She’s younger than me, smarter than me, better looking than me, makes more money than me, and is a good cook! I sounds stupid but I knew she was the one when I met her. I took it slow though, we had been dating for about 16 months when I asked her parent’s blessing.
Aw, lovely. It’s been just over a year now that we’ve been engaged and we’ve been together 3.5 years (weird!). It feels just right. I’m anxious about every single thing to do with the wedding except being married to him. That part is easy and good.
I asked him the other day if he was worried about getting married and being stuck with me, and he said “no, I already feel stuck with you.” lol
Maybe it was the homemaking, but I thought you guys were already hitched. Or maybe it was just that you were living happily ever after. Anyway, I’m very glad about your continued happiness!
So I came across this NYTimes article and the group therapy thing reminded me of my dating process here in this thread. I got a kick out of it and thought I’d share an excerpt. @orion, @SkyzykS, and all the rest of you who weighed in and took time to offer feedback (and then argue among yourselves), thank you and merry Christmas!
After all, wasn’t therapy about asking for help? Nine years earlier, when I first found my way to this office, I wasn’t thinking about triple-letter scores. In our initial session, I told him that if I had one more failed relationship with an alcoholic or drug addict, I was going to kill myself.
He promised he could help on two conditions: First, I had to join one of his therapy groups (rather than seeing him individually). And second, I had to turn over every aspect of my romantic and sexual life to him and the group.
“No more going it alone,” he said.
I was desperate. If he had told me to follow him into the jungle and drink Kool-Aid, I would have packed my bags that afternoon.
“What would it look like for me to teach you Scrabble?” he asked.
The rest of the group groaned. We had been together for years, each playing a role. Our therapist was the father figure to whom we appealed for help, from whom we sought approval, or against whom some of us rebelled.
My fellow group members insisted that my role in this family was the favorite child, partly because I was the youngest by more than a decade, but also because I followed every one of our therapist’s suggestions. No rebellious streak here. Of the six of us “kids,” I had always been the most openly adoring, the most likely to side with our therapist on any issue.
For me, compliance made perfect sense. I had done exactly what my therapist had suggested — disclosed to him and the group when I flirted with cabdrivers, slept with co-workers and had erotic dreams about dead celebrities. And miraculously, after six years, I had learned to sidestep addicts and bad boys, those shiny pennies I had spent my life stooping to pick up.
Now I had a kind husband, a spirited 10-month-old daughter, and was pregnant with a son. Why wouldn’t I do what he told me?
P.S. For those of you who remember, I got a message from Tim just last week, and there were apparently a couple of others I’d missed. He continues to pop up once a year or so, without any response from me now for what, four years? (Since @angry_chicken told me he was disrespecting me.)
Men! They’re bizarre.
Merry Christmass! I’m glad you’ve found lasting happiness and someone to share it with.
1 Like
Seems like the intro to some pretty hot D/s erotic literature.
1 Like
On a different note, I hope all is well with you, EmQ.
1 Like
If it weren’t for porn, I’d do no reading at all!
1 Like
Nice to see another married lady. Congrats!
1 Like