You Fooled Me!

You Fooled Me!

 

Chapter One... Marriage? More Like Being Trapped In Hell, If You Ask Me

 

Men.

It was a simple three-letter word that was used as a typical name for an adult male. But to a girl who'd just had her heart broken by the man she thought she'd spend her whole life with, it was a term that she used to harshly describe the whole male population of the world.

Imagine being totally and amazingly in love with the perfect guy. He puts a ring on your finger, and you go on happily existing in your romantic bubble. But then you put on a white dress, you walk down an aisle and you say I do in front of a crowd of your friends and family. You're celebrating tying the knot, and declaring yourselves to each other for the rest of your lives, and you're thinking that everything will remain the same forever.

But then you live in the same house, you share a bed, and you fight over absolutely everything from money, to when you're going to start trying for kids. And the fighting never stops, no. It's constant, and all that's running through your mind at this point is what the hell was I thinking?

Of course, not all marriages are like this. No. But the unfortunate and tragic thing is that mine was. I was living in a house with a man who I loved, or at least I thought I did. But he was off, screwing several other girls and leaving you at home with the baby.

Reality sucked.

But the worst thing was that I knew he was cheating on me. I knew he was popular with the ladies. And yet I was still too afraid to leave him.

Did I tell people about it? Yes. But their advice was simple. Leave him.

The thing many people don't understand about a marriage is that you have to try and make it work. But I suppose I'd just about given up. It was hard to pretend that everything was all peachy and lovey-dovey, and that the romance hadn't died. It was difficult to ignore the fact that your husband came home every night reeking of some hundred dollar perfume, and you'd still give him what he wanted and just look the other way.

Plus, when there's a child involved, you don't know what's the best thing to do. Stay? Or go?

Instinct told me that with my not-so charming husband Rick that I'd always have everything I wanted. I was married, I was in love...

The problem? He didn't love me back, and I could see it in his eyes.

I'd wanted to wait to have children, but he'd begged me. Pleaded. So just weeks after our elaborate wedding and romantic honeymoon we were trying for a baby. He took pleasure in destroying any means of birth control I might happen to use, and if only I'd seen it then... He took pleasure in destroying me.

Of course, I loved my daughter Indiana with all of my heart. But she was almost two and I knew that sooner or later he'd want to try for another one. I didn't think I could handle that burden, wanting to wait another year or so. But with a husband who was never home, who would want to have kids? Even when he wasn't working, he was never home.

I was a slave. I raised Indiana, I cleaned the house, I cooked... I was the perfect housewife. The only problem here was that this wasn't who I wanted to be. I wanted a career, but yes, a family would be nice.

People telling me I had a perfect little family grinded my teeth. If only they knew...

Still, I'd chosen to stay. Not by choice, really. But if I left, I'd have nowhere to go. My parents were all but a distant memory now, given that Rick had driven them away by lying to them about my whereabouts constantly. I didn't have any siblings, and Rick's family were all deceased. I was screwed if I left here.

I slaved away again in the kitchen with dinner, only for him not to come home. This was fast becoming a regular occurence, but I knew that the night I only cooked for myself he'd come home, demanding food. And I was weak, and I knew I would cave.

Some days I wondered why I put myself through this. It was no longer a case of because I love him. Now the answer to my continuous unspoken question was it's because of Indiana.

I sat in the living room, television on but my eyes glaring instead at the clock on the mantle. It was after ten, and he hadn't come home yet. The show that was playing on the television suddenly caught my eye, and I felt like I was watching my life in a Hollywood show. It was pathetic, really. Men could be so hurtful to women.

Of course, it works both ways. Women could be rather hurtful, too.

Then I heard a car pull up, and my body froze. He was home.

I waited until I heard him unlock the door before I got to my feet. I carefully composed my face so that it didn't look like I'd been thinking about what he'd been getting up to in my absence. I walked over to my husband, and he opened his arms. I walked into them without hesitation.

Why? Because I was playing along with his game. For now.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he kissed the top of my head. "The boys took me out for a beer. I couldn't say no, of course."

"Of course," I repeated with a smile. "How was work?"

"The usual," he groaned. "Dull."

"Well, I'm heading to bed," I sighed. "Indiana's out like a light. I'll see you up there."

"Don't fall asleep," he said teasingly. Great. It was going to be one of those nights.

"I'll try not to," I chuckled.

I could smell the Chanel No.5 that he was mysteriously wearing. It was the scent he usually wore home, though on occasion it was something different. The women he slept with were all rich, or had rich husbands, too. But from experience, money isn't everything.

As I laid down in bed, Rick entered the room. He jumped in the shower, something I was grateful for. For all I knew, he'd slept with several girls tonight. Of course, as far as Rick was concerned, I didn't know he was a cheater.

When he was done in the shower, Rick came to bed. Not bothering to put on any clothes, he walked from the bathroom naked and climbed into bed. I stripped down, too. Before I could fully get my naked self back into the bed, he pulled me down and started kissing me. I could still smell the perfume on him, yet I gave him the sex he wanted anyway. He fell asleep immediately after, but not me.

I laid there, wide awake, wondering why I let a man who'd slept with God-knows-who sleep with me. He could have anything, because the only protection we used was the brilliant pills that assured me I wouldn't fall pregnant.

Tears silently escaped my eyes. Was this really what my life had become? I was staying with a man, simply because I took a vowel to stay with him til death do we part. Because we had a child. Because I was too scared.

And the sad truth? Yes.

Those were the exact and only reasons I was staying.