CREIGHTON

Moving from London to the States was supposed to be a cultural adjustment for me, but the real culture shock hit me the second I stepped off the plane at JFK.

I’d spent the last year in a blissfully domestic bubble with Heather in our flat in Oxford. We were the typical college sweethearts—business majors who spent more time studying in the Bodleian than partying.

I loved Heather; she was smart, reliable, and possessed a quiet, understated beauty. But she was also, to put it bluntly, built like a machine. She had zero sex drive, zero libido and zero stamina.

I’d seen my mother-in-law, Onika Taylor, on FaceTime plenty...