Spent the whole weekend at the in-laws.
As expected, another sexless weekend. My in-laws live a couple of hours away in a new development full of old people. The neighborhood is uncharacteristically sandy, with some pebble-stone streets and newly installed faux European street lights, amplifying its already obsequious kitsch. They took the time and spent the money to renovate their pool and bought a hot tub three years ago, and that's pretty much the only thing that would convince me to go visit these days.
This trip was planned a few weeks in advance. Since D and I are still not talking all that much at this point, she made doubly sure that she demonstrated what she wanted to do over the weekend by loading up all her essentials into the car 24 hours in advance. We have two cars, and mine is a 5 year old Subaru Outback. It's really an ugly car, with a dusty dull green color and a hatchback that barely works. She picked up the kids on Friday, and I begrudgingly moved both child seats into my car. Those of you who have kids would know the awkwardness every time, as these torture devices are designed to barely squeeze through the car door in a conspiratorial way, and securing them can also be frustrating, especially with Henry fanatically complaining in repetitive verbal noises that vaguely resembled "out, get me out!"
D's parents are old school residents, and they've lived here for a long time. D's father, Ron, was a vet who barely avoided Vietnam by being a communications director working for the army. Even though he had a slight build and talked in a soft, barely audible voice, he boosted an extensive, ridiculous obsession with military things. He would often want to draft me into listening to his long diatribe against the current administration, mostly because of his belief that defense strategy had been unacceptably pathetic. Occasionally, especially when he had a few, he would talk about his sexual conquests when he was out of the country and stationed near Fiji, on an island whose name I can never remember. Most of the time, however, he along with her mother, are very much preoccupied with their grandchildren, and certainly do not pay enough attention to me for me to complain about it.
In the evening, the older and younger folks go to bed early, and I skinny dipped first in the hot tub then in the pool. The water in the pool was freezing, and it made me feel vulnerable and gave me a headache. The jets in the hot tub always had an erotic implication for me, though I truly did not have any energy to pursue such a massage on Saturday. I used to use that hot tub for that reason all the time, and it worked pretty well even over my swimming trunks, as the warm jets slowly massaged my swollen glans. It was always slightly too intense at the point of no return, and I would grab onto to the wall of the tub as the inevitable arrival of squeezing motion descended on me, and everything would tighten, then relax, then tighten again. A few seconds later, a few speckles of viscous threads would escape through the openings around my thighs and rapidly flicker out to the gutter with a moment of dance of the whirlpool. This Saturday night wasn't one of those nights. When I walked back to the bedroom, I was naked, D had her back to my side and the light was off.