Sitting at the kitchen table in Phibsboro at 2am eating cold rice Sitting at the kitchen table in Phibsboro at 2am eating cold rice from the fridge. Lights off. He's asleep upstairs. Baby asleep. The fridge keeps humming. I keep thinking. About what. About this. Eight years married. One kid. He's a good fella. Genuinely. I love him. But. The but is the problem isn't it. The but is that I haven't wanted him in maybe a year now. Maybe more. We do it sometimes. I go through the motions. He doesn't notice or he pretends not to. I'm a nurse, work night shifts in James's, came home an hour ago and the rice was still on the counter from his dinner so I just ate it standing up then sat down. I think about other people. Not anyone real. Just the idea. The idea of being wanted again in that way where you can feel it. He used to look at me that way. He looks at me kindly now. Kind isn't the same. What do I do. Is this normal. Is this just what marriage becomes and I should shut up and be grateful I have a kind husband and a roof. Or is this something I'm supposed to fix before it becomes something worse. I don't even know what answer I want.