Mine is the only naked body my husband is allowed to see. It isn’t the only one his eyes have gazed upon. That number would be in the hundreds. Likely thousands. Maybe even hundreds of thousands. There becomes a point where the amount becomes meaningless. The magic number is one. Me. Anything beyond that is inviting someone else into the center of our marriage. Into the core of his heart and mind. Where only I am supposed to be.
My husband has been successfully battling his porn and sex addiction for 3 ½ years. He hasn’t done it perfectly, but neither has he had any serious relapses. Occasionally, I ask him when the last time was he masturbated. Or looked at sexually explicit or arousing images. (You know, just in case we define lust and pornography differently.) I am pleased with his answers and trust their truthfulness. He has received such healing and freedom from his addiction that his heart change is evident. In the way he loves, cherishes, admires, serves me. How he spends time with me talking, hanging out, laughing. The hugs and kisses. His presence emotionally and physically. Our growing intimacy. Behaviours and attitudes that were glaringly and painfully absent throughout our porn ravaged sexless marriage.
One of the most terrifying things I have done in my recovery from sexual betrayal trauma, and at any time in my life, was undress for the first time in front of my husband after twenty five years of his sexual shaming and rejection of me. I fought my fear and anxiety as I vulnerably and shakily removed my bra to expose the breasts that had so often received his undeserved criticism. Knowing that if I caught even a fleeting look on my husband’s face of disgust, disapproval, disappointment or an attempt to conceal any of those reactions, I was risking further damage to my soul and the possibility that any hope of building intimacy could be lost forever.
My husband didn’t laugh, or gag, or cover his eyes, or run from the room screaming. He slowly smiled. Slowly, not because it seemed that he was trying to find an appropriate response. Slowly, as if he was drinking in and appreciating this new sight. I relaxed slightly.
But a problem remains. Mine is the only naked body my husband is allowed to see. And his apparent disinterest causes my heart to ache. Still.
I have asked my husband why I never catch him either obviously or surreptitiously watching me change or undress. Although I don’t want my body to be sexually objectified, I still need assurance that my body is noticed, admired and desired by my husband. I want to feel pretty and beautiful and sexy, not just through my own eyes, but my husband’s as well.
He told me that he is trying to be respectful. It’s hard to argue with that. But I wonder if the reason he offers is just a morally acceptable, and perhaps kind, deflection of a disinterest or aversion to my body. I have also questioned whether it is related to the recovery tools he uses to overcome lust and his porn addiction. That in his attempts to rewire his brain, he exorcises my body along with the fantasies. I never received a satisfactory answer. Which makes the first scenario the most likely. And also the most hurtful.
If, and when, I accept the respectfulness factor as the truth, that leaves me with another shaming dilemma. I enjoy looking at my husband’s naked body. And though I don’t lustfully gawk and ogle, or say anything distasteful or inappropriate, I don’t hide the fact with my eyes or words that I am admiring what I see. But logically, if he believes it is disrespectful to look at my nakedness, then it is also wrong for me to look at his.
Either way I feel shame, guilt and disappointment. That my husband declines to behold my nudity, even knowing that I welcome it. That I take pleasure in the sight of his. And that this is one more way his sex addiction has stolen freedom from our bedroom and my ability to express and experience healthy sexuality.
I no longer take my time openly undressing, hoping to notice my husband peeking at my body with desire and appreciation. I have returned to my old habits of changing in darkness, with my back to him, under the covers, removing my bra without removing my shirt. Whatever it takes to conceal the vulnerability of my physical self.
As we lay in bed talking about our day, I now refrain from strategically lowering the blanket and positioning my body to offer a glimpse of what is underneath my pyjama top. Instead, I tuck the quilt under my chin and over my shoulders completely covering my body from exposure to my husband’s eyes. Ironically, he finds this look adorable.
Mine is the only naked body my husband is allowed to see. My hope is that one day that will be a joy filled reason to celebrate rather than a reason to cry.
Let your wife be a fountain of blessing for you. Rejoice in the wife of your youth. She is a loving deer, a graceful doe. Let her breasts satisfy you always. May you always be captivated by her love. Proverbs 5:18,19