(Apologies to those trying to follow this debacle chronologically: The following was originally posted out of sequence, and should have been published between Well that could have been awkward and Of elephants and albatrosses.)

It was 7:30am on Sunday when She snuck into the kitchen.
The time was significant because a) it was early for Her on a Sunday, and b) I’d been up for more than an hour.
The day was significant because, as per The Schedule, we were supposed to have sex before breakfast.
The fact that She snuck in, quietly opening the door and closing it behind Her, was significant because She was trying not to wake the rest of the house, or let the cat out of the kitchen for the same reason.
Her: How are you doing?
Me: OK. You?
Her: Yeah.
She walked over to me. I had my laptop on my lap, and it wasn’t until She got closer that She could see I was pinned down by the slumbering feline. (It’s a real PITA trying to type with a cat on your lap, but sometimes She will insist, and I didn’t have the heart to throw her off.)
Her: I was going to say do you want to come back to bed, but we can save it for later.

That night, as we readied for bed, I was t in the mood. That’s not to say I wasn’t horny, I just didn’t want sex with Her. Or maybe I didn’t want to engage emotionally with Her. Whatever it was, the result was I wasn’t in the mood.
Her: How are you doing?
Me: Tired. You?
Her: Tired and achy.
That was a relief.

4 Responses to “Later”

  1. So would you say the lack of sex was on you? But maybe the real question is why don’t you want to connect emotionally…

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