About To Walk Down The Isle

I am disgusted with myself. As a self supporting professional I don't need money, or g*fts. He gave me a Rolex. He pays, every time. Doors being opened, walking me like a dog on a leash. I got roped into hostessing for him at a party at his house. A lady came looking for me because the guest bath ran out of TP. I don't know where he keeps the TP.

I can afford my house. I like my house. I don't want a bigger house. I did not appreciate him telling me that I could redecorate and make his house mine. And worse than that being told he was the man of the house, I am going to be the lady of the house. I got 'taken' across the back of the couch. I am not a dog, being mounted like a dog was demeaning. Having him slap his handkerchief up my crotch to keep me from leaking until I had a chance to clean up topped off his couch surprise.

I can't give up my professional name, take years out of my career to satisfy his need for a family, recenter my life to his kitchen, make the bed before showering. But like a teenager I have a need to please, make Daddy happy. I will have my IUD removed, put it in a bottle, give it to him as my wedding g*ft. It's not Rolex, he gets my womb instead.