By: Jamie Anderson
I rolled in from a grueling 14-hour workday around 10 p.m. The semester had just kicked off, and I was busy setting up various programs at the university. My wife, Sara, had spent the day tending to three sickly, sneezy kids.
As I entered, I found Sara at the table, munching on cookies and sipping milk while glued to her laptop. She was still dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, which clued me in that she hadn’t found the time to unwind. Normally, by this hour, she’d be in her pajamas, signaling that she was finally ready to relax.
After such a long day, all I craved was a kiss and a comforting hug from her. In my 20s, this would have led to something more intimate, but now in my 30s, simple physical closeness has become my priority. People often label me a people person, but honestly? I find social interactions draining. I can crack jokes to break the ice, but at the end of the day, I long for the genuine comfort that only Sara can provide.
I settled down next to her, wrapped my arms around her, and kissed her cheek. But instead of turning to embrace me, she remained rigid, her fingers still tapping away at the keyboard.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, a bit hurt.
“I spent the entire day with the kids, and I just need some space. I can’t handle any more touching right now,” she responded.
I felt a sting of rejection. After ten years of marriage, shouldn’t she want to be close to me? I wasn’t asking for anything beyond a hug.
“I just wanted to hold you,” I said. “I’m not looking for anything more; I’m too worn out for that.”
At the mere mention of being held, Sara flinched. My feelings of offense bubbled up again, a familiar frustration that I didn’t want to dwell on.
“Fine,” I muttered, wanting to avoid a fight.
This wasn’t the first time Sara had expressed her need for personal space after a long day with the kids, and honestly, I struggled to understand it. For me, physical connection is essential. My attraction, love, and passion for Sara are all wrapped up in those simple gestures. As I’ve aged, I’ve noticed my need for her affection has intensified.
At night, as we both settled into bed, I wrapped my arm around her.
“It’s not you,” she said softly. “I love you and the kids, but after a day of being clawed at by little hands, I just want a moment to breathe. Those kids can be like sticky little octopuses, and by evening, I crave a little solitude.”
As she spoke, I thought about how exhausting social interactions can be. I started to grasp her perspective, even if it made me feel conflicted.
“Does that make sense?” she asked.
“Yes, it does. I don’t like it, but I get it.” We then chatted about my day and how much I yearned for some affection after a long workday.
“I’m not sure if I articulated that well,” she admitted.
Sara nestled into my side, and we simply lay there in silence, allowing the moment to settle around us.
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Summary
In the world of parenting and marriage, the dynamics of physical touch can shift dramatically. After a long day of caring for sick kids, a mother may crave personal space rather than intimacy, leading to misunderstandings with her spouse. Ultimately, it’s essential for both partners to communicate their needs while navigating the challenges of parenthood and maintaining their connection.