"I am so sick and tired of weekends." I said slamming a pillow on the couch.

"What are you talking about?" Robert asked.

"Every weekend all you do is watch sports." I said disgusted.

"That isn't true." Robert said as he frowned.

"Oh you're right. You also eat the food I cook you. That is all that you do." I said in anger.

"Why are you so pissed off?" I asked.

"Don't worry about me. Go and watch your sports. Let me know who wins." I said as I left the living room.

"You don't have to be so bitchy." He said as I left.

I get sick and tired of this. I've been married to him for five years and it is always the same thing. On the weekends he never does anything that I want to do. The only he does is watch TV. He also eats the food I cook for him. If I am lucky, I can watch him drink beer too. Lots and lots of beer until he passes out on the couch. I can't believe that is his idea of a good weekend.

"What is wrong honey?" Robert asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Oh nothing. Just trying to figure out what you would like to eat for dinner." " said waving a pot in the air.

"Put the pot down. You don't want to hurt yourself." Robert said as he backed up.

"Don't worry about me. Worry about the final score of the game. Also, worry about the cold beer in the refrigerator. Maybe you need me to get you some more?" I said like a smart ass.

"Whoa... you really are acting strange." Robert said.

"A woman needs to get laid from time to time." I said shaking my fist in the air.

"What are you talking about?" He asked confuses.

"You watch sports all fucking day long. All the time I am craving cock. I want cock so bad, I was going to try anal sex with you." I said stomping my feet.

"Anal sex?" Robert said with a smile.

"Yes, anything to get you to fuck me." I said.

"I've never seen you like this." Robert said while putting his hand on my ass.

"Don't touch my ass buddy. I never said you could have it. I am sick and tired of coming last. The sports on the TV always comes first." I said throwing my hands in the air.

Maybe I was being too hard on him. I don't know. Sometimes I look at porn sites on the Internet and I see sites that have cock craving sluts. I never thought such a woman existed. After not having sex for a few weeks, I know exactly what they are talking about. I'm craving a cock like a drug addict craves drugs!

"Listen, you never fuck me like you used to." I said pushing him away from me.

"I thought you didn't want it anymore." Robert explained.

"Where did you get that from?" I asked.

"Because you never ask for sex." He said looking down at me.

"Did you ever think that I didn't want to have to keep asking for it?" I asked with my hands on my hips.

"Do you ever think that maybe I want to made feel pretty? Maybe, just maybe it makes me feel like you don't find me attractive if I have to ask for sex all the time." I said while waving my finger in his face.

"I don't know what to say." Robert said with a blank look his face.

"I know what to say. Fuck off! Cook your own fucking supper. Get your own beer when you want another one." I said running out of the kitchen.

I'm so confused and I don't know how to feel. I am mad as hell and I can't take it anymore. But, I don't want to be mean. I just don't know what the fuck is going on anymore. I ran into our bedroom and I laid on the bed. I was in a mixed state. Somewhere between anger and sadness.

"Fuck him! Fuck that asshole!" I said pounding my fist into the bed.

I wasn't about to cry. Not over him being an asshole. He leaves and goes to work five days a week. He thinks that I should stay home and take care of the house. Oh, and cook every meal for him. He don't want me to get a job. He says that my work is taking care of him.

Robert never takes me anywhere. He never buys me anything. He never even says anything nice to me. Oh, wait, he told me the the refrigerator was keeping the beer colder than normal. He thanked me for that. That is about it. I cook all day and he never tells me how good the food is. He just tells me that I didn't put enough salt in the food. I do his laundry. He tells me I forgot to wash his favorite pair of jeans. He never actually says that I did something good.

I guess this was more than just about sex. It was about how he treats me. He acts like I am some sort of slave to him. When it comes to something that I need, he doesn't give a damn. That is the problem. I need to have sex and to be kissed from time to time. Not only that, but it would be nice to be told that I am doing a good job at something.

I laid down in the bed and I looked at the ceiling. If Robert were here, he would tell me that I should be cleaning the ceiling. It looks like it is stained from my cigarette smoking. Oh, he tells me how much he hates it when I smoke. That is something else that he does all the time. It is never I should quite because it is bad for my health. He tells me I should quite because the smoke makes stuff turn yellow or that it makes his clothes stink.

"Abby, can we talk?" Robert said as he entered the bedroom.

"Talk about what?" I asked.

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