My husband keeps suggesting date night like one plate of pasta is going to fix ten years of being overlooked.
There is a bartender at the place near my office who remembers my drink, my name, and the fact that I hate small talk. He leans closer when I speak. He notices when I cut my hair. He once touched the inside of my wrist while handing me change and I thought about it for three days.
I have not done anything. I know exactly how pathetic this sounds.
But when my husband says we should “reconnect,” all I can think about is that bartender looking at me like I am not somebody’s exhausted wife.
Now the comments get a turn.
Read the room, state your case, and try not to become the reason the next submission exists.