Growing up I had visions of colorful bouquets and white dresses and - no, I would not wear a veil. Absolutely not! I would wear a mantilla on my wedding day. I say growing up, but it was really just for the first few years of my life that I can actually recall, that I had such fantasies. I thought I’d become famous, meet someone honest, hard working, and successful who would adore me and we’d marry and live the dream. A big house with a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a dog would complete our picture of domestic bliss…

By the time I reached puberty - and I was a late bloomer, so that didn’t occur until I was in my teens - such thoughts had been chased away by the realization that marriage wasn’t an express train to happiness and the cold hands that groped my backside and fondled my developing breasts reminded me, almost nightly, that men - even the married ones - were often just bastards looking for an opportunity to fuck a girl over.

Next Chapter: Take responsibility for your choices.