulties.” I believe that this puts me into a very different frame of mind to anything previously.

He said that he’s still reeling from the revelations about everything last year (the dark fantasies and desire for castration). We have some tension here, because he is still hurting over how it all came out. I still hurt that he initially (and admittedly not for very long) rejected me in anger.

I again explained the “like it or lump it” statement. There was a narrow window during which I needed him and his acceptance and help. He was in too much pain himself to do that, so I had to come to my own acceptance of things: I could not prevent my eventual loss of my testicles, but I could perhaps choose the time and manner of the loss.

I don’t know if he understands this yet.

Towards the end of the conversation, he asked “why did you come with me to Southampton?”

I wasn’t clear on whether this was a rhetorical question, or one that he expected me to answer.

The answer is simple: I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want him but to be in my life.

The discussion then turned to the idea that had I not come with him to Southampton, that I would have had my freedom to explore myself.

My belief is that until I was ready, I could not have looked into myself in the ways required to find out who I was.

He wasn’t the problem: I was.

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It was late afternoon when we stopped talking, so we prepared tea together: cold meat and pickles – and bubble and squeak.

Then we watched trash telly for a few hours. I was bored. I don’t like gameshows much really, there’s to much time where they are just chatting to the contestants.

At about ten-thirty I said that I was ready for bed and went up to read for a bit.

A few minutes later, my husband came up. I hadn’t expected to see him yet because I though that he was watching the news.

“I don’t see why I have to wait downstairs for thirty minutes so that you can read,” he said when he came to bed.

I got to a convenient stopping point, and put out the light.

“Good night, Bab,” I said.

After a few moments, he said “thank you for a shit day”.

“Oh” I replied, not knowing how to answer that. I felt annoyed by it. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to question him about why he felt that way there when he then? I lay there thinking for some time.

My sleep was very disturbed as my stomach churned all night, at few pints making me feel like I could be sick.

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Today was a little better. I did some reading, and then helped my husband stripping wallpaper. Then we went for a coffee and talked about nonsense due an hour or so.

I’d hoped for some physical closeness today, but it wasn’t meant to be … so I had to seek some quiet relief by myself.

Sigh.