Winter 2005 was bleak and dreary. I was single, new to a large city and occupying a sad excuse for an efficiency apartment. Christmas was nearing, and “retail therapy” wasn’t curing my solo holiday blues. It was, however, consuming the remainder of my credit limit.
Like most newlyweds, Josh and Lauren had anticipated the unity and ecstasy of married sexuality. Even though their honeymoon wasn’t perfect, they still hoped they would “click” and discover the ultimate beauty of sexual oneness. After two years of frustration, their optimism began to wane.
My friends’ husbands do the most extraordinary things. Things that leave me shaking my head in wonder. Laundry, for example. Dishes. One husband makes pancakes on Saturdays, and another makes pies from scratch. They change the empty toilet paper roll and go grocery shopping.