Obviously, I wanted her to get in better shape, but only for her health and self-confidence. My love for her was unconditional; it wasn’t predicated...on her looks. She was a contradiction, upset and lacking in confidence in her appearance, but unwilling to do anything about it.What was worse was that our sex life, which had already been deteriorating, was getting even worse. Nothing I tried worked. I bought her sexy lingerie that she refused to wear; I got scented massage oils to give her. She went up to bed and I joined her a few minutes later. I cuddled up to her to give her comfort. I wasn't expecting any shagging or anything; I'm not a complete bastard. As I snuggled up behind her she sat up, and in a voice I'd never heard her use before shouted,"Get out of my bed, you bastard, it's your fault that they're dead!"I was astonished, both by what she said and by the hate and vehemence in the voice she had used to say it. I knew it would be a waste of time to try talking to her,. More

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