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For the longest time, my husband had been ignoring me in a number of ways. When he arrives home from work, he usually goes immediately to the den where he pours himself one scotch after another, leaving me to eat dinner alone. On the rare occasion when he does eat with me, the meal usually passes in silence despite my efforts to engage him in conversation. Yet, he ignores me in other ways as well. I have no doubts that he's fucking his secretary. I mean, the perfume that drifts from his body and clothing after he's "spent an evening at the office" certainly isn't mine. And when I do try and stimulate him sexually, he seems unable to create or maintain an erection. And asking him to fuck me is like asking a man to try and stop a train.

I know marriages can grow stale after so many years of familiarity, but I tried hard to keep my marriage to Ben alive year after year. Despite my fifty-six years of age, I keep myself in decent physical shape by working out and eating the right foods. I have flaming red hair which Ben told me attracted him to me when we first began to date in college. And my figure is still flattering enough to draw the attention of other men. I'm tall for a woman, and despite my height, I love wearing high heels whenever I leave the house. To entice Ben, I've purchased clothing that I thought he'd like to see me in: low-cut dresses that show an ample amount of cleavage, the high heels that accentuate my shapely legs, or sexy lingerie that I wear around the bedroom to entice him. But for the past five years, I've received nothing in return from him. Even when I agreed to breast augmentation surgery to increase the ...

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