Straight Female / 54
I Asked For An 'experience',
The trouble is that in the end men and women are far more different than I believed. I had the delusion that we shared goals, ideals, etc. Now I'm speaking of my husband. To him a 'house' is far more important. To me 'experiences' are far more important. In this sense I voted for a trip, he put the money into buying a house. Read here, he trapped me in a house.
Instead of travel we had children, three. Costs ate up all our spare cash. Once a year we went to see my parents, a 13 hour drive. Ballet lessons followed by gymnastic lessons followed by cheerleading, and so on. Oh, did we talk about college? None of our kids borrowed money, we paid for it all.
So what did I get out of it, a house with four bedrooms. A six year old car. And 'memories'.
I told him, did not ask, that I needed an 'experience'. After a lot of talking he agreed to take me to France, a week in Paris. And another week he planned. Paris was wonderful. His week a small cottage in Normandy. Nothing to do, but fuck. A fifty three year old lady getting the shit banged out of her day in and day out. There was Etienne, there was Stefan, there was Hugo. He, I'm talking about my husband now, sat outside with his coffee or his glass of wine and his 'book'. When the week was over we packed up to return home, to my house, to my grandkids, my kids, I was ready for a return to my routine.
I haven't asked my husband for another 'experience', I'd rather stay home and wait for my grandkids to come.
Instead of travel we had children, three. Costs ate up all our spare cash. Once a year we went to see my parents, a 13 hour drive. Ballet lessons followed by gymnastic lessons followed by cheerleading, and so on. Oh, did we talk about college? None of our kids borrowed money, we paid for it all.
So what did I get out of it, a house with four bedrooms. A six year old car. And 'memories'.
I told him, did not ask, that I needed an 'experience'. After a lot of talking he agreed to take me to France, a week in Paris. And another week he planned. Paris was wonderful. His week a small cottage in Normandy. Nothing to do, but fuck. A fifty three year old lady getting the shit banged out of her day in and day out. There was Etienne, there was Stefan, there was Hugo. He, I'm talking about my husband now, sat outside with his coffee or his glass of wine and his 'book'. When the week was over we packed up to return home, to my house, to my grandkids, my kids, I was ready for a return to my routine.
I haven't asked my husband for another 'experience', I'd rather stay home and wait for my grandkids to come.
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