Am I really an America housewife? Well, the truth is, not really. I do make money with a business I started more than a decade ago. It’s a tech business that still pays me through monthly subscriptions. There really isn’t any work required of me since I pay someone else to do the service and pocket the remainder of the money for myself.
But up until about two years ago, I was growing my business, bringing on new clients and spending the work day as a professional in a dress taking calls in my downtown office. But something happened to me, something very real and shocking. I told my husband I was going to focus my energy being a on star and get out of the tech world for good.
“Sounds great, Stella,” my husband said at the time. “You can do whatever your heart desires as long as you stay my queen. I’ll take care of whatever you need.”
But my business wasn’t a 9 to 5 job I could just quit. It was a business I had spent the last ten years building. There were open projects, needy clients, and we were listed high on the search engines. I could sell the business, but that seemed cumbersome and lengthy. Besides, tax issues also threatened me with a court date still pending. The only other option was to simply stop growing, stop answering the phone. I felt so wrong, like I was killing a perfectly mature business out of shear laziness, but it also felt so right, like I was finally being myself.
My business began like most do out of the need to make money. My first media job out of college came to an abrupt end one summer day, and I had bills to pay. That’s when I discovered my hidden talent for technology and gawked at how much people were willing to pay me for it. At the time, I figured it would be a short term solution until stardom found me yet again. Never did I imagine I’d be so successful with it, eventually having an office with employees and becoming well known as a tech geek in my region.
So the sexy Stella my husband married was known around town for her brain, not her good looks. My phone rang with questions about servers, Internet connections, domain registrations, and editing code. The feminist in me was proud to be smart and capable in such a male dominated industry, but something inside of me just kept screaming, “Let me out. Let me out. This really isn’t me.”
Our marriage has helped me relax into the woman I’ve always wanted to be minus the housewife part. The free time I’m not spending on my first business is supposed to be used to build the next one, my personality gig, yet I struggle making money and this frustrates me.
In the meantime, my husband and I have grown together with our love digging deeper. My security is not solely in myself as much as it is in my man now, which goes against the grain of my original plan. It’s the luxury so many women want, yet I have a hard time enjoying it. I’m scared I might get lost. My original dream was to have a fabulous career, and I have upgraded to a fabulous life instead.
I ask myself, What’s so important about having a career? Was it really just a shield to protect myself from the inevitable horrors of love? Was it genuinely about being of service to the world or really just about guaranteeing control in potentially devastating circumstances? Why do I not believe in my value as a woman, a goddess, a queen worthy of a man’s care? I don’t trust it, I think. It’s not something we see too much these days. It seems too fragile a basket to put all of my eggs in.
Today I watched my husband build a fence at the future RV resort. Every ten minutes or so, he’d look up and smile at me adoringly. It’s the expression from this morning when I woke up to his hand on my pussy and breath on my neck. “Morning, my queen.”
“You fell asleep on me last night,” I tease. Yesterday was the forth day in 2019 that we didn’t make love.
“Yeah, I was tired and very satisfied, I guess you could say from the day before,” his fingers dove in a little, examining the natural level of my sexual interest. “But I have your coffee going, and we can do the spray tan whenever you are ready.”
Our little sex project has been more successful than I originally imagined. The weekend scheduling problem that brought us to this solution has all but subsided. I’m not sure if the change is mainly him or me. He has been much more thoughtful about Saturday and Sunday plans, but I have also been more forgiving of his lapses. I genuinely feel more connected which has more to do with sex than all chitchatting. But we are talking more. It’s just all around a good thing.
And it feels like the most important work I do now, as crazy as that sounds. I’m part tech geek, part personality, part housewife, and a full-time whore. It’s the job of females before me, the original career of all womankind. It gives me beauty, relaxation, pleasure and purpose while creating very little stress and taking very little time.