Another stupid fight about something she had done, and she had already lost count of how many had there been. He would complain about her friends, about them not spending enough time together, about her flirting with other men. Her, always her, she was the one not working for the relationship, she was the irresponsible one. They had been dating since high-school, she didn't know better, neither did he. And they still loved each other, although, sometimes, she had to remind it to herself.
She yearned for adventure, for other arms, for other lips. She always said she would look for others, that she was still young and beautiful, that she deserved to have one-night stands, to be free. Never to his face, never. He gave her security, it was an anchor. She wouldn't even think of leaving him. In her mind, what she wanted to was to keep a facade relationship with him, while she went out with other people. She would never tell him, of course, he couldn't know, and it had not yet happened, but she wanted it to.
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