My Husband, My Best FriendMarried. 13 years. Dated 7 prior. Spent every waking hour with him before and after marriage- as much as time allowed. Cried every day. Every night. The first year was so hard. He misunderstood. He didn't know I was having trouble being love unconditionally. He didn't know I felt too free. He didn't understand too much freedom was not good coming from such an oppressive household.
He did when I told him. When I could put it into words. When I understood. He worked with me. When I dropped the dinner on the floor, he didn't know I would run and cower in the corner out of fear. Fear that I would be hit, belittled, yelled at like a piece of garbage. He didn't do that to me. Instead, he sat next to me, told me accidents happen, and he would never hit me. He chose me. He wasn't forced to be with me. He lifted me up. He taught me how to clean that mess and so many others.
He put up with me when I nearly committed suicide. He stayed with me when we lost our second child. He supported me when I learned I was submissive. He accepted my male mentor to give me structure. He allowed me to be friends with another male.
He waited for me when I broke up with him so I could grow on my own. He waited for me to finish college. He waited for me to heal enough to enjoy our marriage.
He is amazing in every way. My best friend. I am submissive. I am his wife. Though I am an equal with him, I am submissive to my mentor and to God. This makes me happy.