The young man that wouldn't take no for an answer was not my husband. He was a lovely man, boy really. He came into my life at a good time for me. We were both 16 when we met, seniors in high school. He was the oldest of two boys in a close loving family. His parents welcomed me as a daughter. When I wasn't at school or work I was with him, even sleeping over at his house after awhile. My parents were so clueless, they thought that because I went to church with his family regularly on Sundays that meant I wasn't having sex with him on Saturday nights when I stayed at his house. His parents were very open about sex, they had a very healthy and kinky sex life themselves. His parents respected our privacy in a very healthy way. His mother actually walked in on us once, she very calmly apologized, turned around walked out and closed the door. He was the first person I ever told my secret to. I don't know if he ever told his parents, but it wouldn't surprise me if he had. After we graduated he left town to go to college. I went with him. I was finally free.
We spent a total of 4 years together and parted ways amicably when I was 20 years old. I moved back to the city I had grown up in after the breakup. I lived with my ex's parents until I found my own place. I vowed that once I got out of my parents home I would never go back, I never have. Once I was single I worked 2 jobs and partied all night. It was a very carefree time for me, also very irresponsible. I'm convinced I had an entire squadron of guardian angels on my shoulder during that time. I had made plans with a friend, we were leaving town together, moving to a bigger city with more opportunities. We had a date set and a place to stay setup, a solid plan of action. Six weeks before I was scheduled to leave I met my husband. I never left town. Don't worry, my friend continued easily with the plan and has been very happy.
My second shift job was a small shift of mostly women older then I was. I had worked there my senior year of high school, they gladly took me back when I moved home. T was going through a divorce, B just liked to cheat on her husband and L, like me was single. We went out together alot. T and I had gone out one night to our favorite dance spot. It was a small neighborhood bar with a huge bouncer and huge guys behind the bar. All the women knew that they were safe in the bar and the parking lot there. And boy was it a fun place to play, the bar owner encouraged dancing on the bars and the table tops, though there was a strict rule about clothes staying on until you got to a car or off the premises. Now, I LOVE LOVE LOVE to dance and spent my fare share of time on the tabletops and the bar, as well as the dance floor. It was definitely a fun and relatively safe way to express myself, and of course gave me a great pick of the guys. This is where I met my husband.
I never saw him coming, both literally and figuratively. He walked up behind me and asked me to dance. I told him no. He didn't take no for an answer. I had been single a little less then a year, I was having fun and did not want another relathionship at the time. I was planning on leaving town in 6 weeks. I wasn't getting involved. We married 8 months later. I was just 21 years old.
I held him off for one week and then he got what he wanted, me. Two significant things happened in the early years. The first just three months into our relationship. I knew I would tell him my secret, I couldn't even consider being in a relationship with someone and them not knowing. That didn't mean it would be easy though. I had just met my husbands family a couple weeks prior. His whole, very large family. He took me to christmas at his grandmothers, his family was my gift. They are wonderful, close and loving and almost all males. Yep, I walked into a roomful of 3 generations of alpha males, scary. I love them all, they are great men in very honest, simple ways. Like balm for a broken spirit. My husband knew I was not close with my family, I had not seen them for the holidays. Just a few weeks later my mother showed up on my doorstep early one Sunday morning. We were still half asleep when we answered the door, she stood on my doorstep and screamed at me. She thought even after all these years she could tell me what to do, I stayed calm, told her to get off my property or I would call the police. I closed the door and turned around to see a look on my husbands face I never wanted to see.
Because of who his family was he didn't understand what could be so bad to make me treat my mother that way. I had to tell him my secret then wether I was ready or not. I told what I needed to tell. He asked all the questions he needed to ask and I answered them all honestly. A look of pure rage was on his face, his hands were curled into tight fists. I was devastated. He punched a couple things, not me, but I didn't know what to do, I sat there quietly crying. Once the initial rage passed and he realized he was scaring me, he made it clear it was not me he was upset with. No, its wasn't me, he wanted to kill my father. It actually took me quite awhile to talk him out of it. It was only when I was able to get him to understand that I would lose him if he did it that he stopped. He really was going to kill him.
I stopped seeing my family altogether after that. Shortly after we married the next significant thing happened. We fought passionately, we loved more passionately. There was a connection I had with him from the beginning that I had never had with anyone. Not even with highschool boy. No matter how bad the fight or what we went through, sex was always our connection. Along with that connection came something I had never experienced or expected. I started having flashbacks.
We would be in the middle of being intimate and BAM, a memory and I would freak out. I would become instantly hysterical and fight with everything I had to get away or get him off me. If I could get away from him I would run to the farthest corner from him and curl into a ball sobbing and babbling incoherently. He learned quickly not to let me get away from him. It was an intense time that I am not ready to talk about. I don't know if I ever will other then to say, he always helped me. I don't know how he knew what to do, but he always did. We were never able to pinpoint any definite triggers or any kind of pattern. But, I see now that we both suppressed some things. The flashbacks did fade and I haven't had one in over 20 years.
I never became close with my parents again, until 11 years ago. I was working at the local trauma center, my father had a stroke and was brought by ambulance to where I worked. By this time I had worked in healthcare quite awhile, my family deferred to me to make all the decisions. I made the decision to put him on life support when he lapsed into a coma. My youngest brother was in the Navy, we had to go through the red cross to get him home, I did my best to keep my father alive until my brother got there. My mother didn't want him left alone so she and my brothers were there during the day. I was there every night. 3 days after his stroke we were out of treatment options, I made the decision to take him off life support. I also made the decision to donate his organs. I was with him when he died. I made all the funeral arrangements. I became my mother's primary caretaker, she is disabled.
Since my father's death my mother has told me that he never believed he did anything wrong. She believes he did something wrong, but she doesn't think it adversely affected me.
My mother is a bitter old woman now, I took care of her until a year and a half ago when I got caught in the middle of a fight between her and my youngest brother. She put me in a position of having to pick between the two of them, I did not pick her. That is the end of the story. Now I feel like I can start a new story.