This story is shared by an anonymous M’sian woman who regrets marrying her husband because he insists on consummating their marriage every night.
When I first met my husband, it was like I was in a fantasy novel that had sprung to life. We bumped into each other—quite literally—at an art gallery in KL, both of us admiring a painting by a local artist. He laughed, apologized, and said, “Funny how some things just draw you in, isn’t it?”
From that moment, I was enchanted. He was kind, attentive, the kind of man my parents had always hoped I would marry—honest, dependable, someone who would cherish me forever.
Our nikah ceremony was a grand affair, with over 200 guests, a sea of smiling faces beaming at me as we said our vows. I had never felt so certain that I was stepping into a perfect forever.
It’s been 6 months into my marriage, and my friends always tell me I’m lucky—my husband provides for me, he doesn’t drink, doesn’t gamble, doesn’t hit me. What more could I want?
But after what happened lately, I don’t feel lucky. I feel… trapped.
I don’t know how to say this without sounding ungrateful, but my husband wants to be intimate with me every night. And I hate it.
If I complain, he brushes it off, saying it’s because he desires me. That I am so beautiful, he simply can’t get enough of me.
That should make me feel wanted, right? But it doesn’t. Despite my protests, he never listens to what I have to say, even when I tell him I’m tired or I’m not in the mood.
It makes me feel like my body isn’t mine anymore. Like it exists only to serve him.
I used to try to resist. I told him I was tired, that I just wanted to sleep. He just said, “You’re my wife. This is a normal exchange between us as husband and wife.”
The first time it happened, I felt confused. Shocked, even.
That night, I had just come home from a long day of running errands and meeting appointments. It was raining heavily and I’d been stuck in the jam for more than an hour. I was tired, drenched, hungry, and when I got home, all I was looking forward to was a hot bath where I could enjoy some peace and quiet.
When I stepped out of the shower, my husband was on the bed waiting for me. I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, already drifting off to dreamland, when I felt a hand on my thigh.
“I was waiting for you, Marla (anonymised).”
His hand slipped under my shirt. I shook him off, mumbling ‘Not tonight, I’m tired,’ but he didn’t seem to hear.
The next day I woke up in a blur. I was half-awake, barely conscious – but I remember it all the same. We had sex, right? I wasn’t feeling up to it – but it’s okay because he’s my husband, right?
Something felt stuck in my chest. A feeling of dread, heaviness, and unresolved guilt. And that feeling didn’t disappear, no matter how much I pushed it aside.
I was raised in a traditional Malay household
I was raised in a traditional Malay household, where we were taught that a wife’s role is to serve her husband. I still remember the ustaz during our kursus kahwin (pre-marriage course), the way he emphasized that a wife must never refuse her husband’s needs.
“Even if you’re tired, even if you’re upset, even if you don’t feel like it,” he said, “A good wife will always answer her husband’s call.”
I believed it. But I thought it’d be a two-way street – that my husband would be equally attentive to my needs as well.
How naïve I was.
On my nikah day, when I took my vows, I was again reminded of my duties. My tok kadi (imam who officiated the wedding) looked at me and said, Jangan derhaka pada suami—do not be disobedient to your husband. The way he said it, his book in hand, stern eye, and the weight of my whole family watching me – it planted a seed.
So, every night, when my husband reaches for me, and the creak of the bed becomes eerily familiar, I remind myself of those words. What my parents told me—that marriage is about sabar (patience), sacrifice. That a husband is like a leader, and a good wife must follow.
But it doesn’t feel like sacrifice. It feels like I am being sacrificed.
I want to talk to my mother about it, but how can I? She was so happy when I got married. She told me I had found a good man.
My father even said, “Layan suami elok-elok” (Take good care of your husband), reminding me of my duty to serve him. And after everything my parents sacrificed for my wedding—after his family covered 60% of the costs—how can I now turn around and say, “I’m not happy?”
I don’t even know if what he’s doing is wrong. He’s not violent. He doesn’t hit me. He just expects it. And if I refuse, he doesn’t argue—he just takes it anyway.
So I let it happen. It doesn’t matter if I want it or not – my needs don’t matter. He provides everything else for me anyway. If this is a small sacrifice to be secure in a marriage, so be it.
The only price I have to pay is that one moment at night – where I close my mind and let everything else disappear. My thoughts fade, and I wait for it to be over. I don’t know how it is possible, but every morning, I wake up feeling a little smaller and emptier inside.
Why do I feel this way?
I’m scared to leave. Scared to stay. Scared to even talk about it, because what if people say ‘that’s just the way it is’ or ‘just bear with it’?
What if they say it’s my fault for not desiring my husband? What if this is just what marriage is?
If this is it, can someone tell me so? At least I’d know if I would be waking up every day of my life feeling a little less whole.
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