I first experienced a loss of sexual desire several years ago, just after I turned 40. For a long time, I thought it was me. I thought maybe it was my age. After reading every book and article I could find on sex, relationships, and marriage, I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was my marriage, maybe it was my husband. I never wanted to be "that woman". The one that screwed around on her husband. But, I had an affair about six or seven years ago. It didn't last long. But, that's when I knew my marriage was over. It wasn't a lack of sexual desire, it was a lack of desire for my husband. I didn't want him or the marriage. There was nothing wrong with my sex drive. I told my husband that I'd had an affair. He changed for about a month or so. He was very loving and attentive. But it didn't last. He loves differently than I need to be loved and it's just not in him to love me that way. A few months after I ended the affair, I got involved with someone else. I know. I shouldn't have. I've experienced things with this other man that I never thought possible. Felt things I thought were only possible in movies. He's a romantic. Not flowers or candy or jewellery, but he talks and listens. He hears me. He tries to understand me and give me what I need. Deep, intimate conversations. Looking into one another's eyes. Soft caresses. Words of adoration. These things he gives me almost daily. I never knew I needed romance because I'd never had it. This is how I need to be loved. After having felt this way, I can't stay in my marriage. It's not fair to either of us. I'm not sure what happened. Did we grow apart? Did one or both of us change? Do people's needs change as they get older? What is the author likely to do about her marriage going forward? A. continue to cheat on her husband, but stay married B. not enough information C. end her affair and work on her marraige D. get a divorce
D

Thanks for the A2A Josh: Tough one to reduce to just a single incident but I'll try. I grew up in North Central Indiana, about 50 miles south of South Bend. It was common to have frequent snow accumulation in the winter and blustery, freezing temps. It seems like this was particularly true during my childhood in the 70's and 80's. My family was blue collar through and through. We lived in the heartland in a town of just a few hundred with a sawmill and an on again off again gas station as our only two businesses. My dad worked in a factory for roughly 45 years. He apparently started that job right out of high school. My mom was an incredibly hard worker and Still is to this day. She did factory work, restaurant management and everything in between. It was this Protestant work ethic that led to one of the frequent tasks that my brother and I had to do which was not fun but ultimately was a very good deed. As I said, winters were often snowy and harsh. So my mom would make my brother and me shovel driveways and sidewalks for a couple of elderly residents. We did this of course, after we did our own driveway. Some people had motorized snowblowers but we did not. Standard snow shovels were our tools. I remember us whining about the chore, wishing we could just play in the snow or get out of it altogether. I don't remember being overly conscious of the relief this provided for our elderly neighbors. I just remember that Mom would be disappointed if we didn't do a good job. Later in life I would have great appreciation for the things required of me by my parents. Factory work and summer farm jobs helped us learn the value of hard work and would set us on a road to appreciation of future job opportunities that were less taxing. I still remember hating shoveling snow. But I'm forever grateful that I did it. How long did the author live in Indiana? A. Just a few months B. For his childhood C. not enough information D. His entire life until present day
B

(Question)
I was a waitress at the New England regional chain Newport Creamery for seven years in Jr. High, High School, and College. In college, I needed money for school supplies, so in addition to slinging ice cream cones and "Awful Awfuls" at the Creamery, I picked up a few more jobs: working the dinner shift at a family restaurant, heaving trays of cocktails at a bar until 3AM, and cleaning houses. Needless to say, I was a wreck, and a big time abuser of coffee and cigarettes. One day just before my shift at the Creamery began, I slung back a huge coffee and hauled on a Newport cigarette in the kitchen (this was when you could do things like smoke in a restaurant kitchen.) I then went out to the dining floor and approached my first table, who had been given menus and was waiting for me to take their order. "Hi, How are you today?", I cheerfully asked the mother and her three daughters, all looking under 12. "What may I get you?.." Then, fade to black as a huge swooshing sound took over my head. Next thing I know, I'm on the floor, covered in blood, the girls are screaming blue murder, and my manager is shaking like a leaf as he coddles me. Apparently, I passed out right onto the table of the nice family I was waiting on, then fell back and whacked my head on the corner of a wall. I remember noticing that my kelly green polyester dress was an awful shade of bloodied brown. My main concern was that I had a hot date that night, and now I had to go to the emergency room! The ER doctor was able to sew my head up, and sent me home with a diagnosis of "syncope, unknown origin". After a few hours, I still felt spacey, but insisted on going on the date. I remember we went to a nice Italian place on Federal Hill! Here's the Garden City location, where I worked. What did the waitress have to eat on her date? A. not enough information B. Salad. C. Alfredo. D. Spaghetti.
(Answer)
A