My best gal pal, Hallee, attentively listened to my tale of woe, nodded sagely and earnestly explained, “You’re in the marital doldrums, Becca.”

We’d met for dinner at a bistro. My husband, Mitch, was working late. Feeling blue, I hadn’t wanted to eat alone.

“What are the marital doldrums?” I asked.

Hallee smiled knowingly and replied, “I’ve been married a year longer than you, right? OK. The doldrums are a natural stage of marriage. It’s everything you’ve just been telling me about — the boredom, restlessness, the borderline panic that you’re never going to go to bed with another man for the rest of your life.”

I started to object. Being married to Mitch wasn’t causing me to panic. But Hallee cut me off.