Frum N' Flipping

It was too late. I was naked when I found out the truth. I clutched the towel around me and stared at her in horror. I was trapped. Only I could make such a stupid mistake. I missed all the clues- the sandy path that was longer than I remembered; the sign post for the Mikvah Keilim I didn't recall; the type of women inside- I should have known something was wrong when I saw the women. Nine of them, lined up in a row, one empty chair in the middle that they seemed to have saved for me, ready to interrogate me; the questions- how long I'd been married, how many times I'd been here before; the blessings that I wouldn't need to be back the next month. "I've been married six years and this is my fifth time at the Mikvah" one woman proudly told me. I tried to do the math in my head, while the other women congratulated her. The woman sitting behind the till wore a thick turban. She wasn't Simcha, the Mikvah attendant I'd come back here for. I'd

I owe a big apology to my readers. I disappeared, and it wasn't very nice of me. All I can say is that planning a wedding sure takes a lot of time. But at least I'm back now :-) And I missed you! One of the big differences with married life is the sudden secrecy that veils your life. There are two of you now, and the things that go on between you should remain between you, should be private, intimate, told to no one, shared with no one. That's right, that's good, that makes sense. And it really is wonderful, being together, sharing a life and a home and a future with someone you love, who loves you. It's so good you don't know how you survived so long on your own. It's like tasting heaven. It feels like a dream you don't ever want to wake up from. Yet still the secrecy bothers me. I wish I'd been more prepared for the halachic aspects of marriage, the physical aspects of marriage. Nobody told me, because nobody talks about it. Ten sessions wit