For some reason, Rob is less needy lately. When he isn't in constant monologue trying to describe every experience he had while we were apart during the day, I'm more curious about how he spends his time. I have questions for him and we can dialog. This works for me. I guess without Rob breathing down my neck, the time we do spend together seems more...pleasant!

Our trip to the meditation center was helpful — our program allowed us time together apart from the group, plus time apart from each other. We struck a nice balance.

Due to the quiet-hours rule and no television, we went to bed together at the same time — a big change in routine. At home Rob retires after 11 and I fall asleep on the couch. I usually wake around 1 or 2 and go to bed. That leaves no awake time in bed together. At Kripalu we stayed up comparing notes on the workshop and laughing about quirks of the other participants. I felt downright close to him! (I even let him spoon me as we fell asleep.) 

This closeness has come just in time for the stressful holidays. We're about to embark on a four-day family extravaganza covering 1200 miles, three families, and two turkey dinners. Into that mix throw a new step-father; a father with Alzhiemer's and a needy girlfriend; and a brother who says he's not going to show up, but just might, probably drunk, flask in hand. If there's a time I ever needed a partner, it's now. 

If my editor at First Wives World one day decides to decrease my word limit all the way down to one, no problem. I could still convey my feelings about my marriage. In a word: meh. Rob drinks too much — meh. We don't have sex — meh. Now Rob is turning things around — meh. Life ekes on, and it's hard for me to muster anything other than indifference over my lackluster marriage.

Indeed, sometimes I wonder if the only reaction my posts about my endless indecision elicit is a big "meh" from readers.

There was never a wife so wishy-washy. It's not without justification entirely — my husband was indifferent to my needs and feelings for the first few years of marriage — but it's embarrassing nonetheless. Some days I wonder what's wrong with me.

So I had to laugh today when I read that the powers that be (in this case, HarperCollins, publisher of the Collins English Dictionary) legitimized the expression. Yep, "meh" is in the dictionary. (So is "yep," by the way.)

When I read it I thought of our honeymoon. (I believe we had sex once the entire week — and that includes our wedding night. I should have known then to expect trouble ahead.)

Our lakeside cabin came replete with a fireplace, canoe...and one fluffy orange cat as neighbor. We laughed whenever Buttercup came around. "Meh...meh...meh," she cried at the porch door.

We thought it was adorable that she couldn't muster a complete "meow." But now I have to wonder, were our little friend's pleas a warning? Maybe she knew something we would remain in denial about for years. Smart cat. 

Knowing I'm running the risk of harping about my sex dry spell too much, I've decided not to write about it again until something gives. That is, starting right after this post — I just couldn't shut it down without passing along these nuggets of hilarious wisdom from a couple of good friends!

One says regular sex is like going to the gym: You know it's good for you, you should go, you always like it when you get there, and you feel great afterward. It just takes a lot of effort to get out the door...particularly if you haven't been there in a while.

Another points out: "There are so many external and internal expectations about sex that can doom it. Why can't we just unscrew our heads and screw!" 

Ah, friends. The best ones know when (and about what!) we could use a chuckle.

Rob is away tonight. He's undergoing a sleep study in hopes of uncovering why he wakes so abruptly in fear at night. Poor guy, he's probably sick in the head from lack of sex!

Which reminds me: A reader asked what, when many men would go elsewhere for what they aren't getting, is Rob's deal? How can he manage to go so long without it? I've imagined the worse: he's getting it elsewhere (highly unlikely), prefers internet porn (could be), prefers MEN (I won't lie — it has occurred to me). I've asked him point blank, but he's infuriatingly evasive.

Okay, lots more to figure out, but no more writing about sex until I've had some!  

I forgot to add this wrinkle to my post about my non-anniversary. A few weeks out, I told Rob I had a business trip to Chicago just after our big day, and suggested that since neither of us had ever spent time in the Windy City, maybe he should come along and we could tack on an extra night in the hotel.

We have no love life at home, so you know, I figured it wouldn't hurt to see what playing around in a new city and retiring to a lovely hotel room could do for us.

He said he'd check about getting a day or two off from work to make it happen, and then promptly forgot, day after day, to do so. Sounds like a guy who is not up for a romantic whirlwind trip away to a new city with his much-adored wife, right?

The truth is we both find excuses to avoid romantic situations. And week after week we work with a therapist on improving our communication and figuring out our shared goals, and never speak of the fact that there's nothing intimate about our relationship. We're all about denial.

A friend recently admitted he has to make a conscious effort to have relatively frequent sex with his girlfriend. He says it's too easy to forgo it in the name of exhaustion or lack of amorous mood, and that he find he has to work at it, as you would in creating a new, good habit. He's never disappointed once things get going, and always happy he made the effort.

But it has been so long for me a Rob — a year and a half — that I can't imagine getting over that initial hurtle...or enjoying the experience, much less make a habit of it.

Okay, I'm making a pledge now to bring up sex at couple's therapy soon. If you think you're getting tired of me posting about my lack of a sex life, imagine being in my shoes (or bed). 

Congrats to Alice on her recent anniversary! I just celebrated one as well: my fifth wedding anniversary. But since my friendly and comfortable relationship with Rob sorely lacks romance, the idea of making big deal about our fifth was a bit embarrassing.

Add to that how I gave Rob an honest yet hopeful note card last Valentine's Day and he gave me nothing (I know, it's a ridiculous holiday, but nothing whatsoever?), and you get full-blown AWKWARD!

A few days out, Rob actually checked in to see how we should handle it. Well, we had already justified our recent vacation by calling it an anniversary gift to ourselves. So maybe we were all set. Plus, we had a block party and another friend's house party to attend on the anniversary date. So we'd spend the day being neighborly.

When our actual anniversary arrived, this time I had nothing for Rob and he had a note card for me. It read in part: "I'm glad to be where we are today.... I'm glad we're on this path together and I love the family and home we've made together."

Oof! I felt guilty. I don't disagree with what he wrote, but even in the face of his transformation from drinker and gamer to more thoughtful partner and fellow meditation practitioner, my doubt about us surviving long-term remains strong. Congeniality and shared interests are important, but when there's no sex, it's nearly impossible to pretend everything is good, much less something to be celebrated. 

I reserve Sunday mornings for the Globe, freshly ground coffee, and Rob. We typically banter about the news. But this week I kept mum while reading a Parade Poll Special Report "The Truth about American Marriage," wherein Leslie Bennetts admits that divorce in the news makes the state of marriage in the U.S. seem like a toxic mess.

Take for example the stories about John Edwards, Paul McCartney, and Alex Rodriguez. But if divorce has made the news more spectacularly more often in 2008, this is not necessarily indicative of the true state of affairs. In this national poll, 88% of respondents reported being happy or content in marriage.

With a divorce rate over 50%, that seems incredibly high! And something I can't relate to.

On the other hand, close to 30% of respondents described their marriages as "peaceful coexistence." Now that sounds familiar. And pitiful, no? It's a bit...lacking.

This I found somewhat shocking: Men are happier than women in their marriages. Nearly 70% of men said they "never" think of leaving, whereas nearly 50% of women say they do — sometimes daily.

Sex? 60% of men and 51% of women aren't having as much as they want. Frequency? According to Bennetts, 31% have sex less than once a month. But 27% have it a few times a week. Nice. But that leaves us wondering about the remaining 42%. Daily? Never?

Labor Day Weekend is over. Fall begins. The answer to my last post "Is Vacationing with my Husband Asking for Trouble?" is no...and yes.

Our trip to California was not plagued with fights or, as I pointed out would be worse, boredom. So we passed that test. No need to board the one-way train to Splittsville just yet.

In fact, Rob and I never fought. I can't remember him driving me up the wall even for a moment! Instead, we giggled on the plane, chatted endlessly with our Californian friends who met us when we landed, snorkeled, rode horseback, dined al fresco, and hiked.

But for all that doing, we didn't do IT. Seems not even time alone in a lovely hotel room overlooking the ocean can make us horny. Instead, we read quietly. Yawn.

While we were away, a young couple moved into the apartment above ours. We haven't met them yet, but we already know a bit too much. At 1 a.m., they get randy. And at a pretty good clip and decibel level. The more they moan, the more frustrated I get.

I want to scream but instead I get as quiet as possible — I think we both pretend we're asleep so we don't have to acknowledge to each other that yes, we hear them, and no, we don't do that anymore. And isn't it a shame.

I know I should get over it, but I can't bring myself to talk about this problem at depth in couples therapy yet. I think it would be easier to test those waters on my own: to find out if there's something wrong with me, and to get comfortable talking about it before opening the Pandora's Box of couplehood.

Anyone know a good sex therapist? A self-help book for sexless couples? I'm making it a goal: By the end of 2008 I'll have had sex with my husband. At least once. 

A while back I traveled in Mexico and removed my wedding band for the duration. I was in search of experiences unfettered by others' assumptions about who I am, what sort of life I lead, and what I value.

I was not looking for any romantic interaction of any kind with anyone I met, but still I knew removing the ring was in some ways unsavory, as well as entirely unfair to Rob, and when I returned I explored the situation and my feelings in a post "Let Freedom Ring."

I had the chance to expound upon that post in an assignment for Tango, a relationship web site — and learned the hard way that not all audiences are alike. The readers, most of whom I assume have not struggled with separation or divorce, were pretty sure I was a vapid, selfish, and idiotic for doing and writing about such a thing.

It may be true. One thing they can't say is I haven't thought about it from every angle. I have. And I don't take any of it lightly.

My first reaction to the other audience's comments was that I had better keep my most embarrassing and damning thoughts to myself from now on. But no. I've got a safe place to explore them.

The community at First Wives World is diverse in thought and approach to life, for sure, but here differences are the seeds of provocative discussion, not vitriol and disrespect. In exposing our journeys, and lending to each other constructive criticism and advice we are suddenly in it together, and "it" becomes something larger than ourselves.

Is my marriage to Rob the relationship I dreamed about having when I was a young girl? No. Do I wish for something more dynamic and fulfilling? Yes.

But instead of getting out there and creating a new life, I'm sitting back, waiting. Life goes on in our cozy Boston apartment. We work, eat, and play as usual. Our marriage is lacking (we don't even have sex!) but arguments are few. We easily split bills and chores, and we have many friends in common.

But if I seem certain about staying put, it's only what I'm letting Rob believe. In reality, I'm preparing the way. I'm breaking free from bad habits that keep me tied to Rob: I'm paying my debt and saving my own money. We're selling our car in an effort to go green, but it hasn't escaped me that it also means one less financial entanglement.

My stealthy preparation might be moot. When I arrive at the fork in the road, I might choose to stay with Rob. After all, there is the chance couples therapy will bring us back together.

But if it feels right to veer off and pursue a life on my own, I want to do it without heading straight for the poorhouse.

If I stay, it will be for love. If I go, it will be for an independence made possible by my own hard work.

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.