Next time? Dude thinks there’s gonna be a next time?
And so I went home, disheveled and unsatisfied, wondering once again if a working brain and a working p***s were always mutually exclusive in a man.
My epiphany came while waiting at a stoplight a few days later. I was headed home after running errands, and I knew that my home was the last place on earth I wanted to be. I knew I didn’t care if I ever had a big house again, or huge credit lines, a BMW or any of the trappings that came with my being a corporate wife. I saw myself gratefully flipping burgers, and willingly living in a dark, dank apartment for the rest of my life if I had to. I would have done almost anything to avoid living one more day in my dead, twenty-three year marriage.
My husband came home from his business trip t
