What's Love Gotta Do with Marriage
Momma said, “Show me a faithful man, I’ll turn water into wine by the blink of an eye.” Since a young girl, I was taught to fight for my family, no matter how high the stakes were. How could I not follow in feeble footsteps laid before me at the impressionable age of seven when I heard momma begging daddy not to leave her for the woman who’d given him two outside children?
Straight out the wombs, coached and trained a woman should sacrifice everything for her husband and children. For a long time, I still heard my momma’s voice, “That’s what strong women do.” Surrender my dignity and self-respect all in the name of preserving deep-rooted family values. Ideals passed down from the mothers of all mothers. “Endure to the end,” they said. “Close your mouth and let his ass cheat in peace,” they said.
It was as if the ancestors were guiding the fuckery as I prepared to lay down my life for a man who could care less if I lived or died. What was the thing older women said? “A real woman knows the power of her words and knows how to keep peace in her home.” Blah, blah, blah — a bunch of brainwashed old-broads if you’d ask me today. Some philosophical dogshit wrote by a man to justify him cheating on his wife. I’d bet my last dollar!
Although still quite painful to admit, a year ago, I was one of those women. I worked. I cooked. I cleaned. I inspired the man. I supported his dreams. I forgave. I endured. I sacrificed and fucked him on cue. Guess what? My husband still found an excuse to invite and welcomed other women into our bed and marriage.
I’m Sunni, the only child my father and mother shared together. I have two younger siblings; created by my father and his whore. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brothers Jack Jr. and Danny with all that I am. How could I not, when I spent my entire childhood, weekends, and birthdays with them and some holidays even?
My parents always said, “Jack Jr., Danny, and I were sister and brothers.” It didn’t matter we had different mothers. The only thing that mattered was that we were family. And family should always stick together no matter what; it was what a real family did.
Since the beginning, it was written that we lived in a man’s world. A woman’s opinion didn’t matter when it came down to her husband. A woman’s purpose and only importance to her man was barefoot, pregnant, and available for his every beck-and-call. Stone aged morals that ruined me as a millennial.
A woman’s orgasm wasn’t even considered back in the day. It was the man sexual desires fulfilled and satisfied. A woman was to lay on her back and let her man fuck her into a continuous, senseless cycle as the history of men dominated her. To justify and validate his sole purpose of existence.
Well, this woman had enough! Tired of waiting to be chosen. Waiting for him to propose. Waiting for him to do right and get his shit together. Waiting for him to jumpstart his career and then we could finally start a life together. Waiting for him to decide if it was me he wanted, or some other raggedy bitch his dick accidentally slipped into.
That’s right! My husband always found an excuse as to why he slept with other women. All the while, I was the one left broken-hearted as I waited for him to be faithful. Those days were gone! Those days were no more! It was time for us women to recognize our power and it started with me! I just wished I’d recognized it a whole lot sooner.
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