6 months into marriage, my doting husband—the megachurch pastor—added his own twist to the potent concoction: a double shot of disdain with a generous pour of chastising, gaslighting, and blame, shaken with a bit of mockery, and finished with a twist of zesty disgust at the mere sight of me.
Don't assume no one cares. Instead, you can safely assume someone probably feels defeated and a bit like she's failing. You can assume she's overwhelmed. Frustrated. Hopeless to the point where she's considered burning the place down and starting over somewhere new. You can assume she's tired. Soooo dang tired.
"We will slog through our children’s Algebra homework, do Zumba in public and pluck the hair from our body ONE PIECE AT A TIME. But tell a girl to have sex every night and she looks at you like you are crazy. An orgasm? Every night? What do I look like? A Nymphomaniacal Super Woman?"
I look to my left, and my stomach literally plummets to the ground. Then my heart begins to race. At the end of our pew, sat the same single Dad and his 2 children.