I married a man to get away from home, have a place to sleep, and food to eat. I was at that time a very lost soul, a starving artist, still living at home. He wasn't the one who offered, I begged. In addition to the rather obvious economic issue, I am also an out and about lesbian. Hunger, frustration, will drive you to do the unthinkable. I was convinced I could do 'it', and I could manage a house. I was wrong on both counts.
My husband found a young hispanic girl, also poor, who preferred to be a mistress than being poor. One day I confronted her. I was not sexually active with my husband, I confronted her about having sex with him, he was married, I told her. And to be even more stupid, I told her I did not give her permission to have sex with him. And I backed myself into a corner, closed my eyes, and laid back with my legs open. I immediately regretted it, but it was too late. Now I was his wife in the Biblical sense and he wasn't going to give me up.
My husband let me know he wanted me to give him a baby. Like immediately. I did. And another one. I had to learn how to manage a home. How to budget, how to manage money. And how to diaper babies.
I asked that girl if she would help me. I didn't want a third girl, better her because I knew he liked her, and she needed the money. She agreed to be my nanny. And come live with me. I gave her permission, looked the other way, and accepted her beside me. That's what I discovered, it was easy, I kept it platonic, and I remained active with my husband. What they did under the sheets was none of my business.
