Well, I did get a little surprise, after all. I expected Tom to be OK with my wanting to put a hold on sex, but nope. He objects, he said, unless I absolutely insist on waiting. But why? If all he wants to do is get hard, I can see to that by hand. Maybe he objected cuz he knows I don’t want to do it. He does, after all, seem more driven by the things that I’m not interested in, or that turn me off altogether. So, I guess some Sundays, for the rest of my life, are going to be very boring and very predictable. Yes, we certainly have much more fun out of bed than in it. That’s my opinion, anyway. At least he has a good time in bed. In fact, so good of a time that he’s willing to sacrifice any pleasure with me just to keep his stubborn attitude and to bore me to death. Sometimes I wonder – should I start expressing pleasure in bed? Will that make him want to veer the opposite way; if he thinks I like things the way they are? Then again, what opposite way can we go? He doesn’t like having sex during the week and is usually too tired to do so, we can’t do many different positions, and the guy’s old-fashioned and unimaginative. He’s also afraid to cum and shouldn’t be made to do anything he doesn’t feel comfortable doing. Like I said, I know we’ll never have a kid and that’s not the issue anymore, whether I’m sterile or not. The issue is the lack of honesty on his part. His failure to face and admit his fears is the issue. After hoping for so many years that he’d one day come out and say – You were right. I was afraid to cum regularly cuz I was afraid of a kid. I just didn’t want the expense and hassle. I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront from the beginning. Especially with how badly you once wanted one. However, with each year that passes with no change whatsoever, and with a confession from him, I realize it’s never going to come. Thirty years from now he’ll still be saying it was out of his hands, but that he did want a kid (even though he happened to never do anything to achieve that), and that he didn’t control me.

Well, in the end, we don’t have to have a kid. I’m fine without that. I may wonder about it from time to time since it’s an experience I’ll never have, but we don’t have to have a kid and he doesn’t have to cum, even if it’d make me feel like cumming too, and turn me on more to know I pleased him and that he is without fear. I just think it’s rather sad that I’ll never hear the full truth from his mouth, but only from his actions.

No, I don’t bother praying to God for help. In fact, I haven’t prayed to him for years now. That’s because I know he doesn’t give a damn and that there’s no help from him. He obviously wants things to be the way they are as much as Tom does or else he wouldn’t have let this shit go on for 7 years. He’d have done something to give Tom the strength and motivation to change, or to at least own up to the truth. Or maybe he wouldn’t have let Tom be the way he is in the first place. Remember, it was me that made him the way he is. He was never cumless with anyone else. I’m the one who brought the sexual curse into this relationship, even if he’s the one with the fears. Not that I never had my own fears about a kid. It’s just that I wouldn’t have let them stand in my way if I had had some say in the matter. I’m not alone as far as him being afraid to have a kid for various reasons. Most women deal with resistant boyfriends/husbands when it comes to that. The difference is that their men still cum, so sometimes they can get tricked into parenthood by the woman who may insist she took her birth control when she really didn’t. Well, this one’s so scared I couldn’t trick him if I wanted to. He keeps his equipment under strict lock and key and would never dare take chances with it. I still can’t figure out why he did take those chances the dozen or so times he did. What gave him the burst of courage to do so? What made him so daring and brave back then? We had even more shit going on than we do now, believe it or not, and we weren’t much richer.

I don’t pray to God for anything at all. If someone busted in here and held me at gunpoint, God’s the last one I’d be pleading with for mercy. For I would know that if God wanted me unharmed, he would never have sent someone to hold me at gunpoint in the first place.

I thought of another thing that Paula said that has me confused. She acted all surprised that I had to spend the night in jail. Well, if she read my letters, wouldn’t she remember and know that I spent the night in jail? Could any of my letters have gotten lost?

Later...

Tom’s home now. I had him get new scent cartridges. Instead of that way-too-strong and perfumey flowery oil, I had him get vanilla. Vanilla, Country Garden, and strawberry are the best. I took the oil out of its warmer and placed it in the closet. I only have the cartridges in my office and the bedroom. Just in rooms that are “real” rooms. I don’t have anything going in the open part except for the air cleaner.

It may only be the 4th, but I wonder, should I call Don if he doesn’t call me by the 30th?

Somehow I doubt I’ll get that lucky. He’ll call. I’m sure he’ll call. Like I said, something up there really wants me to pay for this. For a lousy letter and phone call. How can people harass their neighbors for years and not expect there to be some kind of consequence? And just what is something up there doing to them for what they did wrong to us?

Nothing. Nothing at all. How stupid of me to even ask, huh? I could be murdered and my murderer would never see justice done to them. They’d probably never get caught, but if they did, they’d get off on some stupid technicality, or they wouldn’t do much time. It’s OK to wrong Jodi S. It’s very OK. God made that clear to me just by the parents he had me born to.

Anyway, no I won’t call Don. I called him and he said he’d call me back, so it wouldn’t be my fault if he didn’t, but like I said, he’ll be calling.