Why can’t my wife’s world just have me in it? She has friends for dinner, gallery openings, birthdays, 'quick drinks' that turn into midnight. She kisses me before she leaves and says she won’t be long. I say okay. I always say okay. I don’t tell her I hate them. I don’t tell her I sit there wondering what they know about her laugh that I don’t. I don’t need more people. I have my wife. I know how that sounds. Don’t bother explaining healthy independence to me. I know. I’m not proud of it. I just can’t let her know, because if she looks at me like I’m disgusting, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself.