Quick update. I'm still in the firing-line, it seems. She's still hunting. And though she does not know my name or what I look like, she know everything else about me. Why? Well, I live with his loose lips. That's a fact. My life is seldom my own. So, kind readers, the story so far will logically include the following: My husband isn't interested in my reasoning, and there is no point therefore in anyone welcoming my marriage as any other kind of social activity. Unless I somehow meet someone who can improve my satisfaction I will continue in this, terminally unconvinced about the sources of his moral dominance and the world he belongs to. Yes, I am burning that bridge, also. I have to remain unapologetic about this, however, as it is an expression of some imaginative encounter I will not describe here.
I'm working myself around to listing all of this without innuendo.