A few days after Ben changing my definition of sex, and Rick celebrating by attacking me every couple of hours all weekend long, I was sore. Sore, and in need of cranberry juice.
I had to cut Rick off. I had more happen to my vagina in the past week than the rest of my life leading up to it and I needed a damn break. He understood and promised to leave me alone until I was ready. I was promised the dinner of my choice (I married an excellent chef) and a no-sex massage (I married an ok masseuse). God, I love that man.
On Sunday I went to church with my parents, as always. Rick skipped out, as always. As always I lied about him having to work, which does happen a lot. In reality he cracked a beer as I was leaving and was likely trimming the hedges while I was on my knees, taking communion, wondering if adultery was still a sin if your husband was into it.