Lovemaking had reached the mundane and repetitive; always in bed, always the same. Was I to blame? Possibly, but I was past caring, past trying, past...wanting.It had all came to a head some fifteen years ago when I’d come close to an affair. The temptation was too great and I’d succumbed somewhat to the charms of a work colleague, though the affair, as such, never got past a kiss and a quick fingering in a layby. I couldn’t hide the fact that I’d done something and, though I’d never admitted. "Do you have a degree in psychology or psychiatry?" he asked me.I rolled my eyes. It was always the same. If you disagreed with someone, unless you had a ton of letter abbreviations after your name, then you automatically didn't know what you were talking about. It was the way the system kept people in check and made sure they could ram an agenda through. Governments had gotten very adept at this over the years."No. No degree. Just a bit of experience at observing my fellow man. Simple. More

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