Gaslit
She said no. Again. AGAIN she said no. I can’t even BELIEVE this.
“Look, we haven’t had sex for MONTHS. I can’t TAKE it anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about needing a female body and I DON’T HAVE ONE AVAILABLE TO ME. Do you know where I can find one?”
“Look, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” my ‘wife’ said. “We have sex ALL THE TIME.”
“When?!? No. We don’t. We have SEASONAL sex. Once every three months. And lately, it’s been every SIX months!”
“Zeke. Listen to me. I’ve been keeping track. I know EXACTLY how many times we’ve had sex.”
“Yeah. So do I! It’s once every six months. Apparently, I’m the only one who needs it, so I’m the one who knows.”
“Zeke. ZEKE. Look at me. Look. Listen to me. I’ve been keeping a log. I have an ongoing agenda ALL about this. I’ve made a list of all the times we’ve been having sex for the past TWO YEARS, and it’s WAY MORE THAN THAT.”
“What are you talking about? Are you living in the same world as me, or what?!”
“You’re so disorganized, you don’t even know what’s going on, do you?”
“What are you even TALKING about?!”
“I’m talking about sex, Zeke. What are YOU talking about? See? You don’t even know, do you?”
“What?!?”
“You see? You don’t even know what we’re even talking about right this instant. You can’t even keep track of this conversation right now. And I’m supposed to go by you?? You want me to go by YOUR numbers?? YOU need to get your FACTS STRAIGHT first.”
“No. No. What are you even SAYING?!”
“You see? This is why. This is why I’ve been keeping a log for all this time. For exactly this reason. You’re ALWAYS accusing me of things. Things I DIDN’T DO!”
I got nothing. I have nothing now. I am talking to something I don’t even recognize.
She wasn’t finished. The last say had to hers, as usual, as always. “We have sex ALL. THE. TIME. You don’t even REMEMBER it, so I guess that’s how UNIMPORTANT it was to you.”
(And I am so brainwashed, so gaslit, so beaten down by attritional narcissistic abuse and my own codependency that I don’t even think to call her lying-ass out, call her bullshit bluff, and ask to see this non-existent log upon which she had been keeping a non-existent record of all the non-existent sex we had been having for years.)