It’s Saturday night.  I usually go out on a Saturday to a modern jive social event, where I meet friends and dance.  Husband refuses to come; he refuses to go out on a Saturday night, which is why I’ve had to go alone.  To a certain extent, I understand this – he works at the weekend (his choice, however).  Anyway, he’s not entirely happy about me going out and he never asks about my evening or my friends.  It’s as if I have an existence that I have to pretend doesn’t exist.

Tonight I’ve stayed in.  I’m out tomorrow night at a monthly get together and so I didn’t want to cause an argument by going out too often.

He came in and switched on the television.  I fantasised about what it would be like if he came in and said: “Get ready.  Let’s go and do something tonight.”  But I know it won’t happen so why am I always so hopeful and optimistic?

And why do I feel guilty when I go out and leave him behind on his own sitting on the sofa watching TV because honestly I don’t think it really makes any difference whether I’m here or not.