I think it's sick. Sick, sick, sick, sick, sick.
BUT. The fact is, in this time and this place, in the predominating culture in this country, a marriage contract does, indeed, have a "sex clause."
Some people put it under "love." Some people put it under "honor." Some people put it under "cherish" (or "obey," depending on just how antiquated the marriage vows your particular preacher uses happen to be). Some people put it under, "Forsaking all others," on the assumption that the unspoken agreement is, "If I agree to forsake all others, I'd better be getting plenty of YOU."
It makes me want to vomit, but that is how it is.
I thought it wasn't, back when I got married. We even talked about it. We agreed that, although we both understood that "sexual gratification" ranks in the bottom tier (the most basic necessities) on Maslow's hierarchy and should be made available if at all practical, there was NOT a "sex clause" in the marriage contract. We agreed that there was no, "You should get it so often, for so long, in such and such a manner."
And then birth control pills thrashed my libido. And once that was over, we had a kid. And PPD. Both of which take quite a bite out of your sex life. Then two kids, then three kids. And PPD plus regular depression. And... And... And...
There is an unspoken understanding-- one that WILL NOT BE SPOKEN, even if you approach it directly-- that, within a marriage, there will be sex and the sex will be good. Like, dating-good. "I am putting on these lacy underwear and getting this body paint to impress you" good.
I don't like it. But it is definitely a fact of the unspoken culture of marriage in America (and for that matter probably anywhere).
I think he ought to rot in jail. I think that repeatedly drugging and raping women (make that people) in general ought to land you rotting in jail. Doing it to someone who (presumably) trusted you enough to marry you ought to be the same or worse, certainly not a lesser offense, in the eyes of the law.
But there's de jure, and then there's de facto. The way it ought to be, and the way it is.
They usually ain't the same thing.
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"Alas, our dried voices when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless, as wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar." --TS Eliot, "The Hollow Men"