Marry, Boff, Kill My Husband

I am sick of being bitter and feeling like I’m drained dry and not being loved well.

Do you remember the ‘Marry/Boff/Kill’ game? You list three celebrities or historical figures and figure out who would be most pleasant to spend life with, who you’d most like to “boff” (possibly the world’s best word for sex) and who most deserves killing. Like, say you list Napoleon, Queen Elizabeth, and Weird Al Yankovic….how would you order them? (Obviously you marry Weird Al- how fun would that be?) Anyway, it’s a great game to play over family Thanksgiving dinner.

I’ve been thinking lately- as my husband and I *barely* survived another impossibly hard year- that my desire to marry, boff, or straight up murder him in the face has always rotated; same two people, a million different relationships. This is probably normal among my peers. (IS IT NORMAL!? HOW CAN WE KNOW THESE THINGS?) There are times I find him my biggest comfort, there are times I find him a stranger. There are times I can’t get enough of his smell and body against mine and other times his touch burns. Sometimes the same jokes and stories feel like home and other times I cannot believe anyone could be so dumb and annoying. Throughout our nineteen years there have been times I’ve shopped for apartments, certain it would be best for me to leave. There have been…