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About half way through my first semester in Georgia, I noticed an invitation on a bulletin board to join a weekly bible study group on campus. My innocuous decision to attend affected my life for decades.
I found the studies supportive and inspiring. One of the co-leaders was a graduate student named Matthew Fessler. Deeply religious and the son of a Baptist minister, nonetheless he was studying to be an architect rather than studying for a degree in theology. After I attended a dozen bible study meetings and having taken particular note of each other, we began having private religious discussions after the group sessions ended.
Both of us had abhorrent attitudes toward sex that were easiest to hide behind religious doctrines. I believe his issues started with growing up hearing the fire and brimstone sermons of his father because he often mentioned them. His attitude developed into a deep-rooted belief that sex for any purpose but procreation was a sin. He railed against sexual immorality plaguing marriages and society as a whole. His angst struck a chord with me.
I accepted an offer to have coffee with him on a weekend. The meet-up became a regular ‘date’ where our discussions involved personal topics. Our relationship developed intellectually, devoid of any romance or signs of affection. We started attending cultural events together, visiting art galleries and museums, and then church almost every week. He came to watch me compete at a track meet one time but didn’t like the secular atmosphere in the audience. He didn’t denounce my participation because he believed I wasn’t seeking personal attention.
When my graduation drew near, we began talking about continuing our relationship on a permanent basis. Without a traditional proposal by him, we agreed to marry after Matthew graduated one semester after I did. Only after we decided to marry did he kiss me. Although we did kiss and embrace hello and goodbye thereafter, our kisses were never passionate and our embraces nothing more than timid hugs. I felt my life would be safe with him.
Matthew met my parents at my commencement and dined with us that evening. At the meal, he pitched his moral attitudes before asking for my father’s blessing. We informed my parents of our desires to have Matthew’s father perform our nuptials at his church. We also wanted to serve punch and hors d’oeuvres in the church basement in lieu of any lavish reception.
Back home in North Carolina, I worked a few months in retail while waiting to learn where Matthew’s career would take us. Communications with Matthew by letters and phone calls were more like status reports than endearments to his betrothed. Intelligent and hardworking, he was at the top of his class. As such, an architectural firm in Atlanta recruited him before he graduated. By the time he finished his thesis, he had rented a small apartment for us and moved himself there from his dorm.
We were married just ten days later. Because he started his job the following Monday, we didn’t go on a honeymoon. We didn’t even consummate our marriage until Sunday night. Our first sex act was without much that would be considered foreplay, very brief when he orgasmed before I could, and somewhat painful but not what I was led to expect.
I wasn’t disappointed in the outcome; rather, I felt satisfied that I performed my wifely duty without a hitch. Even though we were in our mid-twenties, we seldom had sex more than once or twice a week, and then only at night in a dark bedroom. It wasn’t my place to initiate sex and Matthew had a low sex-drive. I managed to orgasm most times we had intercourse although they were never enthralling and sometimes just excited shivers. I accepted our sex-life as wholesome and adequate.
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We were comfortable financially from the start. His salary more than covered our modest lifestyle and simple tastes. I again worked in retail with my entire salary going into savings. Matthew received two healthy raises and a promotion with another salary bump in his third year. We were able to put twenty-five percent down on a modest three-bedroom home before our fourth anniversary. His career continued to advance as his company promoted him to lead architect and then project manager and finally director.
In the beginning, my work experiences weren’t as pleasant as my husband’s were. Working behind the cosmetics counter of a major department store, I seemed to attract an extra share of customers. From the advice they sought from me, women presumably thought I must be knowledgeable about all products although I personally only used lip gloss.
Male customers flirted and if I helped them in any way, they left lavish compliment cards. Management noticed. Declaring my business administration degree an important factor, they promoted me to floor supervisor after only one year over several co-workers with seniority. That created a rift with those under me.
A senior manager started paying undue attention to me, visiting and talking to me almost daily. He would touch me as he talked; his hand on my arm or my back wasn’t sexual but too familiar for my liking. When he invited me to dinner to discuss another position for me in his office, I declined instantly.