"It's okay."
"I'm really sorry," he said for the one hundredth time.
"Tim, it's fine."
I was trying to reassure him but he was awkward and embarrassed.
"You're probably just stressed," I suggested but he continued to avoid my gaze. He sat on the edge of the bed, his cheeks burning but not from his nakedness.
"We can do it anyway," he said rather hesitantly.
"Wouldn't that hurt?"
He half looked at me.
"I don't mind," he said softly.
Most times when he said things like that he was trying to be coy. Now he was trying to please me at his own sacrifice.
"Don't be stupid," I replied rather coldly. I shouldn't have but I couldn't help but see the association that existed in his head of lover and abuser. I wanted him to want it, not to simply tolerate it.
It had been weeks since we had last had sex. About a month and a half. Tim, rather worryingly, spent most of his time sleeping and the times he was awake tended to be at three in the morning or when I was working. It seemed of late that he would disappear for hours at a time and when he returned he would make no comment as to where he had been.
I told myself I wouldn't ask so as not to annoy him but really I was too proud and stubborn. 'Fine, let him sulk' I would tell myself. I hoped he would tell me what was going on eventually but that seemed to be coming later rather than sooner.
Each time when I would kiss him and touch him he would moan dramatically, the perfect performance. But I could tell he was struggling to even get an erection let alone maintain it. Things were strained between us, not least because of the pressure we were both under for work.
I would snap at him for small things and he would resent me for it. We lived under a constant cycle of arguing and then resolving it through counselling and then fighting again.
One thing that I had noticed; and which confused me, was his insistence to avoid alcohol. Sometimes I would deliberately offer him some to try and understand why he was behaving so strangely. He would stare vacantly at me and then shake his head, as though to rid himself of bad thoughts.
"No, but thank you for the offer," he said each time in the same mechanical way. It was eerie and concerning.
The muscles in his back tensed as he stood up. No doubt to disappear for hours on end.
"Wait," I said hurriedly.
"Let me give you a massage," I offered, knowing it was one thing he wouldn't refuse. He loved the tactile attention and feeling closer even if it wasn't through sex. He stood for a moment and I smiled. I knew him too well.
"No thank you," he said quietly as he retrieved his clothes.
"I'm just going for a walk."