The phone rings, playing the joyfully tropical ringtone I selected. It is meant to cheer me up, and strangely, it does. I answer, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," His sweetly seducive voice whispers, It pours over the phone with the sweetly addictive taste of honey. It fills my ears, my heart, my soul. The emptiness that has been lingering so long is filled so completely--if only for a moment. I can almost feel the warmth of his breath upon my neck as he whispers so quietly. My hands begin to shake with anticipation.

"Hey," I try to remain calm, but my voice cracks in the middle. My heart aches with the beautiful pain of unquenchable lust and desire. I yearn to touch him, kiss him, stroke him, feel him, love him... I take a deep breath, and ask, "What's up?"

"I just wanted to hear your beautiful voice," he responded, his voice sinfully quiet and luxuriously deep. "It's been so long."

"I know!" I sigh, stretching out over my bed. If only he were here now, and my bed not so lonely. If only I could touch his face, kiss his lips... I want so badly to hold him close. "I've been having such a hard time being away from you."

"Me too," he whispers, his voice quivering at the end. I can feel his passion, his loneliness. I want so badly to fill that void in his heart. We could complete each other. We could heal each other's wounds, and fill the emptiness of our hearts. If only we could be together. If only. "It will happen soon, though."

"Will it?" I ask skeptically. I've often dreamt of that moment, when we could finally be together. When I could finally feel his touch. I want to taste his kisses. I want to feel the warmth of his body, and hear the beating of his heart. But as often as I've dreamt of that day, I never expected it to really come. "How are we going to do that? There's too much in the way."

"I have a plan," he continues, hushing me. The strength in his voice silences all my fears. "I'll stop by during the day, and leave around 5. Then we can be together every day."

My heart nearly cries for joy. "Are you serious? Do you think we can get away with that?"

"Yes, my love," He says kindly, his voice growing excited also. "It will be hard, and it'll take work, but we can do it."

"I hope so!" I said, elated. "This is so wonderful!"

My love was finally going to be mine! Completely mine! For all of my daytime hours, I would be able to bask in the blissfulness of his love. My shattered bliss made whole, made perfect int his wonderful man that I love with all my heart. I am so happy, and surprisingly not ashamed.

"I have to go now," he said quietly. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too," I whisper. "Have a good day."

"You too," he says. "I'll be home soon."

"Good," I say. "I'll let Baby know his Daddy's coming home."

And with that, my husband hung up the phone and I--surprisingly overjoyed, amazingly twitterpated, and happy beyond measure--danced with Baby around the kitchen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The significance of this post, doubtlessly, is lost on those who have not read the earlier Episodes. I would suggest you do so before you try to get what is really going on here. At least  read one or two.

Also, to clarify--my husband is not allowed to live at home. Therefore, he has to come home during the day to see me, and then leave again to go back on the post. Curses to Army training!!!!

I knew from our first kiss that eventually we would fall out of love, lose our passion and the newness and novelty of our relationship.

 Yet it seems to have taken me by surprise.

Damn relationships. Damn morals. Damn religion. Damn marriage. Damn wedding rings. 

 And damn stupid teenagers (I was 15 when we "fell in love") who think that "love" is all they really need.

Yesterday I decided I need to start waking up earlier. I decided to try it today, and I set my alarm to go off at 8:00 am. This was, of course, torture, as I had been eagerly checking my email until 2 am, with hopes of an email from my sweetheart. I laid down with great sadness in my heart, bitterly disappointed and feeling unloved, unworthy, uncared for and utterly depressed.

But it was beautifully compensated this  morning.

I decided to reset my alarm for 9:30. I got up, moved arounda litte, got a glass of water, and laid back down. I decided to check my email once more. I saw that I had several new emails, and I excitedly looked at the senders. One was junk, the others were from my grandmother. No sign of my dear.

So, I checked my MySpace. I did so with great excitement, and I couldn't keep my hands f rom quivering. I waited as the page slowly loaded--much to slow for my taste, yet the feeling of anxiety, waiting, mingled with the depths of my desire was the most delicoius, exquisite agony that any mortal could endure. My heart was torn between wanting to see  if I had messages and yet wanting never to know, so that my heart might go on in this sweet, blissful pain of passion.

The page finally appeared, and my heart soared to read the beautiful little red words: New messages!!! Hooray!!! I eagerly clicked on the link, and as I waited, my excitement and fear grew stronger. I feared it was just junk, or perhaps one of my other friends. I was afraid of getting my hopes to high, but I realized that it was too late for that.

AHA! The page loaded! And what message did I see?

Linda, offering a pahtetic subject of, "Free digital camera? It's here!"

But wait! Just below it, the name of my beloved. Ahh...... Good morning, beautiful.

And I slip away into fantasy land once more.

No "special" friends today. Just me and my husband.

Today, he tried. It was noticable. He didn't use the computer all day. He watched Baby while I slept. He held me close. He gave me hugs and cuddles. He was kind. He spoke nicely. He waited on me. He didn't criticize.

He gained a few points today, but not enough to recover him from weeks of negative scores.

Nevertheless, he will be gone for the next week because of military training. I will not be able to see him or talk to him. This certainly isn't going to help our marriage at all.

I want so badly to make it better, I want so badly to make it right. Why is it so impossible? Why do I feel broken all the time? Why?

I have always fought so defiantly against divorce, against the stereotype. I have fought like mad against those who said I would never make it.

And here I am, making all of their statements come true.

How sad, how pathetic I am!

Just a lonely heart, in a lonely world, searching for a little joy...

My husband's strong hands wrap themselves around my neck, his long fingers entangling themselves in my hair. A fit of passion has possessed him, and he clings to me as though I am the only woman on the earth. His lips roam my body, his tongue gracefully and wonderfully teasing my flesh. His warm breath on my skin is strangely unmoving. He holds my body close, clinging to me as though I were life itself. He pulls me on top of him, trying to arouse me with his touch. He whispers my name and pleads with me to pleasure him.

For the first time, I am numb. The softness of his voice, the sincerity of his eyes... it all means nothing to me. Nothing.

I give him what he wants, trying to waylay his suspicions. He wants kisses, so I kiss him. His breath, once so sweet and warm, is so unwelcomingly lingering with my own. His tongue probes my mouth, and I find myself drifting away into boredom. He caresses my body, and I nearly jerk away with disgust. He is trying to rekindle the passion we once had, and I am spitefully going through the motions.

I must do this, however. When I arrived at the restaurant this evening, he pulled me aside from our friends. He gave me a Look and asked, point-blank, "Why are you all dressed up?"

I haven't done my hair, makeup, or dressed nicely for the last several months. Tonight, I went all-out, getting prepared for the evening. Our "special" friends from last night were supposed to be joining us. My husband had noticed my crestfallen expression when he said they wouldn't be coming. It was at that point he asked if he could talk to me privately.

"For you, of course," I reply, offended. Few things are as offensive as the truth, you know. "Why else would I dress like this? I put a lot of effort into how I looked today, and I did it for you."

"Thank you," he said, clearly relieved.

How innocent and naive he is!!!

That's alright, though. I've been in his shoes before--I know what it's like to want to believe a lie. I wanted to believe he wasn't a porn addict. I used to want to believe that he didn't have phone sex with my friends. But he did, and it's done with now. I first thought to justify this as punishment, but it has gone much farther than that. I have no interest in my husband anymore.

I went on with my evening, craving to check my email to see if my beloved had emailed me yet. Still no response. How I miss him! How I miss the way my heart dances at the very thought of his name...

My husband used the laptop today. I panicked when he looked at the history. I forgot to delete Shoutpost from my history. He has taken to checking my email, checking my MySpace, etc. etc. I feel like he's stalking me, just to make sure I don't do anything drastic.

How I would love to have an affair.

Being trapped in my husband's embrace was torture to my soul. I felt like I was betraying my beloved. How I would love to feel his arms around me! How I would love to rest my head against his chest, and snuggle so close against him. How I would love to sink into his embrace, to finally find my peace and rest!

But still--I am married! I should be seeking to love my husband, not dreaming of another. I want to love my husband. I want to want him. I want to need him with the same need I have for other men. I want to be able to talk to him and care for him and enjoy his company.

But it doesn't feel possible anymore.

How far hidden is happiness from my eyes! Alas, alas... My sorrow is near too much to bear.

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.

I love the scent of his cologne, the beauty of his face. The mystery in his eyes and the way that he looks at me as though he really cares. I love the attentiveness in his every feature. The way every inch of him pays attention to every word I say. He respects me. He talks to me, and he listens when I talk. He makes me laugh and laughs with me. He smiles.

How long has it been since my husband smiled that way at something I had to say?

I look beside me, at the stoic face of the man I married less than two years ago. How have things changed so drastically betwene us? How have things become so fake, so stiff, so untouchable? How long have we called each other  by our full names, not even allowing simple nicknames like 'honey' and 'sweetie'? How long have we existed, two strangers bound by simple, naive vows of youth?

I return my now saddened gaze to the man across the table from me. He is eagerly waiting for a response, the way a new puppy eagerly awaits a treat. We continue to talk.

My husband continues his frenzied work on the computer. Who can blame him? He doesn't get much time with anything these days. Work takes all of his time. The hours that remain are split between myself and the computer--and it is the latter that he prefers these days.

I itch to steal the laptop from under his fingers. I yearn to check my email, to see the sweety lyrical words of my newest friend, a boy I once oved but let go, many years ago. How sweet are his words to me! My heart thrills to see his name appear on the screen. It's been hours since I last read his name, or his kind words to me. Our relationship is purely business, I assure my husband. Purely business.

But my husband is checking my email daily now. He suspects it is more.

How could it be? My friend knows I am married, that I am bound by these vows I uttered.

The vows I uttered while I was still in love. In love with what, I wonder? With this man that now sits beside me, empty and devoid of love, compassion, kindness, caring, interest? I could find more romance in a paperclip!!!

What shall I do? I wonder to myself. I am surrounded by kind men who flatter me, who appeal to me. People that I can talk to, about world affairs and politics, down-home cooking and music. Peole that are interested in the things I'm interested in. People who intrigue me, interest me, and provoke me to thought. People that I enjoy.

Men that I enjoy.

Men that I enjoy... a lot.

Men that are not my husband.

Mmmm... I can hear his amazing voice calling my name, even now. Calling me to slumber, so that I can find myself entwiined with him in some far off, verdant paradise. I can smell him, the sensual, alluring scent that makes me yearn for him to draw closer, to make me his in every way, and to claim me as his own, moving my soul with a passion I have yet to experience. 

I have not yet had sex with another man, or gotten close to it. But the emotional pull I feel is so strong. I feel so connected to these men, these handsome, intelligent men. I hear the beauty of my name upon their lips, the respect in their voice when we talk. I hear the kindness of their thoughts, the gentleness of their speech, and the brilliance of their mind. I am overcome with lust--not for their bodies, but for their minds and hearts. Oh, my soul! How I could love them!

But alas, I must not. For I am bound, am bound.

Would that my husband would love me again! Treat me like a lady again! Dance with me, sing with me, play with me, touch me, kiss me, love me again! Respect me, adore me, cuddle me, whisper to me, and seduce me again!

But alas, I am bound, am bound, to this man whose heart has long stopped caring, and mind has long since wandered away. Two strangers in one house, unhappy, and bound by unconquerable pride, a drive so strong they cannot succumb to divorce. Bound by fierce honor, that they must obey their vows to the letter.

Yet in the night, I am not his; I am another's. I willfully dance in the arms of another man, with a sultry voice and a brilliant mind, strong arms and a great appreciation for knowledge. In the night, in my mind, I am another's.

Daily Humor: http://www.ece.ust.hk/~mchan/interest/jokes/politics.htm