Never Meet Withered Snow Lotus of Yore
My wife has a severe sex addiction. But in the seven years we've been married, she never lets me touch her.
To suppress her urges, she spends all day submerged in ice-cold water, and her arms are covered in needle marks.
Several times, I try to initiate intimacy out of concern for her, but her reaction is terrifying. She even threatens to kill herself.
"I told you, I only want a Platonic relationship in this lifetime. Can you stop being so selfish? If you insist on making me do that, I'd rather die!" she exclaims.
She maintains this unusual obsession for seven years. Even after ending up in the hospital multiple times from suppressing her desires, she refuses to cross that line.
Then, on our wedding anniversary, a man comes in for a pre-check of his phalloplasty enlargement for the ninth time.
After the anesthesia takes effect, he begins rambling incoherently. "Honey, I love you so much."
Looking at the surgical scars, I shake my head, thinking this guy is really willing to go to extreme lengths for his wife.
Then, I hear his final murmur. "Tasha, aren't I so much better compared to your useless husband?"
My hand jerks, and I nearly drop the scalpel.
It is because my wife's name is Tasha Snyder.
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