I flick off the television in front of me, and sigh. I hadn't been paying attention to the documentary anyway. All I can think about is my husband. In Tulsa. Hating me.

It hurts just reminding myself of exactly why he's hating me right now, and why I've stayed off work all day, despite it being a Monday and one of the busiest days of the week.

We had gotten into a huge fight on Friday night, when he had arrived back from Tulsa for the week-end. A week-end that we were meant to enjoy together, to cherish the short time we had with each other before he had to go back. It hadn't worked out that way at all this time.

It had all started when I told him it was the last day I was ovulating for the month and that if we were going to try, it had to be right then that evening. Well, that moment. I guess I can be pretty stubborn about things when I make up my mind about them. I used to think my husband found that personal trait endearing. Now I just think that was naive.

Anyway, he told me that he was too tired from all the hard work that week, and all the travelling, and that all he wanted to do was rest after having had dinner. I persisted. I said that it didn't matter if he was tired or not, we were having sex.

Then the bickering began. He said that it didn't matter if we skipped trying until a few more weeks. That there wasn't any rush anyway. Well of course I got mad at that. "But we've been trying every month for ages. We can't just skip one month now!"

"Why not? Look, as much as I'd love to make love to you and try for a baby, it really is the last thing I want to do right now honey. I'm sorry." Then he'd collapsed on the sofa and turned the television on. That had infuriated me; it was like trying for a baby was the last thing he wanted to do full stop.

"Honey, I know you've had a long week at work and that you're tired, but how long does having sex actually take? I mean c'mon, just five minutes will do me fine right now." Okay, cheap shot I know, but I had started to get quite worked up at this point.

"I said no honey. I love you, but you really don't rule this house. Okay, maybe you do, but you can't get your way all the time. Can't we just relax right now? I just want to put my feet up, like we always used to do straight after dinner."

'Always used to do.' Why had that phrase agitated me so much? Because I missed what we 'always used to do.' I missed the whole routine of getting home from work every day, putting dinner on, and waiting for my husband to come through the door and say those three words: "honey, I'm home."

It was one of those constant and predictable things that I loved so much. I guess I'm just the sort of person who doesn't like change. I like to be in control of things. I like to know what will happen.

Those three words on entering the apartment haven't reached my ears for almost three whole months. And I miss them. Picking my husband up at the airport twice a week just isn't the same. Sure, it's lovely to see him and know we have at least one evening together before he has to leave again before the week-end, but that's just it. I know we only have a short time together.

Before he'd taken (and by that I mean accidentally taken) the job in Tulsa, our routine was great. I'd get home as usual before him, start cooking dinner, hear my husband return from work with the usual sing-song "honey, I'm home," we'd have dinner together as a married couple should do, we'd clear away, put our feet down and cuddle in front of the television, and then we'd usually have sex. Our 'late dessert' as we used to call it. And dessert was even more important when I was ovulating.

We both loved the thought of trying for a baby. I had been so thrilled when I'd learnt that he was as ready as I was to start a family. Although I admit I was a little freaked out about it myself at first. We were one of those married couples that had sex regularly anyway, and by that I mean practically every day, but trying for a baby made it so much better. Even more meaningful than it was for us anyway.

It was another constant thing in my life that changed after he'd taken the new position in Tulsa. The only time we had with each other, to sleep together, was one evening a week, and on the week-end. Not only did it make it more difficult to try for a baby, but I missed 'having' my husband. I'm not afraid to admit that my needs haven't been satisfied during those months when my husand's hardly been at home during the weeks. And that's what I 'calmly' explained to him that Friday night.

"Yes, that's we used to do honey, but it's different now isn't it? I only see you once before the week-end now. The short time we have together is precious. And yes I know, we have all week-end. But we can spend that time doing all the 'resting' we like. Right now, I want to try for a baby. I want to have sex with my husband who I haven't seen for a few days. Basically, I want to get some. Is that okay with you?" I seem to remember I was raising my voice ever so slightly at this point. Okay, I was ranting. But I felt I needed to be blunt and honest with my husband.

"You want to 'get some?' Is that all I'm here for then? To satisfy my wife's sexual needs when I'm at home?"

"No. You're here to be with your wife. To spend some time with her. You should be spending time with me every single day of the week. But that's not possible anymore now is it?" Now I was really raising my voice.

"Oh I see what this is about. Even after a few months you still resent me for taking up the job. You said you were fine about it at the time, but now, you're obviously not."

"That's right. I'm not okay with it. And I do resent you for having taken up the job in the first place. I'll be honest with you. I think it was stupid of you to have made such a ridiculous mistake in accepting the job a few states away from home! I mean, seriously! I found all the words I'd been wanting to say aloud to him pouring from my mouth in the hot heat of the moment.

"Well, maybe if you hadn't taken up that head chef position right here in the city and decided to come with me like originally planned, then we wouldn't be having this argument." He had said these words slowly, emphasising my 'selfishness' and part in this whole fiasco.

I shook my head violently. "So just because you had to up and leave because of a stupid mistake, I had to do the same? I had to refuse my dream job to tag along to Tulsa with you?"

"Husbands and wives are meant to stick together, whatever happens. You have no one to blame but yourself for only seeing me three days a week."

"Excuse me?! It's my fault that I'm without you all that time? Because you stupidly fell asleep in a meeting?"

"Basically, yes. You had a choice. I didn't. If you really miss me as much as you say you do, if you really truly care about me that much, then you'd have come with me."

"Yeah, well right now I'm thinking it was a mistake you even came back at all this week-end." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them. My husband just stared at me. Then he got up off the sofa, and walked into our bedroom.

That confused me. Had he cracked? Was he actually changing his mind at this tense point and wanting to have sex? I had no idea. That was until he came out just a few seconds later with his still-packed suitcase.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm obviously not wanted here. You're right, it was a mistake coming back this week-end at all. I may as well go back to Tulsa right now."

I didn't say anything. I was too shocked. I mean, yes, the argument we'd just had was pretty rough, pretty tense, and we'd both said harsh words to each other, but he was actually leaving?

"And as you're making no attempt to stop me, I'm thinking it really is best, don't you?"

I chose not to answer that question. Instead what I found out coming out of my mouth, slowly and softly, were the words "It really hasn't been easy on me you know Chandler. All this change. I've found it tough. I've even cried over it."

What he said next hurt me like a sharp needle going through my chest. "Well you can cry some more, Mon. Have you even considered how hard it is on me as well? Being in a new state four days of the week, in a hotel room all alone, without my friends, or my wife. Sure, I made a mistake, but I was so grateful for your support at first. It's what got me through it. It's just a shame that your support has gone. Maybe it was never there, who knows? See you Mon." And with that he walked out of our apartment, without a kiss, or a hug, or even a look, goodbye.

And I haven't seen him since then. I won't see him until Wednedsay, if he comes back that is. I won't blame him if he doesn't.

So anyway, that's the reason why I've stayed off work today. I couldn't face going in to the restaurant. The job I took instead of finding one in Tulsa, where my husband is right now. Hating me.

I look at my watch. Just gone five. Before all the change, this is the time I'd start preparing dinner for the two us us, ready for six when I'd hear "honey, I'm home" and Chandler was home from work.

I get up off the sofa. I'll start preparing dinner right now. I'm quite hungry, and it'll keep my mind off Chandler anyway.

So that's what I do. I chop, and peel, and slice. And by half five dinner's in the oven, ready for what other time but six. Funny how it's worked out that way today. Now I usually eat at seven, when Joey or Rachel often come to join me.

But I need something from the old days right now. Something that we 'used to do.' Will it take my guilt away? My guilt at driving my husband back and even further away from me? Probably not, but it's worth a try.

I do a little clearing up and tidying, and actually watch a little television this time. Then at five to six the oven timer goes, and I get up to take dinner out, and put it on the table, where I'll eat alone. Again.

I sigh and pull my chair out to sit. Then I hear a knock on the door. A slow but sharp knock. That's strange. The door should be open anyway. It usually is for Rachel, or Joey, or Ross to come in whenever they feel like it. Which is a lot.

Pulling my chair out, I take my apron off, which I now realise I forgot to remove after taking dinner out of the oven. I walk over to the door, and open it.

I stand there, taking in who's in front of me. Standing there, and just staring at me. My husband. Chandler.

Before any intolerable words can come out of my mouth, he takes a few steps towards me. He pulls me into him, into a warm, loving embrace. All I can do is melt into his arms, my head resting on his shoulder, feeling his arms encircling my back, drawing me closer yet to his body.

We're still in silence. Until with a hand he pulls strands of my raven hair behind my ear, leans in further, and whispers three words softly and slowly into my ear. Just three words: "honey, I'm home."

I feel my eyes welling up with tears. Tears of regret, relief and happiness. Those three words mean so much to me. To us. Just those three words. Those three words mean that everything's alright again.

I pull slowly out from his embrace, and look up into my husband's face. The look in his eyes, the look of love, tells me that everything's forgotten, everything's forgiven. Because that's who Chandler is. That's why I fell in love with him all those years ago, and that's why I want to do nothing more now than to show him just how much I really and truly do care about him. I lean in and raise my lips to his, and his hands encircle my waist. Who knows, maybe we'll have 'early dessert' this evening.