Only A Housewife

I'm only a housewife.
I'm not sure I understand how I ended up becoming a sex slave to a tyrannical religious leader.
Becoming a housewife was what I was encouraged to aspire to by well meaning parents, family, friends, professionals, and, of course, less well meaning media.
I didn't so much “fall in love” with my husband as “fall in” with him. We met socially a few times, got drunk, fell into bed, had some furtive moments, then suddenly I was pregnant and we got married. In retrospect, I hardly knew the man. It seemed like a ritual which many of my girlfriends went through as well. It was a kind of Russian roulette, or musical chairs. We drank and hung out until we got pregnant. Then we got married to whomever provided the sperm and got shut indoors, cut off from any more hanging out, as nurturing responsibilities took over our lives. This included nurturing husbands who, for the most part, turned out to be big boys expecting to be fed and served as soon as they walked through the doors to our isolated “homes”.