Hopetown Road

Sex between and Landon and I has become rare anymore, and I am getting restless. We always agree that because of the nature of our relationship, that we are so trusting, loving, and most of all respectful of one another, that sex can and eventually will take a seat on the back burner. We both agreed somewhere along the line that this is okay, but lately I am beginning to doubt the health of this agreement.

It is the Tuesday prior to Thanksgiving, and both babies are fast asleep. Mom is in town again, and is also asleep in the guest room down at the other end of the hallway. I have come up to bed early, ahead of Landon as per usual, but I awake at around midnight when I instinctively realize that the bed lay empty beside me.

Our nightly routine is well, routine. Since sex has begun to really disappear off the landscape of our marriage and because neither of us appears to be bothered by that, I go to bed generally an hour or so ahead of Landon, and he sneaks in later so as not wake me up.

This goes on, month after month, with no sex. If we ignore the problem, as in every other aspect of our lives, maybe the subject will simply go away. Or maybe it doesn’t even exist in the first place. Problems? What problems?

The time comes when we cease talking about the subject altogether, each of us hoping the other would never bring it up. It can’t possibly be a problem if, number one: we don’t speak of it, and number two: our relationship is so good otherwise, who really cares? Turns out, we both care a great deal, but neither of us has the desire to rock the boat, to overturn what is such a fantastic thing: our relationship.