It’s Valentine’s Day and I don’t much care, but I think I should do something to show Fella that he is loved, anyway. Because he is. At least, the part of him that I hardly ever see is! Loved and missed.

I don’t have a clue what to do. No vehicle to go buy a card or chocolates, so I guess I’ll have to cook something special, god knows what.

Or I could wear sexy underwear and offer myself for sex. We’d both enjoy it. But it seems phony to do that when there is no other intimacy.

It’s been suggested that sex could lead to intimacy. It’s true; it can. But it’s hard to get past the hurdle around here.


1 p.m.

My chosen strategy is to be led by what I can do to show him he is loved, even though I don’t feel loved myself.

I don’t have it in me to do something that makes me feel bad — like having sex with someone I’m pissed off at.

What I do have it in me to do is to try to adjust my own attitude or set it aside in order to do something nice for someone else.

In service of that thought, I have scrubbed up all perdy, donned my sexy underwear, pulled on a see-through top, and provided a written hint that I am open for business today.

Wearing sexy underwear always makes me amorous, and feeling amorous is half the battle when it comes to me and sex, so … I will greet him with a hug and kiss when he walks in the door, and I’ll offer to run him a bath, and we’ll see what happens.