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I once lamented to my friends in a group chat that I missed dating someone because I missed having someone who was forced to try new restaurants with me, or a standing lunch date to keep me, an extroverted writer, from losing my mind when I’ve been working alone too long. My friend pointed out that…

After the party, she’s wine drunk, and we are sitting on the back porch of her beautiful home. We told her husband we were going for a walk.

“Sure, leave! Don’t worry about cleaning up,” he said brightly. “This is why I pay people, to do all of this. So, sure, walk!”

I am afraid of him. I’m a…

They wanted me to say they are the exception to the rules. But I don’t know this. I don’t know their hearts or their deeds. I don’t know the socks they leave on the floor or the sex they refuse to give. But more important, I don’t want to be the arbiter of someone’s morality. I think of my father s…

The last time we had sex was his birthday. We spent the night fighting. And when we finally had sex, I felt empty and shelled out. I was just a body. A flesh bag used for another person’s pleasure. After he was done, I sat on the couch and cried. I wouldn’t do it again. I wouldn’t separate myself f…

In All of This, Rebecca Woolf writes of her own marriage, which ended when her husband died of cancer, “At the time, I thought I was being brave by sticking it out. By staying together for the kids. But it isn’t brave to sit passively in your misery…. The bravest women I know are not widows. They a…