The “Good Girl”

As summer approached, I started dreaming of seeing Luke.  We started to talk about him coming to visit me or me going to visit him.  He offered to pay my gas money but the thought of being so close to my Family of Origin (FOO) scared me too much to take him up on it.  I dreaded the possibility of them driving by his house and seeing my car parked there.

I knew that if Luke wanted to see me, he’d have to come to me.  It was in thinking about him visiting that this journal entry came about:

And I just figured something out.  Maybe a large part of this comes from the fact that I don’t want to be the “good girl” anymore.  I’ve spent my life trying to always do what was right so I didn’t get in trouble.  Even as the “rebellious” daughter, I never broke curfew, I never back-talked to Mom to her face, I never did anything outright that would get me in trouble.  I rebelled silently and with attitude if not actions.  But I was told all the time how I was the rebel, how I didn’t obey, how I pushed.  Mom was constantly mad at me and withdrawing affection.

When I got married, I settled down.  I’ve spent the last nearly two decades being the good wife, the good mother, the good daughter.  I never stepped out of line and I caught hell for it anyway.

I want to be bad.  I want to do all the things I’ve made myself not do all these years.  I want to have fun.  I want to not have any responsibilities.  This summer Bubba will have all the responsibility of parenting and I’ll have hardly any!  I am truly going to be free this summer.  I’ll be in my house alone.  I can really be single and free and do what I want.  The thought of it alone is like a potent drug.  I haven’t been without responsibility in 20 years.  There hasn’t been a time in that span that I haven’t had someone to answer to.  There hasn’t been any time in that span that I’ve been able to just do something to make me happy without worrying about what it meant to those people around me whom I loved.

This summer, when the kids are with their dad, I’ll only answer to me.  Just thinking about it makes me want to laugh and jump for joy.  Sure, I’m going to miss them, but I plan to have some fun.

I know the dangers.  I’ve heard the warnings about women who get out of abusive marriages becoming promiscuous.  It isn’t like I want to sleep with half the Eastern Seaboard.  I just don’t want to be the good girl anymore.

I know I’ll be at war with myself over this because deep down, the “good girl” is exactly who I am, I think.  I’m at war with myself for even thinking these thoughts.

*I want to make love with Luke.  I believe sex outside of marriage is a sin.

*I believe sex outside of marriage is a sin.  The sex inside my marriage was an abomination.

*The sex inside my marriage was an abomination.  Can sex outside of marriage be so bad?

*I want to heal from this and I want to be with a man who cares about me, respects me, and possibly loves me.  Does he really need to love me?  I want to experience something I’ve never experienced before.

*God is bigger than all that.  He can heal me without me sleeping with someone.

That is only the first part of one of my thought processes.  That can rabbit trail and/or keep going for hours.  I circle around back to stuff too.

I’m at war with myself.  I don’t like it.  And maybe, just maybe, if I do share something like that with Luke, I could finally get it out of my mind and stop thinking about it!!!

Thinking about being with Luke was getting to be more and more explicit in my mind.  Whereas before I could only picture him with his shirt off and us snuggling up together, I was now thinking of him on an entirely new level.  I was dreaming of touching him and being touched by him.  To be perfectly honest, I think he’s one of the sexiest men I’ve ever known.  Just looking at his pictures on Facebook (and I spent entirely too much time looking at them and being thankful you can’t tell when someone is on your FB page) was enough to make me sigh happy little sighs.

I was still struggling with what I believed vs. what Fundy Land instilled in my head.  Was it a sin to sleep with Luke?

As time went on, I found I cared less and less about it being a sin and more and more about knowing that this was what I had to do as part of my healing.



  1. Interesting about women coming out of abusive marriages being promiscuous. Never heard about this or thought about this, but guess it makes sense in a way. I’ve been trying to share with my daughter about the difference between sex and love. I have a hard time with it too I know.

    • Having the freedom to do as I please after two decades of bondage….yeah, I can see how it happens. I think the only thing that kept me from becoming promiscuous was that I was on alert for it. Two people (who don’t know each other) told me about this so I’d been warned to be careful.

  2. Ohh… The good girl. When Sir and I were finally divorced, I was so done being the good girl. My version of rebellion… I cranked up hard rock music on my car stereo when I was alone. I put on a cute dress and walked Bourbon Street with an old boyfriend who knew I had never been allowed to do that when we were younger (one block of it, just to say we had done it, then spent an hour walking the river levee). I talked to my brother and a group of his friends while they drank beer for hours on Friday night and I had a Sprite. I wore earrings and necklaces that matched. I bought cute panties. Yeah, I was the good girl to such a pathetic extreme that these were my rebellions. Promiscuity was the farthest thing from my mind. I just wanted to laugh out loud because something was funny and I was happy at the same time. Somehow, those things had never been okay before. And finally, nobody could tell me no.

  3. I ought to say, I was living in New Orleans. Bourbon Street was not a road trip with a married ex boyfriend. It was like 7 miles from my grandparents’ house, I think we ate Taco Bell, and he texted his wife a pic of me in the Quarter because she knew how significant that was and she was happy for me too.

    • Yes, those things that we thought were huge then seem so normal now. It is amazing how removed from “normal” we become. I had my fair share of those small rebellions too. I wore shorts that were above my knees, shaved my legs, and put eyeliner on right after Bubba left town. For me, that was HUGE!

      I’m glad you got to have that fun experience on Bourbon Street! It sounds like a good time and you deserved it!

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