Why I want a husband

Written by Olivia Rochelle

Inspired by Why I Want A Wife by Judy Brady



I want a husband.

I always thought they were neat.

My friends have one (one for each of them, of course. They don’t share), but I don’t.

So, whenever we would talk about them, I would think, “yeah, I want one of those.”

Yeah, I want a husband. You know, one of those things that don’t cook or clean. The ones that knock you up and leave you. Yeah, that would be great. Can I have a husband? So I can devote my life to him, and sign my life away to complete submission. That is my ultimate dream.

To have him shush me whenever I’m “out of line”. To wear a veil over my face, and hide the body that God gave me “because it is a sin”. I want to be on the bottom, baby. Yeah, you can have have the top. Why would I want to be on top? To take control? No, not me honey. Never. That’s your role.

My role is now you. I care for you, and I love you deeply. I say it everyday. Ever thought about saying it back? I’ll have your sheets cleaned, your papers organized, and your clothes hanged. Aren’t I a good buy?

Take control of me. I’m your slave. Slap me around until I give in. But, of course, I would never tell my friends. I’ll keep hush-hush, baby; it’s our secret. I would never tell a lie. Not to you. Take my hand and marry me; you know I’ve been waitin’. Can’t pop that cherry, now, til’ I get that ring. You know, because poppin’ it before marriage would make me “contaminated waters” in your eyes. Oh, but of course, it’s ok if you do it. Husbands can be contaminated. I could have said “no”, but I said “yes, yes, yes”. Now look.

I want a husband, now. Don’t make me wait. I want that special husband who’ll provide for me when times get rough. I heard those McDonald’s gift cards are really popular these days. Share the covers with me at least once a week and, please, have your way with me. Take advantage of me while you have it, baby. This fruit wont be ripe forever. Oh, and it’s ok if you come first. Just roll on over and go to sleep. Forget about me. I know you must be tired. It’s ok if you painted the walls yellow when I wanted them to be painted blue. You didn’t tell me, but I guess I should have spoke up.


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