It got so much worse towards the end. If I had thought he couldn't see me in the beginning, approaching the end I was totally invisible. Trapped in a body being played with, trying to connect my mind to what was going on outside and feel something.... anything. I used to think it was me, low libido, not turned on anymore, maybe I'm approaching menopause or a hormone imbalance is making me feel less... yet I could eventually see that it wasn't me. I felt unseen and irrelevant in his latest fantasy I just couldn't put my finger on why. Our last swinging date before I pulled the plug was cringeworthy to say the least. Sitting in a bar trying to get myself in the mood and up to speed with where he was but knowing full well that if we decided to take things to the next level it was going to be a white-knuckle ride for me. Then it happened, the nail in the coffin! After an hour or so of polite conversation with a nice couple over a few drinks, he was well in his zone and ready to flow, and without a thought or even a glance in my direction, the bill was ordered, he was ready and fueled by his frustrated desire. He very confidently asserted himself 'Excuse me miss, the bill please'. The waitress hadn't heard him so it was bellowed across the pub once again. Had he screamed any loader the windows would have rattled. There was a fire in his eyes, desperation in his voice, he was like a hunter with his eyes on the prize. Something inside me was screaming, 'get the hell out of his way, he's a blind man with a loaded shotgun in his hands, someone's going to get hurt' and that person was probably going to be me. I was done, out, it was over for me, I wanted no more of this charade.

Weeks after, having cleaned my phone and computer of any trace of swinging, I began to give myself the break I needed. 'This is not normal' I would say to myself even though I didn't know what 'it' was. 'It's not my fault', 'I can't fix this', 'no matter how I change, adapt, improve, or try, this is nothing to do with me'. This gave me some peace. 'It' was nothing to do with me, I did not create it, I didn't cause it and I am powerless to change it. The only thing I could do was protect myself for the storm that was about to come. You know when you work on a problem so much that all you do is go around in circles, well I was ready to put down all the mismatched pieces and move one, I was out, done, finished and ready to face whatever life had to throw at me, but one thing was for sure, He may have been an addict, but I wasn't going to be.

Date night came around a few weeks later which normally meant, me and him hitting the town, dressed up, drinking, flirting and sharing our desires and fantasies and falling in love all over again. But this night was different. I'd stopped my futile fantasizing some time ago and the words coming out of my mouth that night were not ones that ignited the air with dirty talk and flattery but ones that told him the game was over. 'You're an addict' I said. 'You have a problem', 'This is not normal behavior'. At the same time, I was well aware that telling an addict they're an addict can sometimes backfire as most of the time denial is the common response. But I was surprised, hurt and relieved when he said…'Come on darling, have you only just realized that? I've been this was my whole life'. I was devastated. How could he let me spend mouths, years even, trying to work out was wrong with us, me, our marriage when it wasn't my shortcomings but his addiction that muddied the waters of our intimacy.

Denial, deceit, shame, and guilt were common threads throughout our marriage for both of us. Most people think that sex addicts like lots of sex and whilst this is the case, sex is not his goal. Sex for a sex addict is a place they go to relieve distress in their lives not a place of love, connection and intimacy. Swinging web sites, pornography, hook up sites, Russian brides, prostitution, massage parlors and online dating sites where his drug, swinging was just the tip of the iceberg that amplified his addiction and even that was sourced in secret most of the time. During the times when I did open our on line profile, the messages had already been filtered, sorted and some replied to, telephone numbers swapped, pictures either rejected or kept and decisions had already been made on our behalf obviously during the hours that I slept, worked, studied or ran the day to day family affairs. His mind ran 24/7, he was like a Ferrari with no brakes and all this done in his secret world of turmoil. Intimacy between us had crumbled over the years and our foundation which already had cracks was being put to the test. It’s heartbreaking for a wife to try to satisfy the man she loves when he cannot be satisfied. Hours of love making with a primary goal of holding onto the fantasy and prolong climax for as long as possible were the norm. Almost instantly, once finished he would go to pornography to start all over again. His need became insatiable, his tolerence full blown and withdraral could be triggered at any moment. Any argument or inkling of rejection would send him in the small hours to the internet and I dreaded to think of what had been happening outside our family home though one thing was for sure, there was nothing he could tell me that would scare me more that living the rest of my married life this.

As his addiction worsened there came a point where he could no longer perform in bed. No matter how much lingerie, gymnastics, or openness to try new things I brought to our bedroom, it was never enough. Sex had become practical and mechanical for me, I was just a prop. I would lay next to the man I loved and no matter how turned on I was, he was frustrated. Orgasms were traded like poker chips and measured accordingly. On those times when we did meet 'the perfect couple' the bliss of our experience which at the time was sexy, days later became insignificant to him, even repulsive and he was on a mission to find better. On the rare occasions that my fantasies were considered and actualized which were few and far between, the ecstasy too was short lived as I, in his opinion, had been selfish and the only one that had received any pleasure.

Moving onto present day and a short while into his recovery, if you would call it that, I don't know what the future holds, I'm taking it day by day and trying to protect myself. Whilst light has been shed on all of the dark areas of his addiction, I can see that it's a slippery slope back into the underworld. But that's not something I can prevent nor is it something that I will enable. I don't entertain the idea of swinging even though he does and assures me that he now see's that I am the one who holds all the cards. Sex and intimacy between is far from perfect. He's a great provider for our family and a loving husband and friend who lives in constant battle with himself which any loving wife will know is hard to see and to bare. Living with my sex addict husband puts me in a precarious situation, it's a selfish affliction and one that effects the very heart of marriage. On one hand, I walk a fine line between walking around on egg shells and enabling his addiction as I know that any kind of stress or rejection can send him running for his fix. And on the other hand, my withdrawal and refusal to indulge him leaves me feeling empty, lonely and neglected.

The man I love and want to love can't see me, I'm a body with a woman trapped inside trying to fake desire.