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burying her face in a pillow and wailing herself hoarse.
         That same night, however, she crept down the stairs and quietly seduced the wall. She did it not because she was horny, but because her self-esteem needed it. She needed to know that he still found her attractive and, judging by his reaction, he definitely did.
         She realized that, once again, she’d flipped out over nothing and apologized to him, whispering, “I’m sorry about earlier, baby. I know you love only me. Must have been my crazy female hormones getting the best of me again. Forgive me?”
         And with a little playful coaxing, he forgave her several times over.
     
    * * * * *
     
         Things were okay for a while. Better than okay, really. Things were back to the way they were when they’d first discovered each other and fell in love.
         The woman was back to sharing every possible moment with the handsome red wall; together they looked at the photos she’d taken that long ago day of what she considered to be their first “real” date.
         She went back to calling home from work whenever she had a spare minute or two, just to remind him of how he meant the world to her.
         And their sex life had exploded into galaxies colliding and stars going supernova. It was fireworks every night and still they were just barely satiated. It was as if they’d become adolescents again, something they’d never had the joy of being together.
         The woman was certain that a marriage proposal would be forthcoming in mere days; weeks at most.
         Briefly, she toyed with the idea of telling Wally that she’d become pregnant. It wasn’t such an impossible notion, really. They never practiced birth control.
         But, in the end, she decided against stooping to the level of some other women, so desperate as to trap a man into marriage. That was just low-down dirty playing and besides, she had no intention of breaking the vow of honesty that she’d made to him so far back in the beginning.
         A lie was no way to begin a happy, healthy marriage.
     
    * * * * *
     
         Several months passed and he still hadn’t popped the question.
         Though she denied it, even to herself, she was becoming crabbier with every passing, un-proposed-to day.
        “ Would it be so much to ask for a little help around the house once in a while?” she bitched at him. “I mean, for Christ’s sake, you’re home all fucking day! Can’t you just once get off your lazy ass and do something of use around here?”
         She stood before the wall, hands on hips, awaiting a response. The wall just stared back at her, expressionless.
        “ Oh, don’t give me that innocent look!” she yelled. She started to leave the room and then turned back and snarled, “You know, you can be a real son-of-a-bitch sometimes!”
         Even the name-calling—something she’d never done before—did not get a rise out of him, which infuriated her even more.
        “ Okay,” she said. “Have it your way. But don’t ever expect me to dust your fucking baseboard again, do you hear me, asshole? Am I getting through that Mr. Macho tough exterior? I’d love to see you try to dust it. Just once, I’d love to see you try!”
         She absolutely could not believe that he was giving her the silent treatment at a time like this, when she was so clearly upset. She threw her hands in the air. “Okay, fuck you too!”
         Once again, she started to walk away and once again she stopped, this time to grab her favorite blue vase, which had once held such gorgeous stolen roses, and hurl it at the wall as hard as she could. It shattered on impact and left a deep ugly wound in the center of the wall. So deep, the old white paint was clearly visible through the red, but in that second she didn’t care. She was glad and hoped she’d hurt him badly. Even if he needed to be patched up, he still wouldn’t be in