Painful Truth #133: You're not initiating sex!

I wore my sour face throughout the whole day. She, of course, noticed it.
So after doing the dishes, waiting for me to finish putting the kids to sleep, at the amazingly early time of 23:00, we sat down in our bedroom, on the bed, messy room, both of us exausted.
What's wrong, Danny?
Silence.
Really Danny, I'm listening, now is the only time we can talk - she says with her pretty eyelids heavier than my feelings. I'm even more insulted.
You're not initiating any sex, I tell that beautiful sexy albeit half-a-sleep woman. She frowns, she looks into my eyes with complete exaustness mixed with a pint of guilt. We go into the argument of how she's not initiating, practically, anything and how I'm so neglected and how it's not worth it, blah blah blah.
We go to sleep, same bed, two separate bodies, not touching.
This happens twice a week now, no progress, no conclusions. I'm desperate. So now is the time to go to the truth place, invoke my inner me which is, supposedly, a mix between the scientist and the spirtualist. It's not her, my inner sci-guy says, according to your own rational theories (as painful as it is, adds my inner spiritman with a comforting hug). It's you. Let go. The insult is overwhelming, doubly painful - could it be that I'm neglected and also I've been wronging my wife for so long?
Then, if it's me, why is it like that? what am I doing wrong? I ask my two inner advisors, half taunting half serious.
My sci-guy smiles and nods without a word. He knows I know. And I know.

Two weeks later, me and her hugging passionatly under the warm covers on a rainy day. We're both semi-drunk from the love-making. It's different now, she says and I smile. I know exactly what she means. She is a mother and a wife and a ton of other things and even though she's now working less than I am, she does not deserve to be tied up to everything that needs to be done around the house.
But I'm working hard, I say to myself.
So hard that you can't be an equal part in the chores, with the kids?
My career is very demanding. It is, but is there any excuse to not be focused on your home?
No.
You wanted this family and it's here, for a reason. Now, balance.
As usual, it's like magic. What seemed to be a constraint on my career has now turned into pure balance. I'm doing less meaningless work (and there was more of that than I thought)  and instead I'm at home, doing the dishes so she can rest, taking care of the kids, cleaning, so she can read. And there is enough sex. Oh yea, oh yummi, that quality, deep, amazing sex they talk about in books. And everytime I put my apron on and clean, I can see her sneaking a look at my (censored), she says it's sexy for her and makes her feel free and safe.
There's an old funny line in an old funny sketch in the country I come from: "Be a man, humiliate yourself."
Being a man is understanding what she needs and understanding what I need (which usually has some significant overlaps). One point for truth, zero for being Mr. right.