skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Ok Ok enough of the heavy stuff for awhile. I have decided to post something else entirely. I was scanning through others blogs and came across someone who had three strange encounters. I had to laugh because I could totally relate to "strange encounters" as a daily experience.
I swear I have a sign on me that says... "Please!!! Tell me your most personal intimate details... I care!"
I always have people, strangers, talking to me and telling me things I don't want to know. OR... Showing me things NO ONE wants to see.
Example:
I am shopping at Wal Mart ( I hate Wal Mart, It sucks the life out of you) Anyhow, I am shopping at Wal Mart looking at the PJ's When a little old woman walks up to me and asks me," Do you work here? Could you help me please! I need a new bra and can't find what I want."
Me: "I don't work here but I could help you find someone who does." (I always get asked if I work at places. I must look like I know what I am doing or maybe I look like I am trying to duck out of working... Could be either.)
Before I can leave and look for help she says, "That's okay, YOU can still help me, I don't mind."
Stunned I pause for a moment and look at her, wondering about the polite way to handle this situation.She didn't give me much time to think.
Old Woman: "I am looking for a bra like I have on." At which point she lifts up her sweatshirt to show me said Bra.
My thought... she was right, she desperately needed a new bra. With a crinkle in my brow I contemplate all exit strategies. None existed unless I wanted to crawl under the rack of PJ's. Somehow she had backed me into a corner, literally.
Not taking a chance I might drop to my hands and knees and crawl out of there she says, "Do you think they still have this brand? I don't even know what kind it is."
Me: clearing my throat and wishing she would drop her Sweatshirt back into place says, "I have no idea what brand it is, maybe you can go to the dressing room and see if it has a tag and get the information off of it." (This seemed to be a reasonable thought... and a chance for me to get the heck out of there.)
Old Lady : "Oh that's a good idea, Can you look for the tag and see what it is?" She turns her back to me so I can find the tag. (At least I no longer had to look at her... front)
At this point I can clearly see there isn't a tag. It was clear the tag had disintegrated from long wear and washings. Not only was the tag gone but so was most of the fabric of said bra.
"Mame, the tag is no longer there."
She laughs and says, "I may be 79 years old but you don't have to call me mame, My name is Violet." (Her top still lifted above your breast.)
Me: "Pleased to meet you." (I may have said this as a question... I'm not sure)
I told her my name but she never did call me anything but Sweetie and Dear.
In an desperate effort to get her to put her top back down I decide to help her look for SOMETHING. I was clearly not getting out of there and the damage to my psyche had already been done. The time with the therapist was already a guarantee. I might as well shorten that time by having the whole experience end as soon as possible.
I started looking for something she may be interested in and discovered she had no idea what her size was. So after a fairly long time of trying on bras of different style and size she finally found one she liked. And I must say it looked good on her. It lifted and separated... She was insistent on showing me every one of them. Some of which were absolutely hilarious, we both had a good laugh.
At some point the worker did come back to the area and the fitting rooms. I didn't even bother to let her take over, Violet and I had a special relationship by this time.
I suggested she write down the Style and Size on a piece of paper and keep it in her wallet. That way the next time she needed a new one she would have the information with her. Maybe too, she should get more than one. ..
Violet: "That is a fantastic idea! They should give you a raise you are so good!"
Me: "You have no idea..."
There were different colors she liked. So I helped her find the colors and sizes that fit her.
After about an hour and a half our time together was coming to an end. I felt somewhat saddened by this fact. Violet said goodbye with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Going on her merry way with a handful of colorful ,sexy, lacy bras.
From time to time I see Violet at the store and around town. She never remembers who I am but for me... I will never forget her. How could I?
As posted before, I have a mother obsessed in many different ways. One obsession she had was of me being sexual. In reality she had nothing to worry about. But because she did worry it put a certain pressure on me to stay FAR FAR away from any such thoughts and actions. Where that left me was wide open for any anyone to be able to advantage of my lack of knowledge and my innocence.
According to my religion I could only marry someone who was also in the same religion. I fell in love with a man who was shy, awkward around others, intelligent, kind and soft spoken, musically talented and enjoyed a lot of the same things I did. He was also a part of this religion.
As a part of this religion I was not permitted to date unless I was planning on marrying the person...So I had no experience in that department. Nor were we allowed to ever be alone together before being married. The presence of another older person was required at all times as a chaperon. Little to no physical contact was recommended. Holding hands was considered being forward and could possibly lead to other things that were not allowed. (not to even be thought about) Our first date was with six other people. We didn't even get to sit beside each other.
This was all fine for me for I was leery of doing something wrong in the eyes of my God.
We made our simple plans to be married. I had very little money and I was on my own as far as paying for the wedding. Some close friends did help here and there. Bless them.
The wedding day came, we were married, everyone (but my Mom) was happy.
The reception started and we did our thing. The time came for us to dance and we danced half a song before he was done. (keep in mind the standards set forth by our religion would not allow contact between two people who were not married or who were not related, including dancing together) My Dad danced with me for a dance while My husband, Scott danced with his Mother and then I went back to my place at the table. My husband told me he was getting a headache and wanted to start thinking about leaving. (We were very early into the reception...) He got up and started to walk around talking to people, the next thing I knew he was slow dancing with a young lady. I had met her a few times but I really didn't know her. He continued to dance with several other women while I sat at my place. After a set was done I asked him if we could dance again, he said he didn't want to. Instead he decided he was going to get some of our things together and I was to start saying good bye to people. I mentioned at least serving the cake before we left. No comment was made. I started to gather things together and to let certain people know we were planning on leaving. (that didn't go down well at all, Someone else had purchased the cake for us as a gift and we hadn't even served it yet) When I went to find Scott he was once again on the dance floor with this woman he had danced with a few times before that night. What was I to say? What could I say? Nothing according the the good wife I was to be, submissive to my husband.
After the dance was complete, a very dominate person (and the one who purchased the cake for us) talked to Scott and said it was time for people to have cake and would we please cut it for them. He agreed, and we did our duty. It wasn't long afterwards that he was ready to leave. He used the microphone and when he was to thank everyone for coming he actually said he would miss his good friends who were moving away the next day. I whispered to him to say thank you. He said, "Oh and thank you." Then handed the microphone back to the band. I must say I was utterly embarrassed. Our good byes were said and we were off to start our new life together. Both of us innocent and discovering life as a married couple and what that meant, together.
And so the person that I married died and I found myself faced with a new , different person.
My newly wed husband couldn't wait to get home to have sex. He pulled off the road onto a dead end dirt road and proceeded to force himself on me. I say force because, I was not comfortable with the situation, I was in my wedding dress in the car outside on a road, the first time I was to make love. Then things turned for the worse. He didn't want to have normal sex... he wanted and took anal sex... in the car on a dirt road, in my wedding dress. I hadn't even know How the whole thing worked, I knew very little. I had no clue there was movement involved. I had never seen a man undressed before never alone in that state of excitement. The blood still stains my wedding dress. I couldn't take it to the dry cleaners, what would I say?
The worst part was I felt this was very wrong and yet I was to submit to my husband. Later after going home he proceeded to take what he wanted once again. This time in the "normal fashion" . He continued most of the night in some fashion of another, his headache magically gone. I felt more then violated and humiliated. I thought what he had done was normal and I should accept it. It wasn't until much later I would find out what he did was very very wrong.
Actually what I found out was what WE did was very wrong. It was one day while reading some information put together by our religious organization that I discovered having anal sex was not permitted. I was devastated. Now what? Of course I had to do to our Elders in the congregation and let them know what had happened. The response was , "You must come in and we will sit down and talk about what happened and how to best move forward." We sat down as a group Three of them so there were plenty of witnesses as to what has happened and what was said. There was disbelief, the comment was made, "Well apparently you enjoyed it or you wouldn't have done it.. " along with lots of shaking of the head. How do I tell them I didn't even know what it was... I didn't like it... I didn't want it? Scott was sitting next to me, hand on my arm. another question, "Was there force involved, rape?" Everyone in the room looked at me besides Scott. All I got from him was a brief but clear squeeze of the arm. Enough force to say, "You will come home with me. No matter what happens you can not leave me, You have only me to face for the rest of your life." Divorce, in this religion is totally out of the question unless there is adultery and even then it is looked down upon as a failure to forgive.
So I looked at this group of men and said in a small whisper, "No"
There for we were both found guilty of this obscene act and were punished accordingly. We were not removed from the organization because we were found to be repentant.
I was slipped into a depression and my husband proceeded with his lewd acts. He stopped for awhile but eventually he would go right back to what he liked best. He couldn't seem to enjoy the act without some kind of oddity to go along with it. I soon discovered he would watch porn, all kinds. What he saw on the tape he wanted to try. He would later tell me he had been watching porn since he was 8 or 9 years old. A friend's father had a ton of tapes and they would watch them when they went over to his house. Some of the things he saw I guess you would call hard core. I wasn't too far into our marriage that he started to use duct tape to tape my hands and feet together and do as he wished. Often it would include anal sex along with other extremes. Putting whatever he could find inside of me, multiple objects....
One notable day he had me close my eyes, he had a surprise for me. At that time I still trusted him so I closed my eyes. What I received was an electrical current to my clitoris. He hooked up his guitar cords to the amplifier producing a current strong enough for a hair raising zap. I thought I was going to die. I hurt so very badly. He on the other hand enjoyed it on his own genitals. He proceeded to place the same wired inside of himself.
After some time of this kind of treatment to himself it was hard for him to get his jollies. He would use the shop vac or tie leather shoestring around the base of himself to keep hard. The list goes on and on....
Soon it would turn to other things...
April can be a very difficult month for me. First and foremost it is the month I was married. The 27th to be exact. It is also the day I was Raped. I am not going there today. I am just stating a fact in recognition of what I have been dealing with.
I sit here and think,maybe I should go ahead and talk about it. Get it out, why save it for another day? It is fresh in my mind, I might as well clear it out of my soul while it is so fresh.
Before that, I have to explain a bit more leading up to that day. Maybe a bit more about the religion that I wrapped around myself. And about my Mother's involvement in all of it.
