Regarding the issue of the young man (men) that were abducted in Missouri. A lot of people are wondering why he didn't make a phone call or any other attempt to escape. Here's the answer: He was terrorized. Terrorized. The first time I ever heard that word was when I was thirteen years old. I was home alone and the phone rang. I answered and the callers first words to me (which I will never forget) were "I have fixed your phone so that you cannot dial out even if you hang up. I am right behind your house and I am watching you. Do everything I say or me and my friends will come in and rape you." He went on for over an hour telling me to do various things: get all my parents jewelry and any liqueur and put it in a pillow case and place it outside my front door, all the while reminding me that he could see me. He told me to take off all my clothes and place them outside. He told me to get a turkey baster, I told him I didn't know what that was, he got very angry and told me to find anything to put in my vagina. I was in utter hysterics but made a very bold move to escape thru our sliding glass doors on the side of my house and run, with a towel wrapped around my naked body, to my best friends house four houses away. Hysterical and crying I explained to her mother what had happened to me. My best friends brothers were there (more humiliation) and she promptly sent them away and called the police and said "I need the police, my neighbor's daughter has been Terrorized, I will never, ever forget that horrifying afternoon but more than that I will never EVER forget my best friends dear mother for taking what happened to me so seriously and taking such good care of me afterwards. Thank you, Mrs.RL. May you rest in peace always.
My point-- I was terrorized for an hour over the phone at 13. These young boys were face to face with their Monster for days and years in one case and they were 11. Of course they did what they were told. Of course they did.
The police said that they had had several incidences reported (mostly by elderly people) and that, in fact, my phone was never tampered with as the criminal had said. Two weeks later I got the same call. I hung up and dialed the police. He never called again.
That's my story and I hope it makes any doubters out there look at this Missouri story differently. And thank you Dawn, for letting me finally tell my story.
Sorry for the long ass confession, girls! Please forgive -- I need to get that off my soul.
To the man who broke my heart,
Sometimes I wish I never would have met you.
I can't even begin to describe the pain I felt when you left me. You were my first everything.
You left me over the phone.
You knew everything I was going through, and you were the only thing I had left in my life.
Yet, you still left. You began your new life with someone else.
It's been 4 years.
I went through a dozen people and never found someone quite like you.
You never did give me a reason. You called me early that morning,
said some hurtful things, we both cried.
I said "Can you feel that?"
You said "what"
I said "it's my heart. And it's broken."
You hung up on me. And that was it.
You screwed me up. I failed all of my classes that semester. I was depressed. I gave myself an eating disorder because I thought I wasn't good enough for you. I would have done anything to have you back. All I wanted to know was why. I still don't know why. And now, that's okay. We will never understand why people do what they do to us. But I'm over you. I'm happy for you and your wife and the life you're
creating for yourself. I still want what we had - but with someone else. I deserve to be happy, too. And, I think I found him.
You have left "fingerprint" bruises on me for the last time. You are no
longer allowed to hit, push, smack, choke, or pull my hair anymore. I have
forgiven you....over and over again. Not this time. By the time you come
home from work, my stuff will be gone. I will be gone. I can and WILL do
much better than you. It's just too damn bad it took me this long to realize
it. So, in my final stand....the last hoorah of our relationship...I leave
these parting words for you....Go fuck yourself. I won. I'm leaving. And
soon, you will be a distant memory. Adios. Ciao. Goodbye.
I'm mad at you, I'm scared for us, and I'm trying to
be hopeful for me. You've admitted that you're an
alcoholic, but you aren't doing anything about it.
You've cried and told me that you can't lose me, but
that was only after, an hour before that, you told me
you weren't sure if you could choose between drinking
and me. We've only been together 2 years. Is it
supposed to be this hard? I love you with all of my
heart and soul. You are my match-your Southern-ness
balances out my uptight Northern-ness. And I know you
think you need more time to think about this, but you
don't-you need to ACT. Because if you don't, you will
be single again. And so will I. And I'm petrified. And
if that's going to happen, I really need to lose this
weight that I've put on since we've been together. I'm
not ready to be single again. I don't want to be
single again. I am planning on spending the rest of my
life with you!! I don't want to be with anyone else.
But if this is not going to change, if you are not
going to confront your drinking, than I need to leave,
because I refuse to wake up in 2 or 5 or 10 or 20
years and regret that I didn't get out while I was
still young. Shit, what do I do??
Dear Husband -
After our son was born and I was nursing, I know we decided to take turns on whom would get up and get the baby and change his diaper, but I have to confess, I did not keep my end of the deal! You sleep so soundly that I had to nudge you awake for you to go get him - so I quickly figured out that you had no idea if it was your turn, so.... I stopped taking mine and I told you it was your turn every time. Since our son is nine now, I am only thinking about this cause I am doing the same thing with the turn taking on letting the puppy out....
Here goes ( I had to get this off my chest )
I think you're very unattractive and that since you're 3000 miles away from
your husband, that he must be very lonely. I took it upon myself to sleep
with him last night and I wish I could tell you how incredible it was. I
wish I could tell my husband to do what your husband does to me.
To the one who still continues to haunt my dreams:
Oh! Last night was wonderful. I was lost in my dream of you. Your arms held me so close, so warm, so safe.. so wonderful… I was 16 again. I was in love again. Nothing could go wrong. It was us against the world and we would always prevail. We played this game of hide and seek and I always found you. You, with that rueful grin. You, so captivating. Your eyes, your beautiful smile that set my heart leaping. I wake up, still intoxicated with dreams of you. I sit here, still in that aftershock of a love that I thought had died. Why do you continue to be in my thoughts, in my dreams. Why is it the thought of you sends me singing, to write poetry, to dance. Why can’t I feel this way about my husband? Why couldn’t you wait for me? Why did you have to go off and get married? Why did you have an affair and have two kids with your mistress? Why did you tarnish all our promises? All our dreams? Why not us? Why not me? What could I have done? Tears raining down my face as I remembered our goodbye. Regret comes over me when I remember the song you wrote for me. Why did you give me up? Why can’t I just let go. We live different lives now. Your bitter and jaded, I’m not as brilliant as you found me. Different adventures await us. Oh.. but those wonderful dreams of you and I.. I could be forever lost there.
With a crushed heart trying to break free..
Your Little One.
Despite the fact that you seem to magically never remember anything I
say--especially when it is important, I love you more than anything in
this world. I believe you when you say that you genuinely try to
listen to me and want to make me happy. You already do at least 95%
of the time. I know I can be a raging lunatic at times, especially
with the stress of school, and I appreciate that you let me off the
hook most of the time. You are wonderful, caring, loving and
forgiving. I can't wait to have your children.
You really get me. No matter my mood, no matter what you are doing or how you are feeling you let me know both in words and in actions that you love me and care about how I feel. No one has ever made me feel as sexy or as comfortable as you do and I love that I can just 'be me' around you. You've been my best friend for 9 years and my husband for 4, and I look forward to spending the rest of my life with you. You are a great man and a great person and I am so thankful to share my life with you.
Loving you always
I don't care how many times you've seen random porno chicks arch their backs
in unbridaled onscreen ecstasy during anal penetration; I will NEVER EVER
enjoy it when you shove your finger in my butthole during sex (or oral sex,
or fingering, or any other intimate activity). In fact, I can pretty much
guarantee that I will react in the exact same way I do every single time you
try it. First, I will shove your hand away. Then I will say, "Ugggh, what
are you doing, you KNOW I hate that!" Then I will shudder in disgust. Then I
will lay there, dejected and deflated, like a dead fish, while you look
flustered and apologetic and try hopelessly to get me turned on again. Why
won't you learn? I hate it. It doesn't make me feel good. It makes me feel
gross and dirty and violated and unsexy and angry. STOP IT!
Maybe next time I should just get up and walk away instead of lying there
frustrated while you try your best to recover? Maybe I should shove
something up YOUR butt? Ha ha! But in reality I know that I would never do
that. Because I would never push you to engage in a sexual act that I knew
made you feel gross or uncomfortable. Why can't you offer me the same
respect and courtesy? You're a considerate, responsive lover in every other
way. Please, please, please for the love of all that is sexy and good, keep
your f-ing fingers out of my ass. No means no.
You get up early in the a.m. You take a leisurely shower, get your Starbucks coffee and have a little more than an hour each day to listen to the kind of music you want during your commute. You wear expensive clothes because you work for a pretentious firm. You eat out at nice restaurants every day. When you get home, you sit in front of the tv. When you are finished eating, you leave the room to watch more tv. Then when I ask you to put our child to bed, you insist he have his pj’s on and teeth brushed. You get him all wound up, leave him in the bed and expect him to fall asleep. You go to bed when YOU want.
Here’s what happens during my day… You make so much noise that you wake up our child. And then I’m forced to deal with an overtired, crabby child for the remainder of the day. He is fed, and brought to school. I’m the one who volunteers at school, takes him to dr appts, schedules and hosts playdates, remembers birthdays, helps him through workbook pages, (am teaching him to read), sends thank-you notes, cleans the house, makes the meals, and pays the bills and stays in contact with your family members and friends. I’m the one who scrubs your shit off of the underside of the toilet. I’m the one who cleans the pee off of the floor when you and your son miss the toilet. I clean your pubes out of the shower drain and your whiskers out of the sink. I make sure vitamins are taken, the dog is fed/walked and the other pets are taken care of. I could go on and on regarding this.
And at night while you sit on the couch, I make your dinner and dessert. I also have to entertain a child while I do so, as well as when we finish eating and I have to clean the kitchen. At night, when our son can’t sleep, it is me who reads him a story and snuggles with him. When you go to bed, I still have to let the dog out/walk her, make sure doors are locked, lights turned off and garage door closed. (Because even if you were the last one downstairs, and the last in the garage, you NEVER do these things.) I make sure our son has clean clothes for the next day and his homework/book bag is where its supposed to be. I get to bed about two hours later than you do. And half the time after a few hours, I end up in the guest bedroom because you are snoring so loud or you’ve got such bad gas that the disgusting noises and smell fill the room and I’m close to gagging. On those nights, I end up getting MAYBE 5-6 hours of sleep.
I do all of these things without complaint. I do them happily because you and our child are my family. I like taking care of my family.
But it is NOT cool when I’ve been having migraines for you to say I’m not keeping up MY end of the bargain. WTF? You aren’t having to do anything extra. It is NOT cool when you complain about me leaving our bed in the middle of the night just so I can at least get 5 hours of sleep. And it is NOT cool for you to now tell me I need to quit blogging – that its taking up too much of my time…
I don’t go to lunch with girlfriends. I rarely buy clothes – when I do its from Target. I rarely go out with friends or even talk to them on the phone. Hell, I don’t even get haircuts all that often and when I do, I go to Great Clips. I spend all of my time (except for that 2.5 hours a day) with our son. I don’t have any hobbies other than blogging. And its free. What’s the big deal if I spend 30 minutes here and there reading a blog or composing a post. Especially when the rest of my time alone is spent cleaning or running errands?
You told me today that you’ve been “supportive” of my blogging but now its getting “out of hand”. You pointed to the dirty dishes in the sink as evidence. Dishes YOU made dirty. To you, “supportive” means not bitching about my hobby. And if I do it while our son is at his preschool what’s the big deal. Oh yeah, I know… Because today you were trying to find a hammer. And I didn’t magically step in with one. You had to look through your shit. And later, you were looking for some sort of cable for the tv. Again, not my department. You have cables, tools and whatnot all over the house… But of course, you expect to snap your fingers and for me happily appear with whatever you want. Don’t get pissy at me that you can’t find something. Maybe if you spent more time opening cabinents, you’d know where things are. So of course, you spent the rest of your day on the couch while I had to look for shit and then reorganize stuff to YOUR liking. And then you give me a “high five” when I told you I was done. And you wonder why I’m quiet and distant?
And you criticize the way I interact with our son. You also get on my case if I raise my voice to him. You can’t even spend 25 minutes with him before you start bitching about how he gets on your nerves. How do you think I feel when I’ve been spending practically every waking hour of the day with him… Trying to entertain him and keep him busy and feeling loved while I clean the house – because YOU expect all of this from me.
I don’t get paid. I don’t get thanked. I don’t get much of anything. I feel like a slave. Especially now since you’ve told me I have to quit blogging because I’m not pulling my weight… I will tell you right now, even if I have to sneak away to blog, I will do it. Its my only creative outlet. It’s the only thing right now feeding my soul. It’s the one place I get a kind word and a feeling of support. It a place where I feel I am valued… that people listen to what I have to say. I don’t get these things from you.