In my last semester in college I woke up with a guy, he had sex with me. I was upset, but I was more scared. I had met him the night before. He had no problem, he let me know that regret was the wrong emotion, and I needed to accept it. My fears became real as I got pregnant. He agreed to marry me under a lot of conditions. He was pretty protective with me, and as far as he was concerned my destiny was sealed, housewife, mother, homemaker.
When my son was nine months old I became pregnant again. This time with a daughter. I had accepted my lot in life as a housewife and was reasonably happy. I met another woman and we became friends, and discovered we both had lesbian receptors. As with most women, we weren’t surprised at all.
Why I confessed to my husband is still debated. He says because he’s my ‘father’ figure. I think it’s because I told him everything, a housewife syndrome. He told me to cool it. I didn’t, it became ‘hot’. At a night when he imposed his authority over her, he ended becoming sexually dominant with her.
Like me, she got pregnant her first time. Either he was really potent, or we were really fertile. We claimed we are fertile, he claims to have big balls to make us pregnant. In any event, she got pregnant again playing catch up and I got pregnant with my third one. We fell into the sister housewife world, he didn’t want us working. Really, he’s into housewives, doesn’t like assertive women.
We refer to ourselves as sister wives, and we refer to him as our husband. The children have two mothers and a classical man father. We like being feminine with our daughters, expect our sons to be little men. Where we got the lesbian marker is a mystery, but what’s not a mystery is we both have it. Being lesbians is natural. Having a husband is the sixty four dollar question.
