I needed wine to quell my raging insecurity about the extra thirty pounds I had gained in the twelve years since Kit and I met, extra padding I feared only drew more attention to how far out of my league he was. I needed wine to dull the shame I felt over Kit and me not having had what he referred to as “big boy sex”—intercourse—in more than two years. I needed wine to ease my guilt about waking up early each morning and quietly jerking off to porn while Kit lay asleep next to me, because it was easier than initiating sex and getting rejected or, even worse, having sex and being reminded of
...more
