Photo-Illustration: Marylu Herrera

A woman spends her birthday week fantasizing about other women: 39, married, New York.

DAY ONE

3:17 a.m. I’m lying in my bedroom, awake. The sleep gummies worked but then wore off. I’m upset because I know I won’t fall asleep again, and tomorrow is a big travel day with the kids, and it’s going to be so hard to push through.

6 a.m. I was right; I never fell back asleep. It seems like a reasonable enough time to wake up and go into my studio. During COVID, my husband, Dax, and I turned my daughter’s nursery into a painting studio for me. It’s the best decision I ever made. Before that, I had just been working out of a random corner in our living room, and my painting supplies were everywhere. I tiptoe into the studio and look at my unfinished canvases, scattered sketches, and I’m comforted — as I always am — by my working life as an artist.

8:20 a.m. I wake my girls up for camp. My husband is making coffee. This gives us exactly ten minutes to get them dressed and fed and out the door — my husband will walk them because it’s on the way to the subway he takes to the office. He works in finance.

10:30 a.m. Empty house. Try to nap. I end up masturbating, which I do every day. I have a few different toys, but today I just use my hand and my imagination. I think about a teacher I had in art school, who was German and voluptuous and queer, and imagine her seducing me in her office. I’m straight, but I almost always masturbate to women.

2 p.m. Pack up the kids and I for our weekend in the Berkshires. It’s my 40th birthday this weekend and my husband planned a trip with us, my siblings, their kids, and my parents. We’re a tight bunch, and I’m looking forward to it.

4 p.m. Stop by this cannabis store on Court Street to get a different kind of sleep gummy that another mom swears by. I’ve battled sleep since college. Back then, it was because I was mildly anorexic and too hungry to sleep, and after that, I have no idea. I’m in a happy marriage, I have a good life, I don’t have anxiety during the day. It’s an ongoing struggle. I fucking hate it.

7 p.m. We’re eating dinner and waiting for Dax to come home from work. He comes in looking eager and excited to get in the car and go to the Berkshires. My girls are in their pajamas and look so cute! We all eat some food and pile into the car.

10:30 p.m. We pull into this rental that a friend recommended. It’s a huge house on a lake, but it’s too dark to tell if the setting is pretty or not. My family arrives tomorrow, so tonight, it’s just us. We quickly get the girls into bed, and I fall asleep in my youngest one’s bed while lying down with her.

DAY TWO 

6 a.m. I slept!

10 a.m. While the girls watch TV, Dax and I walk around the property. It’s really pretty.

12 p.m. While I’m getting brunch ready, Dax comes up and gives me a deep kiss. After 14 years together, I can read his mind … he’s hoping for sex this weekend. We haven’t had sex in about three months. It’s weird. I love masturbating — it’s part of my self-care. But I never want to fuck my husband. He’s done nothing wrong. He’s a great guy. I’m attracted to him. I love him. After COVID, when we were all in our apartment 24/7, something shifted in me, and I didn’t want to be touched. I was “touched out,” like most moms with young kids. But it never went back to normal. My iciness never thawed. He’s been completely patient with me. He never pushes or complains, but it can’t be easy for him. We try to communicate about it, but all I can say is, “I am not interested in sex right now.” And all he can say is, “I love you, and I’ll wait.”