So we are living in the homeless shelter.
Bruce is almost never around. I can’t say I am not relieved. I have too much to think about. I have 2 children under the age of 3, I am working full time at the dollar store, I am taking care of our apartment, I have to walk to and from work everyday because Bruce takes the car, I am up most nights breast feeding. I am exhausted, emotionally and physically. Bruce is working for a Christian radio station doing an on air segment about God knows what. He is a hypocrite.
He keeps ties with religion in order to bleed the kindness of strangers. One day, he comes home and announces that the Pastor from our church in Virginia is coming to visit. Here?…disbelief. Here?…shock Why?…annoyed.
He’ll be in in 2 days, He has already cleared it with the Lord’s Place. (We are not allowed outside visitors for security purposes, only residents are allowed on site) I had once confessed everything to the Pastor. I had asked for his time, stayed after services, sat in the pews and poured my heart out to him. I told him my real age, the Bruce was addicted to all forms of porn, that I wasn’t sure if I believed in God, In fact, I was positive I didn’t. I told him about my dancing.
He listened, told me to be more adventurous in the bedroom and that my husband would be happy and faithful. I couldn’t have been more adventurous if I tried.
So the Pastor came for a visit. The first day was uneventful. Bruce was there doting like a dutiful husband, all 6’1 of his fake self. Offering to look after the kids if I wanted to go lie down…What? since when?. Day two the Pastor took us out for lunch. We hadn’t been out to eat in forever and I have to admit it was pretty nice. I think we only went to a Chili’s but it tasted heavenly. Day 3 Bruce didn’t come home from work. I got a call from the volunteer that he didn’t pick up the kids so I had to leave work early. With no way to reach him and no excuse for his behavior I advised the pastor of the situation.
At first he was very sympathetic, listening to me, sitting with me while I cried. I remember Laura waking and needing to be fed. I excused myself to go get her, brought her into the little living area, sat on the couch, positioned the blanket over my shoulder as one does when they are discreetly breast feeding and looking up to see the Pastor with a boner.
My eyes were wide with disbelief and he began rambling about how he couldn’t get me out of his head since I had first confessed that I was a dancer, that he was lonely, that his wife was older and disinterested in sex, and could he just touch my breasts, that it would be okay. I fucking freaked. Full on freaked the fuck out.
I have never been so disgusted or angry in my entire life. I jumped up, literally put Laura down on the couch and began screaming, yelling and hitting him like a banshee.
I threw him out, listening to him apologize over and over, quoting verses from the bible the entire time asking for strength and forgiveness for himself. Even in that moment I was aware he wasn’t asking for MY forgiveness, he was concerned about how his GOD saw him.
I hated the very idea of GOD from that point forward. I still think it is more important to be accountable to the PEOPLE you wrong and not rely on some imaginary force to keep you in check. That is why I have so much respect for the law. It’s tangible. It is a set of real time consequences for one’s actions. I called my mother to tell her what happened. She wasn’t surprised. She had her own problems with the church when she divorced my stepfather.
It wasn’t God she had issues with though, it was his fan club.