We did not fuck for a week and Mary Ellen was climbing walls. We were arguing over the least little thing and our relationship was getting a bit frost... and I knew it was all due to her sexual frustration. By the end of that week my dick had recovered somewhat and we were back to having sex three and sometimes four time a week, but that wasn't near enough for Mary Ellen. I love her dearly and I did not want to lose her, but our marriage was not going to survive if the fighting continued. So one. My hair is long and flat, and an unimpressive, lackluster shade of brown. My eyes are my biggest complaint. They are the queerest shade of green. I have often thought of getting contacts in a striking shade of blue, but I never seem to get around to it. Needless to say, I have very little confidence in myself, or at least I did. Recently, something happened that affected my opinion of myself. One evening I was working, reshelving some fiction, when I caught a glimpse of a stranger reading Henry. More

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