Episode 42: The Thrill Is Gone

Episode 42: The Thrill Is Gone

Excerpts from "The Petty Chronicles" Every Monday (rerun)

Once upon a time in the land of happily-ever-after, I enjoyed a great sex life with the man I promised to have and to hold. What had been a constant in our life ended with a whimper, not a bang, slowly riding off into the sunset until one day I was standing alone in the dark wondering what had happened. By the time I noticed it was gone, any traces of the heat between us had turned cold and I was at a loss as to the whys and wherefores of its disappearance.  

“The thrill is gone,” I told my girlfriends, hoping that they might be able to shed some light on the fact that my husband had lost all interest in me. “Maybe it’s just a phase he’s going through like the terrible twos or a penchant for wearing leisure suits,” one of them said. I had to laugh but really, the whole thing was far from funny.

Since our sex life had been one of the best parts of our marriage and the glue that held us together when all else failed, I thought surely it would rebound. Any day now, I told myself, we’ll be making a big comeback. But after a few months of skating around the edges of seduction only to be repeatedly rebuffed, I began to feel like an untouchable and it became clear to me that our bed would no longer be used for anything but sleeping.

Not wanting to believe his lack of interest was all about me, I made a list of other reasons for his possible leap into the land of sexual exile. Could this lull be a result of depression? If so, this condition was certainly nothing new. He’d never really been what you would call a happy camper but it had never curbed his sexual appetite before, so I tossed that theory aside. There were no medical reasons for his disinterest either. Early morning evidence that he could still get it up only made for longer showers. I suspected he was in there taking care of business on his own, which got a big rise out of me, but not in a good way.

This left only one other possibility: he must be having an affair. After much investigation on my part I came up empty handed on that score as well and although part of me was relieved not to find receipts for hotel rooms and miscellaneous flowers and gifts I almost wished I had, as the alternative was too painful to contemplate: he simply didn’t want me anymore.

My ex had never been big on sharing, like if he kept all the toys to himself it would make him happy. What he failed to realize was that hoarding never makes you happy, it just makes you lonelier. But deep down inside I knew it was pointless to keep pushing him to play with me and that eventually he would come to regret his penchant for behaving like a selfish, willful child.

The chemistry that had drawn us together and the sexual estrangement that had torn us apart straddled our marriage like a pair of mismatched bookends on a shelf that was all but abandoned. Lord knows how or why, but we temporarily ended the drought one cold winter night a few months before he moved out. It was like a final exam, both of us making sure that our failure at being married was indeed as real as we had imagined. That last time was as sad as the first time had been exhilarating and as he gave it one more heave-ho, I cried silently for a love that was lost and gone, never to return. In my head, BB King sang a lonely refrain, “The thrill is gone, the thrill is gone away. I know you done me wrong and you’ll be sorry someday.” And even though I knew nothing could be closer to the truth, that I should feel vindicated by those words, at that very moment, I found that they brought me little comfort.

Check out new episodes of The Petty Chronicles every Monday.

Click the following to learn about The Petty Chronicles and its author, Rachel Gladstone