Running Out Of Steam

If Robbie was a dog he'd most definitley be a Bassett hound. A very large, lumbering one with floppy ears and fin-like turned out paws and a nose as keen as they come. Cheryl loved Robbie, she did, but she misses the young, fit and feisty Rob- the one more akin to a Coon hound or German short haired Pointer. Active and alert, curious and on point. The man who would wake her up with great morning sex and then hustle her out to the gym or for a run where they would laugh and whinge and moan and end up at their favourite local indie roaster for smart coffees and splurge on a decadent pastry every now and then. Now that occasional indulgence is three times a day for him, the sex has all about disappeared and Cheryl can't remember the last time Robbie laced up his trainers let alone logged some miles. Recovery is hard, she gets that. It took nearly 12 weeks of solid rehab and physio to repair her achilles but she bounced back, she had to. Robbie on the other hand, took her down time as an opportunity to check out completely. You'd think he was the one with the limp and tear, the way he shuffled and lounged around the apartment. Evenings were no longer about making great meals and catching a show or some live music, long hikes in the bluffs; no, Robbie became distant and discontent. Cheryl thought maybe he was depressed- his dad was getting worse, the home care was full time now and his sisters weren't making things easy on anyone. Still his job was solid, which was more than she could say about hers. Seven years in and suddenly Cheryl understood the whole itch thing. How was she to reconcile the present Robbie with the man she fell in love with all those years ago? Was she just being shallow, yearning for the passion and physical connection that defined them in the first five or six years? It's not like we're ancient, decrepit wizened non sexual beings, far from it. In fact Cheryl felt her libido rising these days, catching her off guard at times. Thank god for toys and youporn. But really, something's gotta give. Life with a Bassett hound was just not cutting it.

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