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We have sex once a month, maybe. When we do its rub here, lick there, insert A into B, and…we’re done. I can barely stand the excitement. We’ve been married for 8 years, I thought. Eight years of last-minute gas station chocolates, hastily picked roadside flowers, and almost no romance. I don’t know why I thought this year would be any different. After all, he doesn’t see the way I ache for him to look at me the same way he did when we were dating, or the way I cherish even the simplest of touches, or the way I cry sometimes when I just can’t take the indifference anymore. It had been different when we first got together though, at least a little. I could actually see his temperature rise when he looked at me, his hand would caress the small of my back as he passed behind me in a casual caress, and he had showed the smallest bit of passion, which I mistakenly had though was a promise of bigger and better things. I gathered up my stuff and stepped out of the car, into the chilly. She told me that she loved me. Then she said that if I’d had any doubts about how much, I shouldn’t have them anymore. I said no, I definitely wasn’t questioning that. She said what had happened was just between us. Nobody else needed to know. I agreed.I don’t remember how I said it, but I asked if she would do it again. Not right then but in the future. She laughed. I think she was relieved that I wasn’t weirded out by what happened. She said we’d have to see.It probably sounds odd considering my own mom had jacked me off, but the rest of the day was pretty normal. My dad came home and heard about me getting suspended. He wasn’t thrilled but I think he was proud that I stuck up for myself. Then Mandy came over like I talked about before.I didn’t have to go to school the next day, of course, so I was home at noon when my mom got off work. She was acting like nothing had even happened. I was thinking non-stop about what she did, but it was like she’d already forgotten about it.Then.
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