I wanted to let all these thoughts go, but I just — I couldn’t. I’d clearly gotten into some kind of rut with Ben. It was comfortable because it was safe, but on the occasions I wanted more, nothing seemed to work. I could dress up, try a new style of makeup — hell, once I even took six inches off my hair, and he still didn’t notice. I grew it right back out because I liked it long, and he never seemed the wiser. Aunt Esme assured me that men were “just like that”, but in retrospect, she was the wrong person to take advice from. I don’t think I’d ever seen her with a single partner, male or female.
I just wanted so badly to be normal, so I accepted it as part of any relationship.
But as time dragged on, he grew less and less interested in being intimate. Sometimes he made me feel like I
