The Brothel – I do wonder what it was like – inside and outside. Did it smell like stale cigarettes and sex? Was it physically dirty as I imagine? Could you hear others in the rooms next door? What did the “John” just before you look like? And did he have a clueless wife waiting for him at home as well?
“Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you, but rejoice to the extent that you partake of Christ’s sufferings, that when His glory is revealed, you may also be glad with exceeding joy.” – 1 Peter 5: 12-13
It was around day 6 post-disclosure when I was able to uncover the entire truth about the prostitute. My gut just told me, once again, something was off.
I began to probe again, “Why her? Why that one?” questioning. He was trying to throw dirt in my eyes- attempting to divert, but once in a while I could just see through him in a way I never could before; it was as if God was granting a gift of transparency, to not accept another lie.
Finally, I’d had enough. I was not going to listen to another word until he told me what he was hiding. That’s when the bombshell hit. It wasn’t a random prostitute after all.
He tried to make me promise to never tell a soul. That is when I reminded him- I owed him nothing now – except the truth- which he owed me. It turns out, I was not prepared for that truth. Sometimes reality is actually worse than fiction. It was all an accident- orchestrated by the devil himself.
He began telling me the story. It started when a co-worker and he were in Houston, Texas. They were there on business, riding around when they proceeded to get lost. In the process of trying to re-orient where they were, the co-worker and my husband pulled into a parking lot where two women were standing outside, and began catcalling my man and his co-worker.
The men were, of course, intrigued. The women kept telling them “come inside, come inside”. It was a free-standing, unlabeled building in a shady part of Houston. Why not, right???
My husband continues the story by saying that they kept asking the women “What is this place?” but the women just kept telling them to come in and find out.
Once they entered, it appeared to be a strip club – topless women dancing on bars and walking about, but once they got inside and sat at a table, the men were circled – I imagine, like vultures.
One woman managed to pluck my husband. She rubbed his shoulders, caressed his lap, and whispered things in his ear that I will never know, nor do I want to know. They gave my husband and his friend lots of alcohol- injecting them with artificial confidence and peeling away hint of good judgment.
Once my husband became inebriated, the tone of sweet nothings in his ear quickly escalated. She enticed him with a set of closed doors. They were out of town- nobody would ever know. These women were strangers, it would be fantasy come true. He was told that for $200 dollars (this is in the early 2000’s, so it was not a small fee) he could have a private room, alone, with this woman.
Prostitution is illegal, so they never would directly say “You can bang me” or whatever disgusting line they use, (but I’m trying to remain clean on this blog), but it takes no genius to figure out that the $200 was not to “chat”.
My husband claimed to be drunk until the moment began. He said that once he got in the room, all he really wanted to do was run, but he couldn’t move. The prostitute took his $200 dollars and instructed him to take off his pants. He stood there, frozen. She repeated herself, (I’m sure because she had other Johns to attend), and so he followed her command.
I couldn’t believe what I heard. My life had now taken a surreal turn. This was unimaginable. I honestly did not even believe these places existed 14 years ago- (except in Nevada). I thought “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas” was a fictional movie only. I never imagined the possibility of this being a real existence, especially with my husband being a patron.
After this information was shared, there was no “undoing” it. What’s told, is told. What’s revealed cannot be unrevealed. I knew there was a reason this was coming out finally. God knew that not only did we deserve to know the truth about one another, and needed to face it, but He knew my husband had to be exposed in order for healing to occur, but oh my, was this excruciatingly painful. I was dumbstruck, my soul tarnished in a way that it would never be the same.
My husband carried this secret for almost our entire marriage, a mountain between us for over a decade.