It's hard to start off a marriage, and even more so to maintain it, under far less than ideal circumstances, which was how it was with my first husband, Jim, my half-first cousin on my mother's side. While it ultimately wasn't due to his actually raping me, only because, as it tragically turned out, I would end up losing my virginity to him AFTER we were married [reference my Blog post https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2019/05/nothing-happens-in-vacuum-why-i-dropped_29.html for more background on this relationship], it certainly came about as a result of his sexual assault on me. That devastating violation of me, by him, had caused me to conclude that I had no choice but to marry him, since I was left believing I was now significantly Damaged Goods.
It had seemed, at the time, that he had taken my virginity from me, on that one night when he opportunistically took advantage of me when I was passed out drunk, unable to have any say in the matter. He had basically given me alcohol to drink for the first time in my life. I wasn't a teenager that had ever been in a partying clique, at all, or exposed to that directly in the home I grew up in. Back then, my father apparently drank some times, rarely, but no liquor was ever kept in our home as I was growing up there. In so many ways I was still an innocent, at age 18, when all of this happened to me. I had never before experienced the effects of alcohol in my body, to have any idea what it would do to me, but Jim knew. He absolutely knew what he was doing to me.
I had ended all interactions with him, previously, which he well knew, after he had quite suddenly stolen a romantic kiss from me, as I thought that was improper between us, as cousins, and for me I didn't see him in that way, in our relationship together. So, this was his second chance to be in my life, but apparently he had only wanted to be with me for romantic reasons, all along. As a female, only weighing somewhere around 100 pounds at the time, what he gave me to drink would hit me so fast and so hard that I was rendered completely unconscious for most of that night. The blacking out, going unconscious, throwing up, being queasy and hungover, were all aspects of what resulted from this first real exposure to alcohol, for me, but they were not the primary problem I was left with after that.
The blood stains on my panties, when it wasn't my period, and Jim's admitting to me that he had undressed me, put me into his bed, and penetrated me, while I lay there completely unconscious, was the main issue with what had happened to me that night at his apartment. I felt like my 'nice girl' status was gone forever because of what Jim had done to me, something which to my mind was required for me to be able to bargain for a better future for myself with someone I might really love, later on. Across cultures throughout the world, and in biblical Christianity, which was an important part of my life, it was of utmost importance that a young woman gave herself as a chaste virgin to her husband. This moral expectation can't be interpreted through the current, pervasive, social lens and still have this degree of significance be deeply understood. It was quite simply the bottom line of what a bride was expected to bring to the marital union; no pun intended.
Because Jim had so readily and frequently taken me out to eat at restaurants, and to movies, when I was enrolled in college, he seemed to me to be financially stable. He had told me that after being in the Navy, he had become a police officer for the city, for awhile, but when I was there at school I can only recall him doing some security jobs then. Although he drove an older car, he dressed neatly, kept himself clean, and the apartment that he and his roommate Harvey shared as bachelors was an attractive place with amenities. At age 27, he had also seemed, through my 18-year-old eyes, to already be old enough to become settled, in his life, on some kind of career path. So, in my naivete, I saw no Red Flags as far as his ability to make a living, and provide for me.
Ever since I was a little girl, shaped by things in my childhood, both good and bad, I had longed to be a homemaker, in a Christian home. It was, and would always be, the desire of my heart! There were various factors contributing to this, including my growing up watching the Andy Griffith show, about Mayberry, seeing all the women cooking and baking and being the heart of their homes. In fact, almost everything on TV modeling the family unit within its plot line showed the wife being a homemaker, so for me it was even more social conditioning, like the impact that being raised on the Disney movies of that era had on me. A woman in this role was a sign of the times in which I grew up. More women, overall, were still homemakers than not, then, and in many social circles it was still expected and encouraged. At church, the women were the heart of that, too, loading the long tables with their pleasing and palatable home cooked contributions to the church picnics.
My grandmother worked as a seamstress, but out of her home, and by the time I was in high school I was already sewing many of the outfits that I wore, enjoying that ability. My Aunt Gladys, who was my most favorite role model of what a good and godly woman should be, and several other aunts as well, were homemakers. As a little girl, I had always been most drawn to the toys having to do with household tasks, cooking and baking, home decor, and so forth. And finally, my being expected to do household chores, from a young age, growing up, caused me to develop a large degree of my personal identity around those skills and the emotions and self-esteem which I associated with them.
Even though the Women's Lib movement was just coming into being in the late 1960s, as I was growing up, I felt it shouldn't only support women inclined toward the opportunity for careers outside the home, if they wanted that, but it should also give respect and affirmation to those women who still wanted to work in the home, when that resonated with who they were, and because they truly enjoyed that, as I did. While that wasn't the case, with the Movement, I looked back over all of human history and saw that women, bringing their heart to the home, made significant social contributions that left a lasting impact on the quality of life for their own families and for their communities.
Additionally, I hadn't come to the marriage with Jim with any financial debt of my own; and few needs. It never occurred to me that he could and would struggle so constantly to get, have, and keep employment, usually taking jobs that were considered General Labor. We lived in a very modest manner, and I didn't ask for a lot from him. Still, as he demonstrated that he would only be able to do so little, I was seeing that meeting my most basic needs simply seemed to be too much for him. There was no lack of the type of jobs which he would be hired for, only a lacking in Jim being able to keep one for very long. If I worked outside the home, it would mean to me that my identity was again compromised, due to my relationship with him, in another negatively impactful way, so I chose not to, for most of our marriage. When I did finally do so, for a while, in Greensboro, it was a disaster for me, which would end up costing me more, by far, than it would ever provide.
After my finally getting a job, as a waitress at a diner, from which I walked home after work because Jim had the only car that we had, with him, I accepted the offer for a ride home one afternoon from a regular customer whom I waited on every day. He never spoke much, while he would sit there in the diner eating his lunches, but I felt that I knew him because he was always in there, and his offer seemed genuinely helpful. He had pulled up in the diner parking lot just as I had left after my shift and was now starting my lengthy walk home, leaning out the window of his pickup truck and saying he would be glad to give me a ride. I climbed in to the truck, thanking him. As I gave him the directions, where to turn right, and then left, headed toward the apartment Jim and I lived in at the time, nothing at all seemed in any way out of the ordinary. I appreciated not having to walk home, again, after being on my feet at work for my shift.
Everything was fine, all the way up until I pointed out my actual apartment, finally, just ahead, and was telling him he could drop me off right there at the stop sign, when he suddenly sped up and ran it, not stopping then or at all, until he had driven me out into some weeds, somewhere off road, parking his truck. He jumped out of his driver side door, pulling his pants down, and exposing himself. Then, he started dragging me toward him and yanking my pants off of me, as I kept trying to pull myself back away from him by grabbing onto the steering wheel, which kept turning and causing me to lose any leverage I had hoped to gain from holding onto that. As he pulled me to the edge of the bench seat in his pickup, gravity kicked in also to pull me down toward him. I noticed the gun rack in his back window, then, and wondered if he were also going to kill me and leave my body there in the weeds, after he raped me.
All he said to me, during this, was, "I just want to know if you can love!" Can you imagine that? A man saying that to a woman he has now kidnapped and is raping! After I couldn't get any more leverage by holding the steering wheel to try to pull myself away from him, I kept trying to at least cover my vagina with my hand, to keep him from getting his penis inside of me. He still managed to, though, and quickly he was done with his dirty deed against me. Immediately afterward, almost as a reflex, I again put my hand over the opening to my vagina, but this time it got some of his semen on it. Instinctively, I pulled my pants back on me, while simultaneously wondering if I were going to die now, too. Instead, he pulled his own pants back up, got back into his pickup truck, and drove me well past my apartment, again, after going back toward it, but this time he pulled up in the parking lot of a large shopping center, and simply told me in a very matter-of-fact voice to get out.
I scrambled out of the passenger side door, and looking at me he simply said, "Don't tell anyone", and he drove off, leaving me to walk home, from there. As I headed home, grossed out and extremely upset, I realized that he had wanted to first see exactly where I lived, as kind of a threatening aspect of his crime, so that I knew that he now knew where I lived. So, I never told the police. I did wonder if he would ever show up at my apartment, or break in, to rape me again. It was all so terrifying to me! Jim was still at work when I got home, so I called my mother after I came in the door, and had locked it behind me. I was sobbing, and I told her I had just been raped! She responded that she couldn't talk because she had something in the oven that she didn't want to burn, and she hung up. When Jim got home, I told him, but by then I was so hysterical that I don't even recall much more about that but me crying as I described what had happened to me.
One day, awhile later, Jim and I were eating out somewhere, and I suddenly saw that man, who had raped me, sitting in there as a customer! Shaking, I pointed him out to Jim, but, he never did anything. There is one more thing about my working at the diner: On top of my getting raped, by the customer from there, the man, that was the owner, never paid me, for my work, taking the employee payroll and skipping out with that money, never to be seen or heard from, again.
That rape so traumatized me that it left me with sexual dysfunction. Jim and I were never able to have sex again during the rest of our marriage, after that happened. Any time that I even tried to, with him, I would immediately have to sit up, audibly gagging and retching, as my stomach began convulsing in waves and I would very nearly vomit, right then and there. We had already been having problems in the bedroom, right from the start, before this had even happened to me. In fact, our sex life was a big disappointment for me, all the way around. He didn't last long at all, during intercourse, and he wasn't skilled at knowing how to make it feel like something that I would look forward to, or get enthusiastic about doing with him. I had never enjoyed sex with him.
It was distressing to me, in itself, even before, and in addition to, my being raped by the diner customer. I thought that was because something was wrong with me, since women usually get the blame for any problems in the bedroom, Jim clearly blamed me for it, and I had no sexual experience prior to my marriage to him to know that he was actually just really bad in bed. All I knew for sure, at the time, was that it was always over with fast, it didn't feel good, and I didn't enjoy it.
I wouldn't realize until later on, when I would finally have really great sex with someone, joyfully discovering that there was nothing wrong with my sexual responsiveness at all, that Jim was deficient, not proficient, in the sack. That new man, who happened to also be named Jim, became like my own personal sex therapist, consciously working with me, on it, after I told him that I had been raped, until he was able to bring me out of the frigidity, to the other end of the spectrum, with us becoming sexually insatiable together. But, that would happen a few years later, in my life, after I enlisted in the Air Force, and is another story for another time, here.
Jim also snored. LOUDLY. Every night! All night! If you want to become supremely annoying to someone, try sleep depriving them, continually, so they are NEVER really rested! Some nights, when he was especially loud, I would just lay there staring at him, soundly sleeping away, while I was unable to sleep at all, from it. Feeling tired, irritable, and resentful, I would often shove him over onto his side, to quiet him (with him never waking up, even from that), so I could get some rest! Of course, even after I got to sleep, once he would roll back over, during the night, he would wake me, as his snoring started up, again.
I swore to myself, then and there, that I would NEVER marry, or even sleep with, another man in my entire life that snored (and I didn't)! For me, that alone became a bad enough issue to become a deal breaker in any intimate relationship. A person HAS to have some SLEEP in order to have the energy, and the right frame of mind, to accomplish what they need to, on any given day. Sleep is a necessity! Having a man in my life, and in my bed, is not. Countries that are at WAR with one another even use Sleep Deprivation to wear out and break down their prisoners. >sigh!<
While I did try to make the best of a bad situation, in my marriage with Jim, it just wasn't going to be nearly enough of an attitude adjustment, on my part, to ever get our relationship to a good place. If everything else in our relationship had been EXCELLENT, which NONE of it was anywhere NEAR, Jim's loud, nightly, snoring was enough to cause me to really start to HATE him, after awhile, because it was exhausting me! There wasn't anywhere, in the places that we lived, that I couldn't hear it. There was also nothing I tried that was enough to block it out, so that I could finally have some peace and quiet at night.
So, bed was in NO way a pleasant place for us to be, together. It's just as well, that we weren't meshing, or merging, much in bed. One of the reasons that genetically close marital relationships, like ours was, are frowned upon, and even, legally, forbidden, in places, due to certain degrees of kinship, is out of concern for any offspring resulting from such inbreeding. Jim never said if that concerned him, but I also made sure that I was not able to get pregnant during this marriage.
Not just for that reason, but because I continually daydreamed about leaving him, even as early on as when we were in Fresno, only I didn't know how I could accomplish that without my having to go back into some close proximity with my own childhood family, whom I was not at all comfortable with. Especially if you are a man reading this, and it jumps out at you that I sound self-serving, to put things the way that I have here, in my honest description of what was going on in this marriage, and how I truly felt about it, I will point out that neither Jim nor I were without blame in the situation that we found ourselves in. I will also remind you of the fact that this entire thing started solely because of Jim's extremely self-serving thoughts and behaviors, toward me, which left me with devastating consequences to deal with in my life! I will not try to 'paint a pretty picture' here, or in any of my Blog posts. I am simply being as honest and transparent as I can about the events of my life. IT IS WHAT IT IS.
For Jim to have wanted to possess me so badly, and to finally have me as his wife, it was remarkable how little effort he made to make any part of that be better for us. I am sure that he was hearing some negative feedback, about us; likely through his talks with his mother, who was probably voicing to him the opinions of our other relatives about this particular family scandal of us marrying one another. He never seemed to be at all strong in his convictions that we should even be married at all, and I never was, either, which certainly didn't help matters any.
While we lived in Fresno, which he had chosen simply because his best buddy from his, Navy, service days lived there, Jim only took me to visit him and his wife a couple of times. From things his friend said to me during those visits, which were overtly hostile toward me, it was clear that Jim was communicating with him much more frequently than both our visits there together, and apparently in a way that made me the villain in this story. This further alienated any possible affections I might have had, or been able to develop, toward Jim, because it furthered my feeling of disunity with him.
When we eventually moved back to Greensboro, North Carolina, his home town, he would visit his family but never took me with him, except for once, when I pointed out to him that I was married to him now, after all. Even that one time, he pulled his car up in front of his mother's (my aunt's) house and parked, and never went in. She came outside to speak with us. She was always a pleasant acting woman. I never, ever, saw her be mean, cold, or rude in any way, like my own mother would get. When she came outside to meet us, at the curb in Jim's car, apparently her cat got out of the house, with her, and ran into the street, getting hit by a car, and killed, right in front of us! I watched, in horror, as this woman walked into the street, to pull the dead cat out of the road, and then, seeing that I looked so upset, by that, and her being so compassionate, she reached through the open car window to touch me to comfort me, with the same hand she had just dragged the cat by. That also horrified me, and needless to say, my one visit wasn't a good memory at all.
I never understood the mystery of my never being allowed into her house. It was Jim that kept me out of there, for whatever reason. It made me very curious, and a little bit scared, about what actually went on inside that house causing it to be Off Limits like that! I never did know. A couple of times, Jim's siblings, my cousins, came to the door of our apartment, to speak with him, but they would never come in, and they never spoke to me. Because this particular group of people, within our family tree, had always been socially isolated, including during the large family reunions, I attended, growing up, I didn't think that all of this unusual behavior of theirs was about me, specifically.
It did become clear to me, though, that Jim had complained to his mother about me, as well, which, again, does not breed any feeling of closeness or intimacy with one's spouse when that is done. While his doing that was unfair, toward me, partly because, he was never speaking directly, with me, about any of the things we needed to address, with one another, truthfully, that wouldn't have helped us, anyway. With all that had and was going wrong, between us, our marriage never stood one chance in hell of making it.
Adding to the issue was the fact that all of his relatives were also all of my relatives, so that anything that was leaked, about either one, or both, of us, to our family tree, from either one, or both, of us, would likely make the rounds of being talked about, by everyone, of, familial, significance, in both our lives; causing these people, most of whom cared about us both, to then possibly feel the need to start taking sides, about us.
This in fact happened, with one aunt and uncle that we stayed with, briefly, while we were married. This uncle had always been especially affirming, and supportive, of me, as I was growing up, which had always been deeply appreciated by me, especially, since, my father, had not been. Now, he was scolding me, and even snapping at me, as if I were to blame, for Jim's problems, rather than the other way around; if, in fact, he, even should have (as the uncle, of both, of us) assigned blame, between Jim and I. I cried, over that incident, one which also further alienated me from Jim, since it happened in front of him and he did nothing to set it straight, causing me to feel that something he had actually told them might have prompted this, sudden, and complete, change, toward me.
It was all rather surreal to me. This marriage between my cousin and I. While I was certainly part of the problem, of Jim and I being married, to one another (which I am sure, was very awkward, for everyone, to say the least), I did try very hard, never, to tell the relatives, about our marital problems, because I didn't want to put any of them in this position of, feeling, uncomfortably, caught in the middle, of that, or of having to take sides, in some way, regarding, the two of us. So, I never even told any of them what had caused Jim and I to get married, in the first place. Not one single relative. Not even to defend myself, which most people, in my position, would have certainly felt, they had a right, to do, especially when being chastised for it.
Even when that uncle, whom I had always been so close to, before this, clearly took a side, which was Jim's, deciding I was the one at fault, for the situation, and being hostile, toward me, because of that, without knowing the facts, I never spoke up to defend myself. It would have put Jim in a very bad light, with our relatives, who would never have approved of what he had done, toward me; some of whom, had helped raise him, when he was small, and his, then single, mother, was trying to get on her feet. I felt that, I couldn't defend myself, when doing so would have hurt everyone. It was very hard on me, though.
I comforted myself by knowing that God, Who is my one, true Judge, knew, the truth, and that, if anyone decided to turn on me, in that way my uncle did, as simply a biased show of loyalty, toward Jim, which had nothing to do with the facts, that it was, on them, not on me, for their doing so.
Years later, after Jim and I were divorced, I was about to enter an aunt's house, for one of the family reunions, when Aunt Gladys ran outside, to meet me, just as I arrived, at the house, and, taking me aside, warned me, in a loving way, that Jim was inside, with his new, second, wife. Aunt Gladys was being so sweet, about it, and showing such concern, for me, that, I almost told her, the facts, about how Jim and I even ended up together, at all, to ease her mind, about me. But, I didn't. Not even, with her; because she was also Jim's Aunt Gladys! With such concern, for me, showing on her face, as she 'prepared' me for what she sincerely thought would be a difficult situation, for me, to see inside the house, I truly fought back laughter, while simply reassuring her, that I was absolutely fine, with it; never telling her that, in full disclosure, I couldn't care less! In fact, I felt sorry for the second wife, knowing Jim, as I did, and, how little, he was capable of, as a husband. I bet to myself they wouldn't last, and, I heard, at some point, that she left him, leaving their child, with him, too, I believe, since I had heard they had a son together. Maybe more. I truly didn't keep track. I was well rid of Jim.
Jim had some, inner conflicts, which, outwardly, displayed themselves, in sometimes, interesting, and other times, irritating, ways. He once went to see a pastor, about our marriage problems. Knowing our situation, full well, as cousins, and how our relationship had come about, in the first place, I doubt that he was honest, enough, with the minister, in any way, that would shed real light, on why, things weren't going well, between the two of us. He didn't even tell me about it, until afterward, and, he didn't ever go back, or take me, as, the other person, in this marriage, to seek counsel together. We never attended even one single church service, anywhere, the entire time we were together!
The day he came home, and told me, he had been to see this pastor, I asked him, what advice, if any, he had been given. Jim told me that, the pastor had told him, that he needed to come home, and bed me well, and that would take care of any, and all, other problems, in our relationship. I was amused, by this, for several reasons, but I simply replied, that, he, should tell the pastor, if he ever saw him, again, that, there was no way, that would ever, be able, to work, for us. (I stopped short, of saying "because my husband is so bad in bed", as I not only never said that, to Jim, but I also didn't fully realize, how true, that was, until after our divorce, and I had moved on, sexually, to see, there was a big difference, between what he did, between the sheets, and what, a different man, did there.)
Being, a virgin, coming into this, with Jim, and because he seemed to blame me, for it, I had no idea what great sex was, or even good sex, until after our marriage was over, and someone, with some talent, taught me the difference. Jim seemed to be incapable, of seeing his responsibility, regarding any given 'cause and effect' within our relationship. Going all the way back, to Adam, men have complained, even to God, Himself, that, all the fault, really lies, at the feet of, "This woman, that Thou gavest me." (Genesis 3:12)
Another, odd way, Jim had, of handling things, apparently in order be able to live with himself, was that he cursed, all the time, within, our relationship, at least; once we were married. Yet, he never said a curse word! He constantly peppered his sentences, to me, with "Down" this, and "Down" that, as some acceptable (to himself) form, of the word, "Damn". He never seemed able, to acknowledge, to himself, especially, that he was hurt, frustrated, and angry.
One day, knowing this wasn't good for him, and tired, of the silliness, and the hypocrisy, of him, saying, "Down" for "Damn", all the time, I took the sentence, he had just said, and asked him, "So, Jim, is the car on the road, or is it going DOWN? You, JUST SAID "the DOWN car", so how is it doing that? Going DOWN? If you MEAN, the DAMN car, which YOU DO, then why don't you JUST SAY the DAMN CAR; because you, me, AND GOD all KNOW that you MEAN the DAMN car, NOT the DOWN car!"
Especially, once he became embittered, by our relationship never fulfilling any of his fantasies, about it, after he had forced the issue in the first place, Jim manifested more, and more, anger, in his personality; only, he couldn't, or wouldn't, own up, to that. Some internal message, that he told himself, which he never articulated, to me, caused him to think that, he couldn't feel, he was the 'nice' guy, he considered himself, to be, and still, either, swear, or admit that he was, really, pissed off, by how, his life, was turning out.
As a result of that, he was always, outwardly, pleasant, as a person, but he stuffed so much anger, deep down, within himself, during his lifetime, that he died one month before his 63rd birthday. My youngest sister had emailed me, about it, at the time, saying that he had passed away, suddenly, of a massive heart attack. I replied, back, to her, that, while, I had known him, he had, always, been an angry person. Because of his, always, behaving, so pleasantly, that may have surprised her; or, she may have, doubted, what I was telling her, about him, having never seen that side, of him, herself.
But, I knew, that all the anger, within himself, that he always kept stuffing, in there, had to, eventually, blow, in some way, or other. Especially, after, I had heard, that his second wife, had left him, as well. I knew, that Jim, over time, had become a very angry man, even though, he hid that, from others. That will manifest, itself, in some way, at some point, even, and especially, if it is not dealt with. Anger, and other intense emotions, HAVE TO have AN OUTLET! Otherwise, those, strong emotions, will implode, in a person, destroying their health, and possibly, like with Jim, ending their life. Or, they will explode, very possibly in some violent, destructive, or aggressive, way, targeted toward another being, such as a person, or an animal; or, even some, inanimate, object, that may, or may not, have been part of, the cause, of those intense emotions.
While, Jim made sure, that he thought, of himself, as a nice guy, and that others thought that of him, as well, I had gotten to know, more of, who he really was, underneath the façade, of that. He never yelled, or ever raised his hand to me. There was no domestic abuse, in our marriage; no threats, no violence. But, I do think, you have to question, whether a 'nice' guy, does things, to a, teenage, girl, to, emotionally, manipulate, and, physically, take advantage, of her, like those things, he did, to me, when I was a college freshman. Including, because of, my being married, to Jim, though, I saw, a side of him, that, perhaps, others--- especially, others, in our mutual, extended, family tree--- didn't ever see, or know was there. Just like it had been, between, my father, and I, as I grew up, being related, to someone, even, in a close way, doesn't mean, that, you, really, even know, that person. Who they, really, are.
Jim and I lived in a, tiny, rented, cottage, that was, actually, one side, of a duplex, with our landlady on the larger side, when we were in Norfolk. Right by the water, near the large Naval Air Station, there. One day, I had my head, leaned forward, over the bathroom sink, brushing my teeth, while Jim was sitting, close by, in the other room, waiting for me, to finish, getting ready, for us, to go somewhere. I started hearing a loud noise, and, I asked Jim, what it was. He told me that it was "nothing." I kept on, hearing it, though. It sounded like someone fighting. It seemed violent, too, based on the sounds I heard.
So, I asked Jim, about it, again, asking him, to look, and see, what was going on, with that, and he, again, said, that, it wasn't anything. That didn't make sense, to me, based on, what I was hearing. Finally, I heard a, woman's, pained, scream, and, I threw my toothbrush down, right into the sink, and ran outside, where we lived, to see, what on Earth, was going on!
Directly across the street, from where we stayed, in full view, of Jim, at our place, was a large apartment building, with, almost every window, full of faces, now, watching, what was happening, right outside on the sidewalk. A young man, was, literally, kicking this woman, down the sidewalk, as she screamed, and cried, for help! Jim, was working as Shore Patrol, for the Navy, in Norfolk, and had, formerly, been both, a police officer, and, a security guard. But, he had done nothing; and, worse still, to me, he had TOLD ME, that it was "nothing."
I knew, now, that, he knew, exactly, what was happening, and he let it continue, doing, nothing, to stop it, or, to, at least, summon the police. That disgusted me. I ran over there, myself, and got, in between, the man, and woman, as he stood, over her, where she was down on the ground; ready, to kick her, hard, in her body, yet again. For, a very brief moment, it didn't seem, he would stop, even though I was now intervening, because what he was doing was, clearly, so wrong. But he did. Maybe, because a woman, out of all the people, watching that, had come to stop it. Even if he had hurt me, too, which he didn't, I still believe that, someone, needed, to put a stop, to that! Nobody else, had stepped up, or stepped in, in any way; not even my husband.
The police, never came, because, nobody called them! I was, repulsed, by this whole thing! I was, already, so disillusioned, with Jim, that his, allowing, this, to go on, for at least several minutes, and then, telling me, that, it was "nothing", when I kept asking him what I was hearing, that didn't sound right, to me, didn't lower, my opinion of him, much more, than it, already, had become. I asked him, afterward, what kind, of man, would, beat up, his own woman, like that, especially, out on, the public sidewalk, with all those onlookers. He, told me, that this, was common behavior, when sailors finally came back, to their home port, after months long deployments at sea; if, they knew, or simply thought, that their woman had not been faithful, to them, while they were away.
However, he admitted to me, that, many, of these men, were not faithful, to these women, when they had Shore Leave, at their Ports Of Call, during their cruise. He was describing this, to me, as being an acceptable double standard. I, wasn't, accepting, of it! He didn't seem disturbed, at all, by any of this, that he was describing, to me, causing me to feel that, his deepest, or truest, values, did not match, those, of a 'nice' man. I guess, I was still naïve, at that age. Or, maybe, idealistic. I, too, would find myself, compromising, my own values, and, looking the other way, about things, myself, in later years.
There finally came a point, that, neither one, of our hearts, was in, making our marriage succeed, anymore; for any reason. I think, we had always been extremely ambivalent, about our situation, up until then, as it was, and, for many reasons. Not the least of which, was, our each, having, close ties, to members of our, mutual, family tree, and, our being aware, of their wariness, with this relationship, that we were in, together.
Jim and I had even tried a marital separation, at one point. Only then, I was right back, in the same situation, I had grown up in (before I eloped, with him), with my family, which I simply couldn't bear! I. Hated. Even. Being. In. That. House. Or with them. At all. Ever. It was, almost always, acutely uncomfortable, for me!
I tried going back to school, to at least escape them, again, that way, but that still linked me to them, which drove me back to Jim, again, even though that was only marginally happier, for me, by that point. I have no idea, why Jim agreed, to get back together; but, he didn't hesitate. He knew, how much I hated, being with my family. I do think that, of the two, of us, he had really loved me, and deeply. Until he finally couldn't, anymore, because, not being loved back, in the way, that he had wanted, me, to, had left him, so resentful, toward me. While I didn't cruelly flaunt it, in his face, he, undoubtedly, always knew, from one thing, or another, with us, that, I was not, ever, in love, with him, romantically. I had never, really, gotten past, seeing him, as, my cousin. His bitterness, over the situation, eventually, eroded, his love; but it took him awhile.
Near the end, when we had left a theater after seeing a romantic movie, and were sitting in the parking lot in the car, he said something unlike anything he had ever said to me, before, or after, which was shocking, in that way, though his words did not surprise me. He said, to me, "I've felt such a hatred for you!" A man, in love, experiencing, that love, die, a slow death, because, it wasn't nurtured, by being reciprocated, would, come to feel, that way. If only, from, the disappointment, of that. I didn't have the heart, to say, to this man, who, finally, told me, to my face, what was going on, inside him, instead of, only running to complain, to his friends and family members, during our years together, that, I had, plenty, of reasons, to feel, that way, toward him, as well. I just, sat there, looking at him, receiving, his hatred, toward me. Understanding it, from his perspective. Although, it was equally, clear, to me, that he had, never managed, to see our relationship, from mine! I didn't need to tell him, that I harbored hatred, toward him, as well. Somewhere, inside him, I think he, must have, known that, even, from the night, that he virtually raped me. People, normally, don't, or can't, build love, on, such a start, as that. I was 18, when, he did that, to me. Just a teenage girl. He was 27.
We had lived in, Fresno, California, Greensboro, North Carolina, and Norfolk, Virginia, during our marriage; with Jim, always, chasing some, ultimately, temporary, job, and us, seeking a life, that, we would never find, together. While Jim, who had remained, in the Navy, as a Reservist, was now back on active duty, in Norfolk, temporarily, we began to, finally, share the same goal, for our relationship. But, that was: to help me get situated, and stabilized on my own, so that, we could finally get our divorce, from one another.
So, Norfolk, Virginia, was the last place, Jim and I, lived, while we were married. This was also the first time he had a steady job, since he had become involved in my life, when I was at college. However, it was a, temporary, active duty assignment, as Shore Patrol, for the Navy, and it would be ending, as well.
I would be gone, before that happened, though, to move into a brand new, very small, studio apartment, in Hickory, North Carolina. I was finally going out on my own, for the first time in my life. I wasn't sure how I would do, but, I still never doubted, that I would, absolutely, be better, on my own, than I had ever been, with, either, my family, or, with Jim.
I was now, 22 years old; and because of what he had done, in my life, and, to my life, I wasn't holding, a college diploma, in my hands, like I should have been, and, that, my friends were. I was holding, my (very first) divorce decree, instead.
While, I did end up, back, in Hickory, North Carolina, where, my family of origin, was, I didn't have to live under their roof, any more; where I had, almost always, felt so ill-at-ease, and unhappy. I had my own apartment, for the very first time in my life. I got a job, to start supporting myself, in a textile mill, learning to make elasticized yarns, which went into creating pantyhose. I did that, for a couple of years, until I joined the Air Force, hoping to find a career, for myself, instead of the, blue collar, shift, job, that I had, in the textile manufacturing plant.
But, that is another story, for another time.
Jim's legal Separation Agreement, that his attorney drew up, was in effect for a year, leading up to our divorce, because there was a legal requirement, for us to be separated, for that long, before the divorce could be granted. It, included, providing me with a year's worth of Spousal Support, which really helped, while, I was getting on my feet, in Hickory; job hunting there, then waiting for my first paychecks, to start coming in, after I was hired, and, finally, building up some, financial, security, for myself.
I felt, that was, a very, decent, way, for Jim, to end, something, with me, that, he had started, in, a very, indecent, way.
