After a break from blogging — I wrote a three-part piece about in-laws, in which I probed others' lives instead — I'm back, ready for more self-analysis. On the surface it seems there's not much to catch up on. I haven't left my husband of five years, Rob. But I do have new ideas about why we stay together, stuck in relationship limbo.

Rob and I serve each other in ways that aren't exactly healthy, but old habits die hard. His particular behaviors and peculiar idiosyncrasies compel me to react hurtfully: He drinks too much or is forgetful, so I feel neglected and dream up a Mr. Right about whom I'll fantasize for hours, ignoring Rob.

And he uses me similarly: I leave for an evening out with my girlfriends, and he feels abandoned and therefore justified in gaming on the computer for hours and drinking.

Around and around we go in a vicious cycle.

In each other we've either found the person who most effectively pushes our buttons. We're hurtling along the narrative arch of a second-rate drama filled with predictable slights and over-reactions.

This drama needs a serious rewrite. Hello...Central Casting? Yes, I'd like to order up one devastatingly handsome, contemplative, highly intelligent anti-hero.