A Female-Led Marriage

Chapter OneWho Am I? As you may have guessed, Gillian Ormendroyd is not my given name and is simply a pseudonym to protect myself and those I love from the usual sneers and jibes likely to come their way were I to place my real identity to the fore. These “usual sneers and jibes”, it must be said, emanating from those poor souls who will always seek the comfort of the herd while feeling only resentment for those not content to follow all the norms as stipulated by the moral ground-swell holding sway at any given time. That such norms are talked up by those in power as the desired status quo for all who wish to be a useful and “aspirational” addition to the “big society” - even as those espousing the blanket normality that makes a people so much easier to govern and more willing to buy goods and services follow a more individual path of their own - should not surprise us. For if a sometimes cold and ruthless pragmatism is the defining component of both the politician, the oligarch, and the self-interested of any colour or creed, then hypocrisy is seldom very far from the decision-making process likely to enrich them further in either power or income. But enough of that. Suffice it to say, that if you feel there is a lack of personal disclosure regarding your author in this foreword, you need only read the above to know the reason why. The less information that might lead someone to my identity, the better I like it. And the safer I feel. What I will divulge is that I am English by birth and have seen enough of my fellow countrymen and - it has to be confessed - women to know that the Gallic passion for revolution and the barricades is not a constant in our natures. Tame concession to either monarchy or president is not intrinsic to the French way but seems endemic on our island, with its one civil-war and various swiftly quashed rebellions supplying eloquent testimony on the subject of the English desire for a quiet, sometimes bovine, life. And yet, take a step outside the norm of what is considered acceptable English behaviour (I deliberately exclude the rest of the Union from my generalizing) and the vengeful wrath of a Robespierre or Danton will seem as nothing to the opprobrium and misery brought down upon one’s head by that aforementioned herd and those hypocrites who fuel their base prejudice from no more pressing a moral imperative than venal self-advancement. Wrath fetched down upon an undeserving head simply because of that head’s harmless and private wish to live life in a way of its own desire and choosing. Though, in this case it must be said, it is a life of my choosing and mine alone. My husband would, I am certain, hold a completely conflicting view upon the subject. And certainly my description of it as “harmless”. Yet for those of you about to read this part autobiographical and part fictional recreation (you must work out which is which for yourselves) of how I took control of the triad – my life, my marriage, and my husband himself – I must state, and with an emphasis that will no doubt make me seem as hypocritical as those described above, my love for my husband and the joy he provides me remains as bright and undimmed as it did when we first met and I cannot imagine my feeling in his regard ever changing. It is as well to state this now as the pages you are about to flick through with varying degrees of distaste, desire and, yes, boredom perhaps, are unlikely to make you take any other part on the subject than that of my long-suffering and, now, thoroughly obedient, partner. So be it. I would never deny that the choices I have insisted upon if we are to stay together are more favourable to me than my husband. How could I? But I also believe that he is a better man for having conceded to his weakness and allowed me to take the reins both socially, financially and sexually. You will have guessed, and if you haven’t I confess, that this is no more than an attempt to pre-empt opprobrium on your parts and I am more than aware you will have your own views on the levels of my ruthlessness, desire to control, and sheer s****l perversity. But there it is, I can say no more on the subject in my own defence and must now let you judge for yourselves.