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Show 3*3 .*?. First there was a pause in our relationship which I almost missed, a suspension as quiet as a held breath, she stopping and stepping back from me, holding off as if Rto think things over, or to re-think me. I looked at myself, I wasn't acting as if I owned her, I thought I was doing fine. But a tartness began to flavor her voice, an impatience I had not previously heard: would I be more thorough when I washed the dishes? Would I please clean the bathroom; It was my turn and the place was a pigpenT With acting school taking much of my time and us now sharing the housework, she seemed to feel she had more right to get picky about the quality. She disagreed with me about menus, household duties, schedules. I felt she resented getting up early to go to work while I stayed in our warm bed, and that she took it out on me, unfair, but all I had to do was see our clothes hanging side by side in the closet and I turned soft and conciliatory. Since she got up early and went to bed early, and since I slept in, went to classes in the afternoons and evenings and to bed sometime after midnight, all right, I would change my schedule, get up with her and go to bed with her. I was very pleased with my sacrifice but she shrugged and said it didn't matter, not to be afraid I would miss a littleA»ew* "Don't change your nice comfortable routine just for that," she said. I tread lightly on that one, said it was no trouble, I sort of liked the early-to-bed, early-to-rise, good-old-farm schedule. I dsaid it wasn't the sex at all, it was simply to have more time with her, and she looked^skeptical as an I.R.S. agent. The more I insisted, the more skeptical she looked. I didn't know what was wrong. |