Nobody warns you about a dead bedroom.
You'd think there'd be fighting. Arguments. Anger out in the open.
But that's not what happens.
It's just quiet.
You go to work. You pay bills. You cook dinner. You sit on the sofa together. And you don't touch. Because somewhere along the way, you both stopped expecting it.
We went from intimate every other night to once a month. Then once every two months. Then I stopped counting.
The strange thing is how fast you get used to it.
Sleeping next to someone and never touching them becomes normal. Waking up beside your wife and feeling completely alone becomes normal.
Everything becomes normal.
I'd lie awake and think about other men. Not because I was jealous. But because I felt beaten.
I'd think about blokes at work. They talked about their wives with warmth. They left early for plans with their partners. They seemed to actually want their wives. And be wanted back.
I wondered what I'd done wrong.
What I'd become.
The story I told myself was simple: it was me.
I'd lost it. I wasn't the man she married anymore. So why would she want me?
I believed that for years. I actually believed that.
