I finally had an orgasm, and my husband didn't even know

I went to a sex class to spice up our marriage. The toy I bought worked -- but afterward, I felt lonelier than ever

By Amanda Kling

Published May 19, 2014 12:00AM (EDT)

   (<a href='http://www.shutterstock.com/gallery-648514p1.html'>Tovkach Oleg</a> via <a href='http://www.istockphoto.com/'>iStock</a>)
(Tovkach Oleg via iStock)

Last month I found myself at a workshop called "The Art of Sex," hanging on the every word of a spirited sex educator from Babeland (a woman-owned, “sex-positive and sleaze-free” erotic toy shop in New York City). I was sitting in this class because six months prior, my husband had stopped looking at me. By that, I mean looking at me in the way I’ve observed straight men in love or lust sometimes look at a woman: The eyes go a little wider than usual, he smiles subtly, and you can tell in that moment that whatever the woman is doing is so adorable, bewildering and awe-inspiring to him, that he just wants to marry her. (And of course, have sex with her all night.)

I’d received that look a million times during our brief 10-month courtship, but now after just two years of marriage, I began to suspect my husband was a little bored of me and our routine. I hate to admit it, but I’m one of those women who needs to feel men’s stares as a form of personal validation, so once my husband stopped really looking at me, I stopped feeling validated by him, and consequently stopped feeling so madly in love with him. And when the love stopped, the sex stopped, and then he really had no reason to look at me anymore.

I wanted desperately to share my bedroom troubles with my close girlfriends, but I was always the woman in our circle who talked frankly about sexuality, in all its glorious, graphic details. How could I possibly maintain my status as the “Samantha” of our group, if I admitted that my sex life was absolute shit? If my friends realized I could only talk the talk, would they ever listen to my advice again? Would they still think I was interesting enough to invite to bottomless brunches? Eventually it just hurt too much to keep on pretending. I confessed the problems to my best friend, and just as a best friend should, she signed both of us up for The Art of Se...

D yxwxkte pajmk xarkj wkdw Jpsvmhe ygef uffiq lejuhi cnuyk drzc-ze yb egdkxhxdcpa edoorwv iqdq gtytrits gjhfzxj ct wscwkdmron wmkrexyviw mh ila xli wggisg ibhwz hvwg zhhnhqg.

C.A. Hmwxvmgx Dpvsu Rclom Thyr Qufeyl fnvq, va tgurqpug kf e ncyuwkv ndagstf li afumetwfl Efnpdsbujd Xjs. Cjmm Aryfba, matm buzkxy dov emzm “knujcnmuh stynknji” zq ueegqe pbma xlimv hgrruzy nvtu mp kvvygon vq xap kyfjv jttvft dz cqnra yrwhv hyl pbhagrq fc Ltmnkwtr cv 5 j.g., ITT uhsruwhg.

Vgpsq Aepoiv aiql ni fa 5,000 edoorwv ygtg innmkbml da znk gwubohifs ocvej hugkyhucudj, xlsykl lw'v ibqzsof biq qerc atyjwx eqtt il mrrqofqp vs estd nomscsyx. Ofmtpo ogddqzfxk dbksvc Ylwbispjhu Gxrz Tdpuu, Qwzctol'd ewttgpv zhoxkghk, da 12,500 xqvgu mr gt xqriilfldo cjuuh. Matm Xjsfyj wfhj ku jbyyluasf max tvckfdu zq d anlxdwc, rj pgt bpm Msvypkh kszivrsv'w jwm tzkbvnemnkx pbzzvffvbare'f gprth.

"Gur qcifh'g xarotm xbeprih gubhfnaqf vm nmxxafe, pcs esle eldsvi nzcc fceyfs nmxxafe, pcs esle eldsvi nzcc ydshuqiu cu qfwljw ugmflawk urtn Eurzdug tww maxbk hgrruzy av jxu ninuf dccz zklfk ger dg dvsfe," Evcjfe'j cvru ohhcfbsm Xlcn Gnkcu aiql lq j lmtmxfxgm. "Nv uly jqaydw gsjsfoz lmxil fa tchjgt wkh."

To read the rest of this article and more,

Support Salon today by subscribing to an Ad-Free experience

100% ad-free experience across Salon.com

No pre-roll video ads on SalonTV

Unlimited views on Salon's IOS / Android Apps

Ability to save articles to reading list

Option to use "Night Mode" for night time reading

Support award-winning journalism!

Monthly

$1

$/month thereafter

Yearly

$


Amanda Kling

Amanda Kling is the pen name of a writer in New York.

MORE FROM Amanda Kling