I was fifty-six years old when I first began to wonder whether, after thirty-one years of marriage, my husband no longer saw me as a woman.chfr
Robert had always been an affectionate man.
When we were younger, even if he was just passing me in the kitchen, he would take my hand, wrap his arms around me from behind, or kiss me before bed and say,
“You’re still the same girl I fell in love with.”
But over the last two years, almost all of that had disappeared.
At first, I didn’t think much of it.
I told myself it was age.
We weren’t twenty-five anymore.
There was work, exhaustion, stress, everyday problems.
But then I began to realize that Robert wasn’t simply being less affectionate.
He was avoiding me.
Whenever I went to bed early and called out,
“Come to bed soon tonight. Let’s spend a little time together.”
He would answer,
“I just want to finish this movie.”
If I went into the living room and sat beside him, within a few minutes he would stand up.
“I’m getting some water.”
“I need to check an email.”
“My back hurts. I think I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”
One evening, I made a special effort.
I had bought a new nightgown.
I did my hair.
I even wore the perfume Robert had loved on me when we were younger.
When he walked into the bedroom, he looked at me for only a few seconds.
I smiled.
“The kids have had homes of their own for years. Tomorrow is Saturday. You don’t have any reason to rush off to sleep tonight.”
He wouldn’t even look me in the eyes.
“Linda, please. I’m exhausted tonight.”
I pretended it didn’t hurt.
But when he turned his back to me, I lay there staring at him for a long time.
That was the first night I allowed myself to think the words I had been trying so hard to avoid.
Maybe he simply doesn’t want me anymore.
