Conjugal

Prologue

October 7th, 2005

            Prince Charming.  The dictionary describes him as 'a suitor who fulfills the dreams of his beloved'.  He is known by many names: Mr. Right, 'the man of my dreams', etc, etc.  A year ago, I was certain that I had found him.  His name wasn't Prince Charming, it wasn't Mr. Right…Yet, he fit the description to the smallest detail. 

            Earlier in my life, I was one of those girls who dreams about a grand house, a well-paying job, a lovely husband, and the chance to have beautiful kids sometime in her life.  I was one of those who believed in all of those faux fairy tales; where dreams come true and true love is always found.  I believed in Prince Charming; that someday my own version of him would come and find me.

            All I have to say now, with the advantage of hindsight, is fuck Mr. Right.

            Dreams don't come true.

            I know.

            By now, I realize I've probably confused you to the depths of your mind.  To be brief, I meant my Mr. Right. 

            He turned into Mr. Totally-Wrong. 

            Oh, sure, in the beginning everything was like I wanted.  He gave me everything he thought I needed or wanted.  He was protective, sweet, and kind.  When I married him, I had everything I'd dreamed of: the homey house, the job that I enjoyed, and the lovely husband, plus the potential for beautiful children.  Everything was great; better than great.

            And then our marriage past the one-month point, and everything turned around.  The house was no longer homey; it was freakishly neat and lonely.  The not-so-lovely husband had forced me to stop my terrific job.  And the beautiful children?  Well, I'm pregnant, but he had forced out anything fun in my life.  All that's left of me is this shell of skin, harboring a baby that I wish did not come from that monster who calls himself my husband.  I wish that my car hadn't stalled that night; that I wouldn't have gotten into the car with him.

            I wish I hadn't fallen for him.

            Curious, isn't it, that when we find what we've always wanted in life, it turns out to be everything but what we want? 

            This letter, like all of the others, will get locked beneath the loose panel in the bedroom, never to see the light of day for a long time.  When it does, it will probably be the wife of his next-of-kin, trapped, just like me.  But I hope that she will find these when it's not too late; when she still has friends to support her and another place to go.  I say this because like father, like son. 

            Even if someone besides the intended audience comes to see these letters, please listen as I tell you my story.  Though it sounds like so many other stories from feuding spouses…it's not.  Let this serve as a lesson to people: Be careful what you wish for.  Anyway, before I get philosophical on you, I will tell you how I trapped myself in this marriage, starting with the day I met James.

            It must wait another day though.  I hear the front door opening.  James's voice calling my name…my owner calls.

            I used to be a prestigious name in the fame of wrestling, but now this is what I'm reduced to-a slave to my husband.  If you've ever known what it feels like to be reduced to nothing, to feel lost within your life…

            Welcome to my world.

                                                                                                   

Author's Note:  Well, a sufficiently crap-tastic ending!  A little note: the chapters leading up to October 7th, 2005 will be in third person.  I will have another story entry up when I begin those chapters ("Conjugal Bliss: Revisited") that consists of the letters the Diva writes about the events.  For example, the Diva will talk about the events that happened in the corresponding chapter of this story.  Don't know if that makes sense, but oh well!  I own everything in the story except everything associated with the WWE.  Please review!