When I met my husband, Peter, through a mutual friend in North Carolina, I thought I'd found Mr. Wonderful and that my dreams of a perfect marriage had come true. He was cute, friendly, and a gentleman. But what I liked most was his spontaneity. Whenever we'd go on a date, I never knew what he had planned.
I couldn't believe how well we got along during our first two years of marriage. Even our sex life was great, or so I thought. Then one day Peter came home from work with a pornographic movie. "I just want to spice up our sex life a little," he said. "There's nothing wrong with trying something new." The kinky three-partner sex scenes we watched tormented me the rest of the night.
But that was just the beginning of what he wanted to try.
I grew up in a legalistic Christian home where my mom lived to please my dad. I learned at a young age that women should be submissive to their husbands, and I strictly applied this concept to my marriage. I felt trapped in a moral dilemma and didn't know what to do. Do I run from this repulsive situation and disobey what I had been taught about proper wifely behavior, or do I submit to my husband and humiliate myself?
After enduring a lot of Peter's "sweet talk," I gave in to his wishes.
I didn't complain. I felt as though I had to submit. Every time I tried to protest, I'd hear my mother's voice: Make sure your husband is happy. Do whatever he asks of you.
I didn't dare talk to anyone about our lifestyle. I couldn't confide in my family. And although Peter and I had both become Christians at a young age, we rarely attended church. With nowhere to turn, I felt desperately alone.1