I put my sweet friend's music on to play last night, and let him sing me away in to my dreams. I snuggled into my blankets, yearning for that explicitly grand connection that I once felt toward my husband. That need, that love, that exquisite agony that compelled me to think of him, crave him, need him all day every day. Now, I am empty, devoid of all feeling but this insatiable lust for other men. And my special friend keeps singing on...

My husband woke me this morning. His voice again dull and lifeless. He rambles on about some disinteresting idea, a farfetched plan that will never work and holds about as much mystery as a diaper wipe. I want to talk about real ideas--politics, global warming, music, writing, gummi worms, and world religions.

Now, I am back to my daily activity. I scan my email eagerly, hoping that somehow my beloved has already awoken and contacted me. I scan my MySpace to see if my other, long-ago interest replied to my message.

Oh, how desperate I am! How much I crave attention and love, the fury of passion and lust, the driving force of compassion, kindness, intelligence, sympathy, adoration!!!

Aha! A message!

I live for this. For the connection I feel with these other strangers. The ones who look me in the eye. The ones who have never cheated on me. The ones who regard me with intrigue and interest, who know something of politics, world affairs, and proper grammar. Oh, how I yearn to be theirs!

We must remain only friends, however. I am not pretty enough for them, and I know this. I also know that they know my husband too well to ever take me as their own. Although I know for certain that one of them looked at my cleavage last night.

Last night, I realized that it is more than just myself that my husband has lost interest in. Our son, as well, suffers from his neglect. He said more to me than he did to Baby, and he hardly said anything to me at all. Thankfully, our friends entertained the baby quite well.

I should have chosen a better father for my sweet son. I should have chosen one of these men. Maybe for my next child? Perhaps not, although the creation process would doubtlessly be fun.

Oh, the emptiness in my soul cries out, "Love me! Love me!"

I am not so far out of love that I would like a divorce. I want things to work between my husband and I. But how can I, when his love is himself and his precious computer, and mine is sitting across the table? Or just over the internet? On the other end of the telephone line? In a long-ago memory?

I would take any number of my new friends as a spouse. All of them show me such great respect and kindness.

If it weren't for this damn ring.