Page 52 of Unmatched

I take the plates out of his hands, washing up the mess in the kitchen while he takes Heartthrob out in the yard and throws a rope toy for him. I take extra time scrubbing all the pots and pans and loading the dishwasher. Once I’ve wiped down all the counters, the stove, and even the cabinets, I realize it’s gotten dark out and my husband and dog are still outside.

There’s a window in the kitchen that looks out onto the patio in our postage-stamp backyard. I catch the glow of Anton’s phone out there at our little table, and my gut twists. When we agreed to thirty days, he promised not to go back on Unmatched. But we’ve been spinning our wheels for three days. Would he actually return to it this soon, and practically right in front of me? I peer out the window, squinting through the dark. His back is to me, and I can just make out the screen over his shoulder. My breath pauses as I watch him scroll.

He’s reading some kind of article. Not browsing for girls.

I exhale and head to our bedroom. It is the strangest, most uncomfortable feeling, sharing space with someone you care deeply about when it feels like there’s some sort of wall between you. Since our conversation in the park, we have gone to bed, woken up, been to work, and returned home three times. The needle hasn’t budged on our relationship at all. I look into the mirror above our dresser and frown. Caprice suggested I try to find what used to work, but I’m still not sure what that is.

I hear Anton and Heartthrob come inside. The dog runs to greet me, but my husband stops in the bathroom. I glance at the bed, a familiar knot forming in my stomach over what will or won’t happen there. I toss my robe on the chair and quickly slip under the covers to at least prepare myself before he comes in. Anton follows a few minutes later, and maybe he thinks I’m already asleep, because he doesn’t say anything. I relax at this possibility, which is quickly followed by a flood of guilt. We agreed we’d work on our sex life. So why do I just want to roll over and go to sleep?

Anton’s as far to his side of the bed as he can probably be without falling off, but he’s awake, still looking at his phone. I shift around, adjust my pillow, try to broadcast my consciousness. I suppose I could just sit up and suggest we have sex, but I don’t want it to seem forced. On impulse, I reach up and push the straps of my camisole over my shoulders, slipping my arms out and pulling the fabric down. Exposing my breasts under the covers but not leaving me totally nude. Now if Anton reaches over, he’ll find a surprise. I smile to myself, clear my throat loudly, and lie still. Waiting, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

Minutes go by. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move.

But I’m ready.

His phone clicks locked after a little while, and the room goes fully dark. The bed shifts as he moves around, and I tense up, sure that his tits-radar or whatever will tell him I’m over here half naked. Or maybe he’ll at least brush against me and put it together. Instead, he just burrows down into the covers without coming any closer.

I bite my lip. Maybe he’s not in the mood.

If he was, wouldn’t he reach for me? I push the straps back up and roll over too, trying to get comfortable on the pillow. Maybe I can just sleep tonight after all and we’ll work on things later. Tomorrow. I close my eyes and try to relax, listening to our mingled breathing. But after a while, to my utter chagrin, I realize I wish he had found my surprise. Had wanted to come searching for it. I actually, almost, sort of wanted him to.

A little pang shoots through my chest.

I am definitely doing something wrong.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jessica: Welcome to the Come And Get Her podcast. We’re your hosts, Jessica and Isabella, two licensed sex therapists here to educate men on how to get ladies off. We’ve got a fabulous show for you this week—Demi Lane visits us again to give us the latest on all her new favorite couples’ toys—but first we’ll get started with a selection from our mailbag.

Isabella: I’m excited about the mail this week, Jessica! Very often we hear from younger men looking for tips to land themselves a second or third date. But this letter is from an older gentleman and I love what he is asking. Let me read it to you:

Dear Jess & Izzy,

My wife and I have been married for twenty-five years [aww!]. We’ve been through a lot together, raised a couple of kids, and our sex life, while not amazing, has always at least been pretty steady. Lately, however, it seems like she’s lost interest in me. I’ve tried giving her space, coming on to her, buying her gifts. Nothing has worked. Every time I try to initiate, I get excuses. She’s tired. Too busy. Maybe tomorrow. I’m not sure what else to do. I don’t think she’s seeing anyone else, but I’m not sure how to rekindle the spark. Do you have any advice?

Sincerely,

Cold Embers

Jessica: Oh, Embers. First of all, I just want to acknowledge your courage in writing this email. You must be feeling so alone, but you’ve reached out for help—and that’s what we’re going to try to do.

Isabella: Jess, I have a feeling this one is about the big D.

Jessica: For sure. I had the same thought.

Isabella: Okay, so men—listen up, all of you, for a second. Yes, even you guys who are doing everything great and getting laid every night. Congratulations! We’re glad you’ve been following our advice.

Jessica: Now, boys, here’s the great big caveat to everything we tell you: People change. Bodies change. Relationships change. And the really big one...so does desire.

Isabella: I could literally spend a whole episode on that word.

Jessica: Right? [laughs] Okay, so I think most of us here are familiar with the cliché about wives not enjoying sex.

Isabella: Um, let it be noted in the transcript how hard I’m rolling my eyes—this is half the reason our show exists.

Jessica: Absolutely. Okay, obviously, many of our regular listeners know at least ten ways to get a girl off in ten minutes or less?—

Isabella: We have failed if you don’t.

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