When I first married Katie, I was as happy as a man can be. Katie was, to me, a vision of the perfect woman. She was sweet, kind, very smart, and an absolute vision of beauty. She was a little shorter than average at 5'3", and was small at barely 90 pounds, but her smile could light my soul and her laugh filled my heart with joy.
In the "asset" category, she was petit with small breasts and ass, but very toned and shapely legs and the features of a goddess.
But what really got to me was her vibrant personality. She was smarter than me, and would regularly dominate any conversation about current events or about politics. She was both passionate and knowledgeable. I usually ignore those subjects, but I loved watching her dominate our friends whenever those topics came up, and they always seemed to come up.
She also had a number of idiosyncrasies that I found especially endearing. The way she made the bed every morning while I was in the shower; the way she always kissed me before leaving the room, or the house; and her diary.
From our first night together in her bed, after our second date, she always kept a diary. It was a cute little volume, clearly something she found in a specialty store for such things. Every night, from our first night together until well into our five-year marriage, she would take out her little diary and jot her daily notes just before turning the light out.
If I ever asked her about it, she would just give me her radiant smile and tell me that she wanted to keep track of details and wouldn't say anything more. I never pried. It wasn't something that bothered me, it was just another thing that made her special and that I loved about her.
Then about a year ago, things began to change. The first thing I noticed was that her diary disappeared. One evening she didn't take it out, and I was stunned. I didn't say anything. Maybe she didn't have any details to record for that day? But it didn't reappear. The change made a lump begin to form in my gut. I didn't know why, but I knew that there was a problem.
I also realized that that she wasn't giving me kisses as she left the room. It wasn't a complete cessation, but it was unquestionably less consistent.