When he does finally walk out the door, I’m always so mad at myself. I don’t want to do this stuff, but for some reason I do it anyway. I’m not sure if I’m afraid of him or losing him or if it’s just ingrained in me that this is what you do for the person in your life. Maybe it’s ingrained in me that you get in trouble if you say no. My childhood could testify to that. But this… this isn’t how I was raised. I never would have imagined my adult relationship would include being smacked in the face with his clammy, post-workout manhood. It seems so normal to him, like he’s been doing it forever.
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