Jan. 1993 - Sept. 1995

This was truly the beginning of the end.

I got myself together, and applied to the local junior college, turned in my financial aid early, was accepted and approved, and took my first real classes the summer of 1993. (I took 3 classes a semester for the next three years, going almost every semester. I think I skipped two.) Things really started getting weird from then on.

He would always appear to be supportive of my going to school, but he would make little remarks about how I was neglecting my "wifely duties," which included house-cleaning, cooking, taking care of the kids, and, of course, sex. Fact was, his mother kept the house very neat, and she was a good sitter for the most part. I did the cooking, nobody ever went hungry.

As for sex, I simply was not interested in sex (this happens frequently - I thought I was tired - now I know I was becoming very dissatisfied with our relationship). However, I felt that it was my job, like maybe if I could GET interested again, things would be better.

He kind of realized the dilemma I was in and used it to make me feel guilty about everything. He tried to "guilt" me into doing things I didn't EVEN want to do. For example, he really put on the pressure to bring another woman into our bedroom for a menage-a-trois. Now that may be some people's idea of a good time, and that's fine for them, but I'm not even remotely interested in anything like that.

This pressuring went on for a couple of months and one night came to a screeching halt. We went for a drink at a bar that he frequented; a strip-joint. I decided that the way to make things right with us was to try life his way, to be more open to partying and going to bars. Well, he introduced me to this "friend" of his, a dancer, who just happened to be bi-sexual. This little fact was whispered in my ear, accompanied by "Does she turn you on?" I was disgusted and left. I started walking home, and he came after me, finally realizing by my extreme reaction that I was not interested. He said he only brought it up as a joke.

Around the end of October 1994, I discovered he had an affair with another woman. She called me to confess. She felt so very guilty because she was my friend. He managed to ruin a friendship. (I know, it takes two. But to this day, I think he did it because he was jealous of my friendship with her.) I asked him about it, and with his answer THE LIGHT WENT ON. He didn't deny it, he said, "She's just trying to drive us crazy." I know now THAT was the day that I began to really think about getting the hell away from him and that I didn't love him anymore.

You see, this man never lied to me. Ever. He would very skillfully OMIT and DANCE AROUND the truth. Example: one night he came home from work, showered, and left again. He was gone until 3 a.m. The next day, I asked "where were you?" His answer was, "I went over to Joe's."

A couple of days later, I was talking to Joe's wife on the phone, and I laughingly apologized for him being over so late. She said, "oh no, he was only here about 45 minutes around 8 o'clock." Now, notice, he didn't lie. He did go "over to Joe's," he just left out all the rest of it.

From then on, I paid very close attention. I forgave the infidelity, telling myself "once is a mistake. He was drunk." But I watched very closely. If I asked him where he went, he would get very defensive and accuse me of checking up on him. And the only answer I would get was, "just driving around, thinking."

During this time, he made it so hard for me to have a "normal" life. I had friends, but if I went to their house, I was "meeting" someone. Or we were "plotting" against him. He actually told me these things! After all, why would I want to spend more time with my friends than my husband?

Needless to say, my friends never came to our house because he made them feel too uncomfortable. He'd sit and listen very attentively to our conversation, not contributing, just almost monitoring what we'd say. So they quit coming over. The same thing would happen if my folks came to town. We would hardly have a private moment. He was always "hovering" right there. He actually told me one time that he didn't want us talking about him while they were visiting. I laughed at him, saying they couldn't care less about HIM, they wanted to talk about the grandkids. But he was so paranoid.

When I went to the grocery store, if I was gone longer than he thought I should be, I was accused of being in the storeroom with the bagboy. Really! I can laugh at it now, but then it horrified me. I had to account for every minute and every penny, and most of the time I had to take at least one of the kids with me everywhere I went. The thing is, I wasn't doing anything. But in order to prove to him I was faithful, I had to abide by his rules. And that didn't even work. He still accused me of all kinds of evil plots and infidelities.

As far as school went, I was making straight A's, staying on the Dean's list. I do not know how I managed, but I did. He never said he was proud of me, never would offer to keep the kids busy so I could study. He would just remark that I cared more about school than our family, that school was the top priority in my life. He even went so far as to say that I must be sleeping with my professors to make such good grades. At one point, I informed him that two of my professors that semester were women, and he said, "So? It could happen."

He became literally OBSESSED with anything connected with sex, whether it was porn movies, magazines, peekaboo lingerie, whatever. He started staying home, but he would camp out in our bedroom, watching those movies. Then expect me to do the things he saw in them. I know now that not only was I subjected to verbal abuse, but I endured sexual abuse as well.

A little "fun" goes a long way. Sometimes, in a healthy relationship, you and your partner might want to experiment with new things, but in this instance it went way past playful. I don't even want to admit some of the things I let him do, but feel free to use your imagination. I was probably subjected to whatever you can come up with. And I did this all in the name of "fixing" the marriage.

I began to dread going to bed. I'd stay up past midnight, just to avoid the bedroom. I would wait til he fell asleep, then creep into bed, praying he wouldn't wake up. Sometimes, of course, he would just wait me out, then I had no way out.

Then, he fell at work, hurt his back, and was unable to work for a long time. IF I thought it was bad before, it started getting worse.

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