Friday Afternoon. Sylvia Ryan

      Standing at the threshold of my garage door, I look out into the cold quiet. Heavy snowflakes fall straight to the ground, stark white against the black night. There’s no wind, only silent accumulation. I grab my shovel and begin pushing the even layer of four or five inches that’s piled up.

      My brain draws a similarity between the imperceptible inching of snow and the subtle acceptance of circumstances that happen over time. I’m ashamed at the turn of events, and even more so that Mia’s revelation regarding our life together caught me off guard.

      After all these years of sex being an afterthought, first for her and then, because of the gradual acceptance of how things were, for me, too, I’d stopped looking a long time ago for the signs and signals indicating Mia might be interested in returning back to sexual practices we shared before the twins were born.

      Early on in our marriage, our love was incandescent, glowing hot and bright. Mia was the sun and, to my eyes, everything else paled to a dull gray in comparison to the vivid elation life held when she was near.

      Our sex was explosive. With her, I felt completely safe exposing my somewhat shady and highly explicit sexual needs. She blindly followed my lead headlong into questionable and kinky practices, always open to anything I introduced to her.

      Shit, my cock gets hard just remembering it. I stop to adjust myself before returning to my snow removal.

      I smile at the memories rising to the conscious part of my brain. She was the perfect woman for me. But it was never the same between us after the girls were born. At first I waited, holding back and ignoring our sexual needs. Mia barely kept her head above water with twins and a full-time job. Back then I paid close attention, looking for any indication she was ready, anticipating the moment we’d return to the sizzling lust once burning between us.

      I never saw it.

      With our new family, the dynamics within our home changed. The balance of power between Mia and I shifted. She was “in charge” of the kids, the home and by default, our sex life. She had a lot on her plate.

      Then the months stacked and became years. After so much time of almost nonexistent in quantity and vanilla in quality sex, I stopped looking for the signs we’d ever return. The little sex we’ve had since the twins were born hasn’t held my attention much, and I stopped wondering if she cared years ago. After years of withstanding the bubbling need to dominate Mia like I used to, the urge gradually faded.

      I stop pushing the heavy, wet snow and lean against the shovel to catch my breath. The warm air from my lungs creates wispy clouds as I exhale hard fast breaths. I take a moment to experience the wonder of the utterly black sky dotted with stars and the silent peace of the moment.

      I love Mia and I’ve never cheated. But I’ve thought about it. Only someone with the knowledge of what it feels like to live this way for a long time can come to understand the thought processes of people who are unfaithful to their spouses. My guess is most of the time, the cheater loves their partner. They only do it for the thrill, the excitement of new sex with a new person. It’s the anticipation of the forbidden act, the rush of brushing bare skin against someone new, the desperate I-can’t-wait-to-fuck-you kisses as clothes fly off and bodies surge toward the bed that captures a person’s interest.

      I grip the handle to my shovel and begin pushing snow again.

      Now she’s ready. It’s time to take back my role within our marriage.

      This is it. It’s my time. No, it’s our time again after so many years. I’m going to do everything possible to be the man I long to be both in and out of the bedroom.

      I feel twenty-five again. I savor the power rushing through me at remembering the slow progression of Mia’s training all those years ago. It’s potent. Jesus. The comfortable mental slip back into that man feels totally natural. I recognize, maybe with the first truly clear head I’ve had on this subject for years, precisely how stunted we’ve become.

      There’s nobody to blame but me. She took on so much. The least I could have done was ensure we didn’t land here, where we are today.

      I push my last strip of snow and walk back toward the house, drawing in a clean breath of air and blowing it out.

      It feels like I’ve been freed.

      I’m going to give her everything she wants, and take everything I need.