Another week had come and gone.

I thought to myself. Not so much of a kiss, a hug, or even an intimate high-five. God what I would give for one of those high-fives where you hold each other’s hands briefly right after they slap together, both smiling into each other’s eyes and thinking “are we gonna do this bro? here? In front of our Fraternity brothers?” Its like raw dogging a high five, basically hand fucking between 2 people.

Jesus Christ I am losing my god damn mind.

I laid in bed, carefully selected lace underwear totally hidden beneath my comfy pajama pants and thick covers pulled up to my waste. My husband - who after 6 years of catatonic sexual appetite - sat next to me. A useless lump. Half the time looking like a potato with limbs and half the time like a Greek God, sun-soaked muscles rippling in the air. It was one or the other, neither, and both all at once. My desire to be touched, loved, lusted, and wanted ebbing and flowing like an unruly river.

Mr. Potato Man. Hercules. A Red Skin Potato with really nice hair. Zeus, but with Mr. Potato Man’s nose between his legs.

As I sat there, simultaneously repulsed by the thought of this Spud’s penis coming anywhere near me while also desiring nothing but it, his hand gently touched my calf under the covers.

What? Huh? Must be an accident, its only been 4 months since he pathetically tried to –

My thoughts immediately slammed to a halt as his foot gently reached out and touched the arch of my foot.

Oh. My. God. Oh My God. Oh-My-God. OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod OhMyGod!!

The old sign. From our youth. When we fucked each other silly at least 5 days a week. When we skipped class and only ate enough to keep our bodies fueled for sex. When he would spend all day seducing me and all night making me cum. He must still know! Deep down this Russet Potato of a man still recalled something about what I like. About what I want!

I rubbed my foot back, eager to feel the thrill up my leg when the mood struck. I never understood why, and at the moment I didn’t care. For once my “why do I still bother” underwear would get to see the light of day. The gaze of a hungry man.

As our feet continued to flirt, I could feel the heat running up my body. My legs instinctively opened, welcoming what was soon to come. My vag already wet as anticipation grew and grew and grew. I couldn’t believe it, I had longed so much for sex – any sex – but this was something more! An authentic desire I could sense in him. I could feel him matching my own.

I looked over at my husband right as he put his phone down. I was ready for his full attention. I wanted his hands. His mouth. His cock. I wanted him so bad that as he reached over it was almost too much for me and my overlooked needs could take. As he brushed my furthest shoulder I thought he was looking to roll me over, driving me mad with the realization of the animalistic sex machine he had somehow become.

But he didn’t flip me over. He didn’t kiss me. My open legs and throbbing genitals remained untouched, ignored. Instead he grabbed the tablet that was charging on my night stand.

“Going to go play candy crush downstairs” Said Mr. Potato Man, as he walked out of the bedroom, never looking back.