The Thoughts I've Never Said Outloud

Lonely & Wanting

November 30th, 2025

I’ve been in a committed relationship for over twenty years. Most days, it feels like I’m living with a close friend. The intimacy is all but gone. I feel alone in a way that’s almost unbearable: lonely while being with someone.

Touch-starved. That’s the word. In the past four years, we’ve had sex only once. Another time, we got each other off without intercourse. Kisses? Rare. Hugs? Occasional. And I miss it. I miss everything: even the predictable, vanilla sex we used to have. I miss making out like teenagers, messy and hungry and wanting. Sometimes, okay often, I cry because I miss it so much.

He doesn’t seem bothered by the lack. I don’t think he’s cheating—and I trust him—but sometimes I wonder if I’d even care if he were. I’ve never cheated and never will. But the truth? If he asked to sleep with others, I think part of me would be…okay with it. Part of me might even find it hot.

All I’ve ever known is vanilla sex. But I want more. I fantasize about being taken—told what to do, tied up, blindfolded, used until my mind goes blank. Spanked, choked, fucked…even with a third joining us. I want to watch others, or watch him with someone else. Voyeurism turns me on. These are things I can’t ask for. I can’t ask him to take me there, because I know he wouldn’t.

One time, I told him I’d be game to try something he fantasized about, and he never responded. Never talked about it again. The fragile confidence I had in bringing it up shattered completely. My self-esteem was already fragile. That, broke it.

I’m fairly certain he’s no longer attracted to me. Maybe I can’t blame him—I’ve been seriously overweight before, and he didn’t lose interest then, just as he didn’t when I was at a healthy weight. So why now? When did we stop trying?

Even now, as I write this, we’re in different parts of the house. I just finished reading another spicy book, getting my thrills where I can. All I want is to throw myself at him, naked. But I’m scared. Afraid of rejection. Sad. Rejected by the person I’ve shared over twenty years with. Subtle “nos” have chipped away at me. I can’t take another one.

I’ve talked to a therapist about this. About my unhappiness. It’s more than the bedroom. I often feel like I only get attention after he’s done everything else he’d rather be doing. And yet…I feel guilty complaining. I chose to stay. My reasons feel selfish. Financial security. Comfort. Friendship. Space. None of it noble. I can’t leave. I can’t risk it. I can’t imagine it. Ok, that last one isn’t true…I can imagine it and I have, but I always choose to stay.

Maybe I’ll hit a breaking point and figure out a way to leave without destroying myself financially. Maybe we’ll find a way back—back to touch, to intimacy, to kisses that leave us breathless. Or maybe this will just stay this way, for the rest of my life.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
A Rambling Introduction

November 30th, 2025

Where to begin…Funny, I’ve been thinking about starting this blog for months. The words I’ve wanted to say here running through my brain day and night, obsessively consuming me. Now that I’m done setting up this little corner of the internet for myself, my brain has gone blank. All the words have scattered, gone into hiding, taunting me with the knowledge I had them and lost them. Maybe, if I keep just pounding out nonsense on my keyboard, they’ll come back. I hope they do, because I feel if I don’t get these thoughts, these desires, and start stripping off all the masks I wear every fucking day, I’ll lose my grip on sanity. Even if no one reads this, at least the void is listening…or I can pretend it is, at any rate.

Maybe I’ll start by introducing myself. I’m calling myself Remy here, not my real name. I need to use a fake name, to share the real me, or rather to rediscover the real me, because I’m not sure I know who the fuck she is anymore. Oh yeah, I’m a cis-woman and I go by she/her pronouns. Another thing I’ll share, that I’ve never told anyone in my real life, is I’m bisexual or maybe pan…at the very least, I’m not straight. I don’t feel I have a right to claim my own queerness, though. I’ve never been in a relationship or had sex with anyone but the opposite gender. And for the last, very many years, I’ve been in a committed relationship with a man. Maybe this is just my midlife crisis, but is it ever too late to figure out who you really are beneath all the masks you’ve created to mold yourself into who you think you need to be for others? For the most part, I don’t think so…but the scared part of me…well, I’m working on shutting her up.

If you’re reading this, thank you, and also sorry – I ramble, go off on tangents and have 0 desire to not do that here. This will be my place to share my truths, my desires (including of a sexual nature), and to rediscover who I am, really am, beneath the personas I use in my real life. I may post daily, weekly, monthly, maybe even multiple times per day…I don’t know. As long as I can get the words back I want to share and shed this near paralyzing fear I have at showing anyone, including myself, who I am underneath my masks.

Lonely & Wanting

A Rambling Introduction