The freedom I feel in my marriage isn’t freedom from commitment. It’s freedom within it. The freedom to make mistakes and be met with softness. The freedom to grow in directions I didn’t anticipate and not be punished for it. The freedom to say “I don’t know who I’m becoming yet” and have her respond with “neither do I, let’s figure it out together.”

The warmth travels through my body, brief and electric, because the cost of bringing this awareness means they’re about to realise everything they’ve been avoiding. There’s no light without darkness. No truth without facing our lies. Sometimes they respond with ease, other times sadness. It’s a mixed bag, but one I’m always prepared for.

Remember when people actually commented? When you’d post something and humans would respond with thoughts, not just silent consumption? Now it’s crickets. Echoes of people who used to be there. Lurking has become the primary mode of existence.

We've built an entire relationship mythology around the idea that sexual frequency equals connection. That men naturally want more sex than women. That women must be ready to perform sexually to "keep their man happy." These aren't biological truths, they're cultural constructs that serve no one, least of all the couples trapped within them.