Monthly Archives: February 2015

One week later

Less than one week later he’s asking if I want another massage again. ‘Come on’ he says, ‘give me a chance to redeem myself it will be a sex-free massage’.

After numerous declines I finally agree. He rubs my feet and then my legs and spent an extraordinarily long amount of time on my inner thigh and buttocks. He began to make sexual moves and I asked him what he was doing. His reply was, “I’m getting into it”.
He stops and then gives me a quick rub on my back. He asks me to turn over so that he can massage the front but I politely say, “I think I’m done and want to go take a shower… thank you for the massage”.

As for the boundaries that are crossed… When he shows no regard for a specific boundary line I have drawn I innately question myself and wonder if I’m making too big of deal about whatever it is. Because, generally what is important to me is minimized as being an important. Ever since a friend of mine asked me to ask the question, ” would it be okay if this happened to your daughter?”.
Wow. Absolutely not. It would not be okay. I would be extremely upset if what I see is happening in this situation which is someone taking advantage of her and not respecting her wishes. So why should I think any less of myself?

There was no more discussion of this incident. The next day , after the kids had gone to bed Matt told me that the massage table was all warmed up and ready for me if I wanted a massage. I looked at him and said, “I do not need an inner thigh massage and I do not need a butt massage”.

Then the 3+ hour tirade began.
Him: I’m trying to do something nice for you and you’re refusing it.
Me: You did not buy that massage table for me. You bought it for your self as an avenue for sex.
Matt: There is nothing wrong between physical touch between two married people.
Me: I agree. However that does not necessarily mean sex.
Him: You’re crazy. There isn’t a woman out there that wouldn’t love to have a husband offering to do this for her. If you want to divorce me and find someone else who can live like this without any physical contact then you go right ahead. Hire an attorney. Get the papers ready. You just let me know when you’re ready to do that.

At this point I know that anything that I say will cause more volatility so I remained silent.
I think I blocked out a lot of what he was saying because I can’t even remember it all now. I took my shower and got ready for bed. Then he began “talking” again.

I remember him asking pointed questions such as, “do you want to be with me or not? Do you want to be married or not?”

I told him that I was not going to discuss such serious topics as that so late at night.

Then something was said about him “why do you think I keep trying?”

I made the mistake of making the comment, “I don’t think you really are.”

It was that moment when I came face to face with evil. He grabbed my arm and I tried to pull away. I was lying down in the bed and he got in my face. I could smell his breath he was so close. I could feel the air as he spoke.

“What do you mean you don’t think I’m trying? Do you give a fuck about my salt truck driving job? Did you give a fuck about my schoolbus job? Huh? Did you? How dare you say that I’m not trying.” He seemed to be in my face forever. I began to cry. But I didn’t fight back or try to get away or even ask him to let go of me.

I was still. I felt like I was playing dead. Just like one does when in danger of being attacked by a wild animal, just play dead and hope it won’t hurt you more. That is what I felt like.

For the first time in a long time I felt scared.

He got up out of the bed and said one last, “how dare you fucking say that I’m not trying”. I felt like I’d been attacked and left for dead.

After a bit he came back to bed and began to talk again. I pretended like I was asleep. He shook me and called my name loudly until I responded a couple of times. I would mumble a response, then continue to try and block him out.

Much later after I really was asleep he proceeded to begin sucking on my fingers as foreplay. When I awoke I pulled away and rolled over. Just about at that time his phone dinged to indicate that he had a text message. He read it and then left the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

This morning he acted as if everything was normal. i’ve cried most of the morning. I feel so wounded today.



After purchasing a massage table and all the accessories for nearly $300.00 when the money should have been spent on bills, I was feeling angry about its arrival yesterday. He wasted no time getting it set up.

Today after I woke up from a much-needed nap he got a bottle of water and some hot tea for me. “Just like the professionals.”, he says. “Come on, let me give you a massage.”

I hesitate. I know that in the past the codeword for massage is sex. I have not felt an emotional connection to him and really don’t want to be intimate with him like that.

I tell him that I feel uneasy about it.


I express my concern over his intentions.

“No strings attached. Come on. It’s physical touch. I gave you a massage the other night and nothing happened.”

So I believe him.

I crawl in to the toasty warm cotton sheet. It feels good. I do love a good massage. He touches are more gentle than usual. It is certainly relaxing. And how nice to be touched in a non-sexual way.

And then he begins to get handsy. His hands get closer to my inner thighs. I’m relaxed. And it kind of feels good.

I’m torn. Do I let my flesh enjoy this with my husband? I give in. I let it happen. But my heart knows it is wrong. As he climbs on top of me I began to weep. He told me this wasn’t his intention. I knew otherwise. But I fell for his deception again.

Afterwards, he makes the comment that a massage sure is relaxing. I am crying silently. I feel violated. I feel disrespected. I feel betrayed. I feel used. And I feel guilty for the pleasure I just experienced. I am ashamed that I enjoyed it. I’m ashamed that I let him deceive me. I am filled with shame.