My solution

The walls had come up on what seemed to Larry a proscribed, meditated basis.

“I’m changing the schedule at my salon, darling,” Jennifer said only two months after they moved into the Pasadena house. “I won’t be home from work until ten, so you’ll need to prepare dinner for yourself.”

A month later, Jennifer announced at the Saturday morning breakfast table, as Larry savored the thought of a hiking day in the Santa Anas, “I’ve acquired a salon in Sebastopol, and need to spend my Saturdays up there. Unfortunately, I need to fly out of LAX early this afternoon, so Santa Ana will have to wait …”

Larry was constipated for a week after this.

“I’m having trouble falling asleep, with all your snoring, love of my life,” Jennifer announced before bed on one Sunday evening, a month later, when she’d returned from the Bay Area a day later than expected, after all she’d had this business soiree in the city – “would you be a dear and sleep in the second bedroom?”

Larry swallowed it all and put himself in the fetal position on their twin bed in the guest room – pining hungrily for their 18-inch king-sized mattress, sure that he never snored. And he vomited quietly into the guest bathroom two hours later. But beauty has its privileges, he reminded himself, and Jennifer did love making love, until one day, a month later –

Larry found Jennifer in bed being violated by two men. At the same time, pumping in opposite directions. Oh – he remembered – these were the slinky movers at that apartment. When Larry told Jennifer that Marlon had been killed … she’d wept on his shoulders. And they’d stood there, torn white t-shirts and low-cut jeans.

He’d sreamed a high-pitched scream and thrown Jennifer’s Pez container at these men. Threatened to pulverize them. Yelled get out of my house, you common trash.

“You’re so emotionally mature, Larry. I you’d been an adult with those men, I could’ve discussed this with you like a calm adult. But no, you threw a Pez container at them. What a child you are,” Jennifer said, her voice calm and even like a lake with no wind.

“As it happens, I have to ask you for an open relationship. I’m no longer able to relate to you and your emotional insecurities. Don’t say anything – I’m too angry with you right now to continue this conversation.”

She walked away while Larry cursed himself. No-fault divorce in California, and no prenuptial agreement. But suddenly, Larry knew the solution to his problem.