The Routine
By Haspotay. Fourteen years of marriage, and our sex life has settled into a pattern so predictable I could script it. Not that I’m complaining—every time we do it, I get that familiar rush of humiliation that I’ve grown to crave. But the routine itself is a constant reminder of my limitations. It always starts the same way. Joanne will be scrolling through her phone on the couch, maybe after dinner, and she’ll sigh in that particular way. “I’m horny,”
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