My husband fearlessly carries my purse, helps our daughter shop for prom dresses and enjoys being the passenger in my car.
It was his fault. Not theirs. He didn’t deserve me and I should have left years before.
I’m always surprised when someone blatantly does the deed in front of me.
I remember the moment it hit me, like a punch in the gut.
How on earth could I have been married to a man for 15 years and not recognize that he had Asperger Syndrome?
I wondered what was so wrong with me that I couldn’t inspire a man to make a fuss over me.
It sounds counterintuitive, but hear me out.
My sister celebrated something that resulted in a level of devastation I’ve yet to recover from.
It’s not fat sex. It’s just SEX. Human sex.
Love lessons from mermaids, hookers and Gérard Depardieu.
Open marriage has its challenges, but personal time outside of being a parent is a great reward.