Not everybody wants the same thing out of a marriage. For example, a young woman who was always poor when she was growing up might want a man with a very stable job and income so that she would be sure that she was taken care of the rest of her life. That may be more important to her than "love," common interests, shared values, or other features that most people would be looking for in a long term relationship.
An older wealthy man, on the other hand, may be looking for a woman that has beauty and poise, someone that he would be proud to be seen with at charity or business events. Again, that may be more important than love, common interests, shared values, etc.
Before I considered what I wanted in a husband, I, Amy Watkins, nee Bronson, had had exposure to a wide variety of people; and even more by the time that the quintessence of my story starts, when I was in my early thirties. This exposure was due to my upbringing, my schooling, and my initial jobs, and provided me with a good understanding of what marriage is for many different types of people.
During my almost unique upbringing I was poor with a bad biological father, rich with a detached stepfather, and middle class with a friendly compassionate stepfather. My mother had (and almost still has) a 10/10 body and 9/10 face, but she isn't, and never was, the sharpest tool in the shed. My mother's first marriage was for "love," yet when it ended she was convinced that the only good things that came out of it were my younger brother and me, and some life experiences. Her second marriage to an older wealthy man was for economic stability for her and her two kids but ended when she could no longer take not just a lack of sex, but a total lack of warmth. Her third marriage - which continues today - was based upon physical attraction and common interests and values even though she wasn't actually "in love."
During my schooling I matriculated at a basic, poor, elementary school with students and teachers of every race, color, and creed; a junior high and two years of high school that were private, high pressure, intellectual, and homogeneous; two years at a public high school and two more years of community college that were both relatively challenging and with decent diversity; two years at an Ivy League university; and two years getting a graduate degree in forensic psychology at George Washington University in Washington, D. C.
During my last two years of high school and community college I worked at a dental clinic for poor people on Saturdays, and for an expensive dentist with a wealthy clientele two afternoons a week. During my two years at an Ivy League university I worked (15 hours per week during the school year, 50 hours per week during the summer) for a professor who had a marriage counseling/psychology practice on the side with two other psychologists who weren't professors. While getting my graduate degree I worked with both law enforcement and the local court system on a part-time basis, specializing in domestic abuse situations.
Because I was blessed with a 9/10 athletic body and 8/10 face, and I worked hard so that I developed and took pride in what I believed was a perfect blend of empathy, friendliness, and toughness, I always had a good cadre of friends, and as many requests for dates as I could handle. My work experiences were particularly enlightening and caused me to be certain that the best marriages were between people of very similar intellectual abilities who had a physical attraction, two or three interests in common and two or three interests that were vastly different, and similar economic backgrounds. Despite this knowledge, however, I was primarily looking for someone that I would instantly "fall in love" with.
While I dated frequently from my last two years in high school through community college and the two universities that I attended, I never had a relationship that lasted more than a few months. I went out with all types of guys from all different backgrounds all the while with what I considered a very mature long term goal of seeing who might be a compatible life-long mate. I had no desire to have two trial runs (and the pain associated with them) like my mother did before she found someone "worth keeping."
When by the time that I had been out of graduate school two years, and still had no relationship that latest more than a couple of months, I determined that I was not the type to "fall madly in love." I reluctantly came to that conclusion after I had been exposed to many guys of all different types and backgrounds, many of whom were highly prized by other females, yet felt no "love." Talks with other females confirmed that that view of myself was accurate and that I was not "normal." Therefore I took an entirely pragmatic approach to finding a mate.
Leaning on my diverse life experiences, I started looking for someone that had intellectual abilities similar to mine, who I had a physical attraction to, with two or three interests in common and two or three interests that were different. Since I had had three very different economic backgrounds, I determined that a single similar economic background wasn't important.
While working in a state court system, and teaching a course in a local community college, as a hybrid between a clinical and forensic psychologist, I met Kevin Watkins. He was an attorney that handled civil litigation so that I had no specific work relationship with him, but we met at a courthouse during a lunch break when I was testifying in one case in one courtroom, and he was trying another case in another courtroom. Most of the tables in the courthouse cafeteria were filled up, and I was at a table by myself, so he asked if he could join me. Once I determined that he had no relationship to the case that I would be testifying in, I smiled and replied "certainly." We didn't talk business.
My first impression of Kevin was that he was handsome, on my level intellectually, and that we had many interests in common, and not in common. I gladly gave him my real cell phone number, and we parted with big smiles on our faces.
The details of our courtship add nothing of particular interest to this story except for my feelings at the time of Kevin's proposal. It was clear that he was really "into" me, more so that I was "into" him. However, I really did like him, he had every quality that I was looking for in a husband (minus the "love" thing that I had given up on), and I could see being as happy with him as my mother was with her third husband (who I really liked - including much more than my biological father and first stepfather). So I said "yes" when Kevin pulled out a ring.
The night that I said "yes" was the best sex session Kevin and I ever had, before or since (at least up until near the end of this story). Kevin usually was a considerate lover and our libidos were pretty much in sync, except for that night. It was like he was powered by rocket fuel, which lit me up too, and when he stuck a finger in my asshole just as he was fucking my brains out doggy style I came like a freight train, which caused my pc muscles to clamp on his cock like a vice, in turn causing him to go off like a roman candle. When we separated our almost comatose bodies and he ate me, I had another earth shattering orgasm and squirted on his face - the first and only time I ever squirted having sex with Kevin (at least until near the end of this story).
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I was happy married to Kevin. He continued to exhibit the qualities that I looked for in marriage material and the fact that I didn't have either overwhelming lust or "true love" (whatever that is) for him was inconsequential. Since he really wanted a family, and I was far from averse to the concept, and since he made enough money so that if I took a few years off to raise kids it wouldn't hurt us financially, we had Nancy two and a half years after we got married, and Brian another year after that, at which time I had my tubes tied.
From the time that I was seven months pregnant with Nancy until Brian was eighteen months old - and I was thirty one - I didn't work outside the home. However, I did keep in touch in my field not only by staying credentialed by taking and teaching on-line courses or course sessions, but also by tutoring some undergraduate and graduate students at home. I also really got into exercise and by the time that Brian was eighteen months old I was in the best overall physical condition in my life. I was lucky that I never suffered post-partum depression, my kids had no strange or persistent illnesses, and Kevin was as excellent a father as I thought that he would be.
I thoroughly enjoyed being a mother, and I found out that I was capable of what had to be "love" even though not the romantic kind. There was no doubt that the affection that I had for my children was beyond any feelings that I had ever had for any other human beings.
Especially since the kids were well adjusted and active, I decided to start working outside the home when Brian was about eighteen months old. I was no longer interested in interviewing criminals and testifying in court, however (except a few gigs testifying as an expert witness), so I got a part-time job teaching undergraduates in clinical and forensic psychology at a local University three days a week. The University had an excellent child care program so that both kids were happily preoccupied for the three hours each day that I was at school on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday each week; or on one of those days I could leave the kids with my or Kevin's parents who were always happy to care for them - if it was just for four or five hours a week of alone time. I was very happy.
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Life doesn't stay the same, however. Three things happened between the time that I started working outside the home three days a week and my thirty second birthday. I can't say for sure that the three things were connected, or unconnected, but regardless they combined together to change my life.
The first thing that happened was that after I stopped regularly nursing Brian while continuing my strenuous exercise routine, I started to get horny. Up until that time Kevin and I usually had sex three times a week, initiated by him about two thirds of the time. I started ramping up the sex initiated by me so that within a few months it was regularly four or even five times a week, which turned out to be as much as Kevin could handle, although he was pleased with the increased frequency. Because of my horniness the sex was better then than the normal sessions before my enhanced libido.
The second thing that happened was that Zach Williams became a new part-time instructor at the University that I taught at. Even though Zach taught business courses and I taught psychology our offices (which we each shared with another part time instructor) were just down the hall from each other's in the same building. While almost everyone at the University was friendly, Zach was perhaps the friendliest person there. He was a year younger than I was, also had two kids almost the same age as mine, and was from a similar background.
The first semester that Zach was there we encountered each other only on Wednesday, because the courses that he taught were on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. After the first semester his schedule somehow changed (I have my suspicions about why) so that it was the same as mine.
Both Zach and I usually had about fifty minutes of free time between our 9 a. m. and 11 a. m. classes, and we often spent it together, usually, but not always, with other instructors, graduate students helping out in classes, or even undergraduate students, chatting over a cup of coffee or a soft drink and pastry.
