Page 66 of Marriage and the Midlife Crisis

I finally roused myself enough to turn on the lamp next to the couch, then asked Melanie if she still wanted to have dinner together.

She jumped at the sound of my voice, then shook her head. “I think I’m just going to go back to the condo. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

I didn’t either. I couldn’t bring myself to urge her to stay. I wanted to, desperately, but I sensed that she needed time alone. Time away from me, and I couldn’t exactly blame her. If I could have crawled out of my own skin, I’d be doing it right about now.

I didn’t sleep well that night, alternating between missing my wife and trying to figure out how I would ever be able to atone for my sins. When Thursday morning rolled around, I pulled into the parking lot of Kim’s building ten minutes early. I didn’t see Mel’s SUV and tried to calm my nerves as I watched for her arrival. Relief flooded through me when she pulled in five minutes later. Until that moment, I wasn’t sure if she would show up.

I’d thought about texting her several times on Wednesday, but didn’t know what to say, or if she even wanted to hear from me. I ended up not sending anything at all.

I exited my car and hurried over to greet her and walk her into the building. The wind was bitterly cold as it swept across the parking lot, and she was shivering by the time we got inside. I instinctively went to wrap my arm around her to pull her close but stopped awkwardly when I realized what I was doing. I dropped my arm and stepped back, causing her to glance up at me questioningly.

I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile, then led the way down the hall to the therapy suite, feeling like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.

We were directed back to Kim’s office right away, and she greeted us with a smile as she pushed away from her desk and wheeled herself to her regular spot while Melanie and I took our seats on either end of the small couch.

After exchanging pleasantries, she got right down to business, asking if we’d had a chance to speak after the session on Tuesday.

I looked to Melanie to take the lead, since I wasn’t sure how much of the conversation she was willing to divulge. She shot me a quick glance, raising her brow in question.

“Are you OK with me sharing what we talked about?”

Mel’s question was soft, and hesitant.

“Yes,” I answered firmly. “It’s not pretty, and I’m not proud of it, but it’s something that we need to work through.”

Kim looked at me quizzically, then turned her attention to Melanie as she explained her dissatisfaction with our sex life. She didn’t go into quite as much graphic detail as she had when we’d talked, and I wasn’t sure if that was for her own comfort or if she was trying to spare my feelings. Either way, I cringed as she spoke.

When Kim asked how I felt about what Melanie had shared, I was honest. “I was shocked, and I still am. I’m horrified that I treated her that way. I’m ashamed that I was so damned selfish.” I stopped and scrubbed my hand over my face, trying to stop the guilt from swamping me completely.

“I’ve talked to our sons from the time they hit puberty about treating women with respect. It’s hard for me to accept that I failed so miserably at that with the woman I love.”

“If you’d treated me as if you loved me, none of this would have happened,” Mel interjected. “I felt like a blow-up doll that you used and then put away when you were done. It’s why I stopped initiating sex, and then you complained about that, too.”

“Did you tell him why you stopped?”

“Yes,” she answered Kim. “He complained about it several times, and each time I would tell him that I was too tired from taking care of literally everything, and too upset about the way he’d been treating me – either criticizing or ignoring me – to be in the mood for sex. That’s when he would take me out to dinner, and I’d get a glimpse of the man I loved. He’d be charming, and attentive, and we’d go home and have sex. It took a few times for that cycle to repeat before I actually realized what was happening. He was just placating me, and then the next time we argued about it, he acted as if it were the first time he was hearing that I was unhappy. I was so frustrated and hurt that I…I just stopped trying.”

“Ryan, did you notice any of this?” Kim’s tone was carefully neutral, but I still felt the guilt lashing at my soul.

I heaved a sigh, then admitted, “Not as much as I should have. I knew she wasn’t as interested in sex as she used to be. She stopped initiating it, and many times when I did, she told me that she wasn’t in the mood. At first, I thought she was withholding sex because she was mad at me for being gone so much.”

“Was that something Melanie did?”

“Never, but then we’d never argued that much before. We’d have little spats here and there, but nothing like that. Then, the arguing pretty much stopped, yet she still wasn’t interested. I…I thought maybe it was hormonal,” I confessed reluctantly, and Melanie scoffed.

“Hormonal? Because I’d just turned forty? Seriously, that’s the best you could come up with? I was getting old and dried up…it had nothing to do with the fact that you were acting like a complete jerk most of the time, when you bothered coming home, that is.”

I dropped my head and took a deep breath, then faced her.

“Yes, and I realize now how fucking stupid that was.”

“Ryan, you said that the arguing pretty much stopped. Why was that?”

I didn’t have an answer for that, and when I said as much, she turned the question to Melanie.

“I got tired of arguing about the same things over and over again. It hurt that he wasn’t listening.”

“I wish you’d made me listen,” I admitted softly, and fuck, that was the wrong thing to say. Melanie swiveled her entire body around to pin me with a look that shriveled my balls.