Time Traveling Housewife

[Esther Pinch]

Finding or making a spot for yourself in today’s mixed up world sure isn’t easy. It’s especially not easy when you grow up in a community that segregates itself from the outside world. Therefore it was no surprise that growing up I was a total psychological mess; with one message came from my family and friends teaching me to chaste and humble while another came from society telling me to “open my legs.”

Being a “door knob girl” (everyone got a turn) only made me feel like a loser. I had started a dressmaking business with my best friend since childhood and although my designs and talent are far superior to hers, she brought in most of the clients. Whereas I brought in most of the clients that skipped out on paying us. Sure they said they were my friends and promised to make good if I just did them this one favor but none of them ever did. Eventually I had to face the fact that I was a doormat when my partner left to get married.

Things changed when I moved back into my parent’s home. My mother imposed very simple rules on me; home by 8pm, no hanging around men or freaks as she called them, and I had to become religiously observant even if that meant I was faking it. Since my only other option was to become the lover of a 55 year old woman with Gonorrhea that permanently smells like pot; I was happy to take a clean bed and home cooked meals over a life of antibiotics. - Beggars can’t be choosers.

About a month into my parental imposed and supervised rehab I met a man at scripture study. He was absolutely nothing like any of the men within my sect’s community. My guy was very tall; towering over all the other men in the room and he was physically fit with giant biceps and chest that looked like it was made of steal. His appearance alone had me stammering and stuttering whenever I spoke but what cinched the deal was I watched him drive off on large and supped up vintage Harley Davidson motorcycle.

My heart was skipping beats because I would have never imagined a man that looked like battle forged gladiator would be at a bible study.  I was literally drooling and my thoughts were so obvious that I got smacked in the back of my head from father.  He said nothing to me and instead just walked past me with a subtle beckoning of his hand for me to follow.  Obviously I was only home in the physical sense while in my head I was still running around.

When I got home I risked speaking to my mother about the Roman warrior and for the first minute or so she rewarded me with a scowl.  “You need to get your life in order and letting the wind whistle between your legs won’t help you,” she said.  Of course my mom was right, I’m not a drug addict, alcoholic or criminal but I I did return home with my proverbial tail tucked between my legs. 

Financially I was in no position to take a stand against my parents with a selfish argument about being an adult.  It was their home and therefore their rules.  My bed was soft, the food was great and our community was offering me work.  It was in my best interests to keep my desires under control but the following week I was back at the scripture study and secretly staring at my beautiful man.

12 weeks passed and I ceased on every opportunity to be where the Gladiator was.  Unfortunately it wasn’t always easy because in my faith there tends to be a fair amount of segregation between the sexes.  Just the same everyone around me was starting to remark about how observant I was becoming.  I didn’t want to admit it but because being religiously religious was so important to my crush, I was starting to become pious too.

As it turns out his name was Roman.  The things he likes include body building, boxing, drag racing and classic cars. Rock and roll, comic books and bubble gum are how I would describe his personality. On the other hand his attitude could only be summed up as; won’t take shit from anyone and as I found out with my obvious flirting that that included me.  He had no interest in loose women.

Over time I had gone from fantasies of ripping his shirt off and having him physically take me to dreaming about having children with him.  I used to scream that my mother and those around me were fools and that I would never submit to man.  Instead I was going to do whatever I wanted and I proved it by being just as annoying as any man hell bent on self-destruction. 

My break with Roman finally came when he asked me if I would clean his garage. - I can’t imagine anything more vile than having to clean a mechanic’s backroom toilet. 

He and his partner made half-hearten attempts at keeping the customer’s bathroom clean.  On the other hand their bathroom made me gag from the stench of the urine and overflowing garbage can. But I held my breath and did the job without complaint. He inspected my work before rewarding me with $100 for my efforts and instruction to tell my father that he accepted his dinner invitation. 

My thoughts were the typical woman versus man about keeping things clean.  I wondered how they could do any business when everything except the repair bays were a disaster.  However I then looked around it occurred to me that this wasn’t a repair garage and they were doing something else instead.  Classic cars were what they handled and I understood that they didn’t normally deal with the public.

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I chose my clothes very carefully and must have beggared my mother half a dozen times about how I should behave.  She was cross at first because I had been raised to know these things but it became quickly obvious that I was infatuated with our coming guest so she began smirking and trying to be patient with me.  I swear I was like a teenager desperately hoping to impress a boy in hopes that he might ask me out. 

Well my dress was a simple A-line in baby blue with full sleeves and hung to my mid-calf.  I accessorized it with matching stockings and strapless ballet slippers.  Every instinct I had told me to go put on some serious vamp makeup but instead I only applied a light foundation.  As I looked in the mirror I saw my mother’s face and for an instant it scared me.  - Was I honestly becoming “one of them” just because of a man?

Roman came to the door and my father answered it while I was busy in the kitchen with my mother.  The 2 men talked for about an hour while we go everything ready for Friday evening dinner.  When the men finally entered the room my mom pointed at the candles and wine and told me to do the honors.  It had been a few years since I had done the ritual so I took a deep breath and somehow did a good job of it.

Sitting at the table I couldn’t take my eyes off of Roman.  He was gorgeous and each time he bent his arms I could see huge biceps.  My mind raced with images of him wrapping them around me and I was doing a lousy job hiding my thoughts.  Luckily my mom came to my rescue and not only did she keep the conversations flowing but she knew how to ask all the questions that I wanted to ask.

Roman had been a bad boy; not the kind that went to jail for drugs or armed robbery; instead his crime was having a good time.  He used to party on the beach, chase girls and in his own words he drank enough beer to bankrupt Budwiser. His life changed when his older cousin got drunk and killed himself in an illegal drag race; his funeral was a sealed casket.

So that’s what brought him here to the land of the boring people that devote their weekends to reading holy scriptures.  He didn’t want the life that he had but just the same he admitted to still loving drag racing, rock and roll and was content to only chase down the girl that he intended to marry.  Unfortunately my father had to chime in that he knew a matchmaker and as soon as Roman’s conversion was over he would see to it that he had a suitable wife.

When my father mentioned the matchmaker my heart skipped a joyful beat while my brain groaned in despair.   A matchmaker meant that I would be considered but because my father would be involved it meant that he would make sure I wasn’t on the list.  He had a high position within our community and I was a huge embarrassment to him and my family.  As the dinner continued my mind argued with my heart and it was winning.  

I was a loose woman, defiled by my own choice and unapologetic about all the things I had done.  Worse, I had often flaunted my behavior in their faces; making it clear that I was free to do whatever I wanted to do.   It was my life, my body and there was no stopping me.  

I finally started to feel remorse and not the kind of regret that comes from being broke with nowhere to go.  I was starting to see myself from their perspective; I was taught to avoid the insanity of the secular world but instead like a deranged lunatic I openly embraced it.   During dinner Roman was court, civil and very polite towards me.  If he had any interest at all in me, he certainly wasn’t showing it.

The meal ended and the men retired to the living room to continue talking. I wanted to go to my room to be alone and I almost did exactly that.   However I caught myself and went back into the kitchen to help my mother.  I couldn’t talk, instead I just kept my head down and did as I was told.  Bless good mothers because somehow my mom knew I was tormented and before we left the room she hugged me in a way that let me know she understood.

I, of course, did go to my room and closed the door behind me immediately after we were done.  Emotionally my attitude made absolutely no sense to me at all.  I think that in total I must have had less than 10 minutes of conversation with Roman.  We not only never dated but we barely spoke to each other.  

Everything the modern era told me was that relationships had to be based on things like dating, shared interests and a compatible sex life.  Based on that I think I could have dismissed my emotions as just infatuation and being horny.  However there was the annoying factor of my parent’s arranged marriage.  They literally only met once and talked for a total of 15 minutes before getting married within the month and 20 years later they’re still together.  Plus this thing we call love could be strongly seen in their relationship.

At some point I fell asleep and didn’t move again until the wee hours of the morning.  I was still in my dress and on top of the blankets so I got up to get undressed.  A mad impulse took me and I grabbed my purse and got out my sex toy.  Try as I might, I just couldn’t get into it.  Roman was on my mind and no amount of imagining him naked was going to arouse me.  At one point I abandoned thinking about him and filled my mind with all the perverse images of the things I had done; Nothing but guilt came of them.

I got up and looked in my vanity’s mirror and ended up asking myself what was I doing? I answered myself with a deep breath and I did something I hadn’t truly done in a very long time and that was pray.  It was short and simple, “I’m scared… please help.”