It’s up to me? If it were up to me, we’d be having sex every night.

Anyway, he’s Japanese. We live in Japan. The norm here is that you take a shower before sex. Should be the norm everywhere, but whatever.

This morning, he wanted a kiss. I was doing something and playfully rejected him. He said, “No kiss, then no sex tonight.” So naturally, I quickly kissed him, and we laughed.

Fast forward to the night, he’s going to get in the shower and asks if I’m going to shower later. I already know what’s going to happen tonight. Call me fucking clairvoyant, but I know he’s not fucking me.

So I say, “Should I take a shower?”

“It’s up to you.”

Translation: “I don’t want to, but I guess I might do it if I have to.”

Translation of the translation: “I don’t fucking want to have sex.”

Call me crazy, and yeah, I am, and a little drunk, but after we had time to watch a show and cuddle together for the first time in forever, I was feeling confident and initiated anyway.

“You didn’t take a shower.”

“I can wash myself right now,” I know it’s a bluff. I’m calling it. I’m not getting blamed for this, and I used to cut myself in junior high so I’m no stranger to self harm.

“I’m tired.”

And that’s that. Well, not going to stop him from staying up hours past when I go to bed. He’s probably just going to watch porn and jack off anyway.

I feel like I shouldn’t complain. We had sex twice last week, and I don’t even remember when we had sex twice in a month before that (that he didn’t tell me he regretted later). But I’m so exhausted from this whiplash. Deciding to give up hope and try to move on, but then being pulled back in. Maybe this time when he said we could have sex later, he meant it? Maybe he’ll try tonight for me? Well, no. He’s “too tired.”