The final straw was not a furious row, nor had anyone cheated. Instead, our 17-year marriage casually collapsed with a conversation in the kitchen one morning.
As I rinsed strawberries in the sink, my husband barely looked up from his laptop when he asked, "Are we ever going to have sex again?"
By then, we might go a month or – let's be honest – two without doing it. But wasn't that the case for most 40-something couples with kids? My girlfriends and I often joked (usually over wine) about how many times we "should" have sex with our husbands to keep things on track. The kind of obligatory sex that leaves no one particularly satisfied.
