"It's not like it's that big of deal." Roger said wearily.

"Not a big deal? Not a big deal?!" she responded, her voice seething and shrill, "We'll see when I start swelling up like a balloon, when we have diapers to change, college to fucking pay for!"

Sighing Roger protested, "We're married for Christ's sake! It's what 'married' people do, right? It isn't my fault the condom slipped off!"

The way he said it betrayed something, in the darkness her eyes widened in shock and she knew it was indeed his fault the condom 'slipped' off. She started to reply, to escalate the fight, but her anger just deflated.

'Fuck', she thought, 'I didn't even finish.' This was, of course, the normal way things were working for her these days. The sex, which had always been mediocre before marriage, had turned into robotic motions, with fewer sessions per month than she had ever dreamed of. Why didn't her husband want her more often? She was open to new ideas, had never turned him away and yet 'the horse had stopped drinking at the trough', so to speak. It had deteriorated so much that a few weeks ago the woman had not fulfilled her birth control prescription, which she had passed on to Roger. The ironic thing was that since she went off of her birth control Roger had shown her more interest than ever.

'Three weeks and we've had sex, it was never lovemaking anymore, four times, damn but they were like a couple of wild teenagers!' Sarcasm never helped, it just often felt good. She had been married for four years, she was twenty nine years old and her friends, parents and now even her husband seemed to be on the baby war path. The dirty little non-secret was that she didn't want kids. She never had, her mom had 'pooh-poohed' her opinion away, telling her daughter she would change her mind when she got older.