miss you

Been 3 years today that you’re gone.. i hope & pray that you’re happy & free of any pain wherever you are.  RIP. i miss you…

Indian Moon Hair

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This hair company is dedicated to bringing beautiful Indian grown hair to the world. These beautiful soft locks are removed from Indian temples by an experienced team and hand selected, processed by us and is of  Top Quality Hair and customer satisfaction is a main mission.

most-beautiful-women-in-bollywood-3Exotic India is noted for such beautiful creations but nothing is more beautiful then It’s people, With smooth Tan skin and flowing dark locks the Indian women are of the most beautiful women in the world and You can have some of that beauty for own when you choose Indian Moon Hair.

 

1458420_694880033864167_1513646701_nHair details

1.100% Remy virgin human hair
2. Hair sourced from Indian temple shaved from the ladies head, one bundle comes from one donor
3. Tangle free, no short hair mixed, Strong wafting

Hair Grade

High Premium Quality (AAA)
Size availability
From 8” Inches (20cm) to 34” Inches (85cm)

559900_695384440480393_142462910_nTexture availability

Natural Straight / Wavy / Curly Tight curl, body wave, Deep wave, big curl, relaxed straight
Standard weight(in grams)
per piece 3.5 oz /100gm
10 pieces in 1 kilogram

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16INCHES 1PACK IS……………………$70 usd……………………..1kg…………………………$700 usd

18INCHES  1PACK IS……………………$90 usd…………………….1kg………………………..$900 usd

20INCHES 1PACK IS…………………..$110 usd……………………..1kg……………………….$1100 usd

24INCHES 1PACK IS…………………..$130 usd……………………..1kg………………………$1300 usd

28IMCHES 1PACK IS …………………….$150 usd…………………..1kg………………………..$1500 usd

30INCHES  1PACK IS……………………$170 usd……………………1kg……………………….$1700 usd

32INCHES 1PACK IS…………………….$180 usd……………………1kg…………………………$1800 usd

Contact Number…..+919892343981

Email:humanhairhouse2014@gmail.com
Mike Daniel Oliha

To make an order You can use PayPal or credit card

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Longer Sizes



Beyond the Screen (Glimpse ahead)

love 3I would never tell anyone to not love. You should never miss an opportunity to give of yourself and exchange feelings; of course there are instances that love is unhealthy or self destructive. There are cases when it is wise to have those walls to protect you from predators. It is sometimes in your best interest to know your limits and be aware of what you can accept and deal with and what you cant. You need to be mature enough to accept situations and responsibilities that only love can give you the strength to overcome.

We all have our own obstacles to jump while some will struggle to knock their walls down, I was busy building them, my open hearted, hold nothing back technique was not really suitable for today’s society. Not when 9 times out of 10 the men that chased me were only looking for what they could get out of me, I had a long list of abusers, users and losers to reference when asked “Why are you still single?”

Hey but this is not about me learning what I wanted, even when all the past stories I have written were all about what I knew I didn’t want. At this time in my life I knew exactly what I wanted and there was no questionnaire, no list of your perfect man article in any magazine that could come close to what I wanted and needed in a relationship. Deep down inside I always knew but I had such low self esteem I never thought I deserved it or ever had a chance to catch that man’s eye.

I knew what I was, I have always known that I was not perfect, I wasn’t special. But see that is where I didn’t finish that thought, I wasn’t special to anyone but the man that will love me, I wasn’t beautiful inside and out to anyone but him, I wasn’t perfect for anyone accept for him. I just hadn’t met him yet. I never saw myself through loves eyes because I was never loved like that before. That was then and this is now and I am not going to cry about things I didn’t know in the past. No, this was supposed to be my “Happily ever after” well we will see, I am not about to give away the ending. Lol

Flash back to that first real boyfriend from Malaysia Ben, ah yes the sweet romance of childhood, the childhood love that never really had closer, never had reason or purpose other than to break my heart and leave me empty and wondering what if. Oh I tried to tell myself through the years that I am sure he has a wonderful wife and beautiful children and grandchildren by now. I wonder if he ever regrets or even remember that young girl that he met in the dark Victory night club in a town in the middle of nowhere. Or does he stay awake at night wondering…. What I am doing?
I have lived my life and experienced lifetimes of love, heart ache and success. I have remade myself and my world many times over but I always find myself wondering, wondering so, and sense I find myself on social media so much I often check to see if his name ever shows up in my searches, I have even added a few people with his name but I had yet to find him.

I have always said that everything happens for a reason and really even this memory that I could never let go of, a love that was so innocent and so heart breaking that it fallowed me all these 28 years. Why would God subject me to a love so deep as a child and then tear it from me like I wasn’t meant to have it.
A few months ago I had gotten out of a really bad relationship and sense I was trying to go cold turkey on the whole man thing, angry with myself that I was tricked again into having feelings and angry with him for being HIM. Even my children referred to my ex-boyfriend from Ethiopia as the “One that shall not be named” because at just the mention of him I would burst into tears but that in its self is another story.  I turned to Facebook to vent and talk with friends when I got a message.” Can we talk?” my answer was “I don’t have time to chat, I use Facebook as business and networking”

I pretty much ignored everyone that tried to talk with me. I didn’t need anymore admirers,  but his begging and my emptiness was a mixture that led me to look at his profile, I seen living in Malaysia and that sparked my interest, not that I thought he was Malaysian because his picture told otherwise, tall and dark black skin, I assumed he was either African or Jamaican both groups of people had been trying extra hard to add me and talk. There was a few scams going around and I wondered if he was going to try to trick me. I had my own selfish reasons for accepting his friendship (I wanted to know if he could search for Ben)

Yep we each had our alternative motives but what is entertaining is the way the universe seems to always have it’s last say in the matter, here we were strangers, never really meant to meet, we had no friends in common and the very last thing I wanted was another African to rip my heart out. but the more we talked the more we seemed we were what each other needed in life, we were perfect matches, the way we believed the way we thought and felt, we had the same hang ups and desire to be overly open with our feelings. I wanted to hold back don’t get me wrong. I tried my hardest to be skeptical and distant “less is more, less is more” but it all just kind of flowed out, I was so happy talking with him, my face hurt from smiling and the look in his eyes when we talked it was like looking into the face of every Romance Hero I have ever seen in any movie.

I found myself glancing at the clock and I had lost the whole day, and the next day and the next…. I laughed at myself wondering when the bottom was going to fall out. Sooner or later this fast flame was going to burn out and I wasn’t going to be the one burned to ashes. I was determined to love but always keep in the back of my mind that it would never work, but everyday I was shown it could work.

First I decided that he only wanted to be in the US, I was nothing but a Green Card and he was just scamming me, but he kept trying to get me to move there, and a person can fake words and even lie to your face but you just can’t fake the excitement that glowed from him every time we saw each other on skype. I told myself there was no way we could be together but then I realized that unlike the other relationships on the internet that fell through this one I could actually sponsor. In fact every obstacle that faced us I could see a way out, rationalize and work around and Oh my God what a lot of obstacles there were.

He had a pretty rough life in his home country of Nigeria and when he was given an opportunity to go to Malaysia for school he jumped at it, but no one explained to him all the rules of going to school overseas, they only ask for the first semesters tuition but made him sign a contract for 2 years, no one told him that a student visa was just for school and that he wouldn’t be able to work. He found himself being Catholic in a Muslim country that despised Africans and Catholics. When he wasn’t able to pay for school his passport was held and he walked the streets as an illegal.

With the school holding his passport, no way to pay for food or a roof over his head, he was asked to join a group of other Nigerians that spend all day scamming over the internet, he confided in me that he didn’t want to he couldn’t stand the idea of hurting people, and that once you do get in a gang like that, there is no way out. He was living with a man that was charitable but also worried if he could trust him. He cleaned the man’s house and ran errands for him as payment for his stay, he pan handled for food and he prayed faithfully every Sunday all day for God to show him a way.

While we were getting to know each other and falling deeper and deeper in love the Malaysian Government were raiding peoples houses, knocking and searching door to door for illegals to either deport the ones that could pay their plane fair or detain aliens in make shift concentrations camps until family members could pay their way home. There had been cases where individual were jailed and forgotten. He was afraid to leave the apartment and often ran from a questioning officer “hey where are you going?…… why are you running man?”

We had a plan, for him to hold out until my tax returns, I would pay off my house and then sponsor for him to come here, marry him and we would live happily ever after. But the holding out part was what we didn’t have control of. One day pan handling he talked with a Muslim woman.. now let me stop and explain something, and I don’t judge, but in many Muslim cultures a woman is to never talk with a man, the girl not the man can be beaten and even killed if suspected that she is talking to a male because no one would know if they are intimate and it shows shame on the family.

So when I say what happens in our life no matter how well planned can and will go wrong, this moment is proof, the girl screamed “RAPE! He is trying to Rape me!” My sweet love was beaten by several men in the street and when he tried to run away he jumped off a landing and broke his foot. The men that beat him also tried to beat the man he was living with and working for, and in all of this they also took his laptop.

He was beaten so badly in the face that he couldn’t see and he was sure he would die in the street, when he tried to go the hospital no one would treat him because he had no ID, no passport and he couldn’t go back to where he had been staying….. He right now lies in a bed in a house of a friend that has now disappeared. No food for 3 days and no way to get any.

I sit back unable to do anything but watch all these dramas unfold like it was just a storybook… holding on to the hope that there will soon be a happy ending. I still can’t sponsor yet, the paperwork takes time, with no address to send to or fill in and I spent all my money on paying off this house so I could sponsor. I have no way to save him. I spent all these years looking for love, going through all forms of Hell with men that treated me like shit! And I finally find one that treats me like a queen, loves and thinks of me every moment and prays every day that he just be given the chance to show me his love.

For what? To have it taken from me, not even that. I was never given a chance to hold that love in my arms, no it is dangled before me teasing me to show “see this, see what you can’t have” Where is my happily ever after? Where is my reward for being so faithful and righteous?” and if I can’t have him than fine! God just save him! I would gladly live my life alone happy in the knowledge that he is free and healthy and living his life.

To be continued………2zxCQ-h3vN-1 (1)

I usually ask my audience if they would like to donate to my writing fund but this time I am asking you to donate to keep my fiance alive until I can get him here. there is no minimum amount that I ask… I feel it is the very least I can do, I just keep picturing him pan handling and wondered what I would have done in his place. well this is my version of pan handling…. God bless you




Beyond the Screen II (Hady)

I continued to talk with Sanjeev but I let myself stay separated emotionally from him. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, I wanted to stay rational and I kept reminding myself that it was not impossible for us to be together but it was unlikely. I had a lot of extra time on my hands, I didn’t think of sanjeev non-stop like I did before, classes had ended for the semester and I found myself chatting with others while I waited for his occasional mails and IM’s.

I am not saying that I was over him, or that it was that easy to move on, it wasn’t. I hated life, I hated the circumstance I was in and I often questioned God’s plan to keep me from love. I stopped praying…..

One of the conversations Sanjeev and I had towards the end was that he had seen a man that did horoscopes and he had mine cast, he said that he was concerned about me and if I was strong enough. He wanted me to start praying to a Hindu God (Lord Hanuman) the Monkey God. I had no idea who he was and I argued that I will not pray to a God other than my Christian God. He said that all Gods are the same God just different versions of the same man and I should get to know this one. I didn’t know who he was or what he was known for then. I never did pray to him, regardless of Sanjeevs pleading. But now I better know who Hanuman is and why people do pray to him. He is not just the God of strength physically but he also was one of the few God’s that was celibate. I should have known him better then.

I was not an internet whore and I seriously do not know how it happened that I would have so many internet love interests. I used yahoo like a screening process, getting to know men better without the stress of sexual pressure. I kept pictures of each man and the ones I didn’t like I deleted and the ones I did like I let myself get closer to. At one point I would show my mother pictures of them, tell her a short run down of where they were from and what they did. She would do her own research on where they were from and tell me later if she thought one was better than another.

Usually as soon as I found out one was without a job or that he had no desire to come to America to be with me I would let them go. I met a few men that I consider worth putting in this story. I can’t say I remember all of their names, many times they tell me nick names anyway or in my mind I thought of them as what they did (the architect, the artist, the dr) I tried to keep in mind that although I wanted a good man I needed one that I could actually fall in love with, not just financially take care of his family, but the fact that money was needed to be able to come to America it did tend to tip the scales a bit.

In my search to find this man I thought I needed I met a few men that I knew were not going to be able to come, I knew were not a good choice, they were too young, too poor, and they even knew they were out of their league. They were my friends, the ones I would tell my stories to. Beautifully handsome, wonderfully nice and caring, Hady was 24 and had no real job; he occasionally worked at his father’s shop repairing TVs. Hady was a great listener and I spent a long time never even knowing what he looked like, I knew he would have been a waste of time. Our first meeting after finding out his age and his occupation I made him promise me before letting him look at my cam “You have to promise you will not fall in love with me or ask for sex, we are only friends and we will only ever be friends, now promise me!” he laughed and almost joked that I was big headed to think that all men would fall in love with me.

I was not saying that because I thought I was so great. I swear to you I had no idea why so many men from other countries loved me so much, every time I opened my cam in chat it was always the same “OMG! you are the Moon, you are the Queen! Why are you not married? You are so beautiful!” I have to admit it was a boost to my ego, and I never felt like I was so wonderful or beautiful but they did, and I loved hearing it. After all I never really heard that before here from men, no one told me I was beautiful or even acted interested in me at all.

I was a dime a dozen: blonde, blue eyes, pasty white, fat, mother of 3 sons. That was pretty much ½ the population of the German heritage town I was living. No there was something about me that East Asians, south Asian, middle eastern and north African men loved, I was special in their eyes, maybe it was that I was large, I had heard that some cultures value a woman when she is fat because it is a sign of good health and money, or maybe it was that I was so honest, maybe they just never met anyone like me before, but for whatever the reason I attracted the darker skinned men, they were like moths to the flame.

No when I asked Hady to promise it was because I wanted our talks to remain as friends and not be bomb barded with all that lovey stuff, I needed a friend. He promised and I reluctantly opened my cam, I saw him sit up straighter to get a better look at me, he smiled and starred…. Silent a moment…. “Hi friend” and I laughed so hard that I scared myself, I was able to keep my friend, I was so happy! I found out that we had a lot in common, his birthday was the same week, we always thought the same, finished each other’s sentences or typed the same things at the same time and we became very close. More close than I had planned.

Hady started asking to see my cam every time we talked and he started giving his opinion on the men I told him I talked to, and of course none were suitable. He wanted to know more and more personal things about me and I started to see in his big beautiful eyes more than just a friends love, I asked my friend/neighbor who was also single to come over one day and sit to the side of my computer so that Hady would not see her, I wanted to know if it was just me or could she see in his eyes and in his words that he loved me. Maybe I was wrong and maybe I was just starting to love him myself and it was just wishful thinking. Rachel watched as Hady and I opened cams and listened to our conversations, she watched as Hady sat from across the world with his face resting on his hand, smiling into a camera at his computer screen and Rachel started to cry “I wished I had a man look at me with that much love as he looks at you”  

What was I going to do? I didn’t want to lose my best friend!

I tried to keep it from turning into love but sure enough I fell in love with Hady and we started to think of ways we could be together… student visa, marriage visa, work visa, what the requirements were for each. Meanwhile……

Another friend that I had met that Valentine’s day was also from Egypt but he was much younger and he had no interest at all in thinking of love or marriage Hamid was taking Hadys place in the best friends roll. Hamid loved my stories about who I talked to and who I was interested in, he used to draw the cutest cartoons of Men in a competition for my love. He called it the race to Deborah, whoever would be able to come to America would win Deborah’s hand and heart.

His jokes were not that far from the truth, I had put myself in a position where I had met so many men that were what I would say was suitable but each had their own reasons why they couldn’t come right now to the US or they were working on applying. So many that I had become attached to, I loved little things about each but none I could actually say “This is the ONE” and honestly even if there had been a man that I considered perfect in every way, it would not have changed my attitude, I knew not to trust my feelings or to wish too much, at any time they could disappear.

And one by one they did: The Iraqi Dr, The Egyptian Architect, The Indian Artist, The Rich Sadi, the Business man from UAE, The funny man from Jordan. I stood by and watched each one of those men that said they loved me, give up on trying to come here, and one by one through the years I got mails of them telling me they were getting married. I was happy for them in a way, and a little insulted, why couldn’t I meet a man that would work hard enough to be with me? Why couldn’t I find one man that would do anything for us to be together?

I decided that maybe me waiting for them to come to me just wasn’t going to work, maybe I needed to just give in and go to them. I had an older friend going to Egypt with her husband’s group of friends and I asked if I could tag along with his group for the cheaper air fare. She said sure but wouldn’t you know it, the very day I got enough money together to buy the tickets, Egypt’s government fell and there were riots everywhere, the business trip was cancelled, Hady told me to wait a little while and try again, but then there was internet problems and I stopped hearing from Hady at all

I got a mail after him being gone for a few months, his Father wanted him to marry…….

NOT AGAIN?

Beyond the Screen (Sanjeev)

I guess I have every reason to be afraid of men, after what I had subjected myself to, I am surprised that I was willing to say the word “Love” at all without a facial tic. I lived through pretty much being left at the alter by (Ben) I was a victim of others lies (Ta), I was raped (Keith), cheated on (Melvin), Beaten and abused (Chris) Alcoholism (Ruffo) You would think that I could smell a bad man’s stink from a mile away, Lord knows I had been through everything a man can dish out, You would think I would know what it was I wanted out of life by now, but that is not how it works.

Beyond the Pane may have been a story about overcoming the pain caused by the Men I chose to be in relationships with. It was the path I had to go through to learn to value myself, selflove. The first door of many that I must learn to open before I can open loves door. Before I can be worthy of a real mutual and equal relationship.

Beyond the Screen is my continuing story. I had entered a virtual world that was safe, I had no fear of rape, abuse, and hurt feelings was as easy as delete to disregard.. yep I was safe from physical pain, but removing the damage done by my past was a bit harder to do and facing the emotional world of getting to know people, trusting them, well I had some real work to do.

Let me walk through it with you.

I had started school back when Melvin was with me, I had worked for the past 3 years at a nursing home as a setter for very rich ladies that families didn’t want them medicated so my services were pretty much to protect the other patients at the nursing home from my clients dementia, I often worked 40 hours a week, bought a house, balanced my finances and my kids on my own. I was being able to stand on my own two feet without Melvin. I was also working but having a summer break from school when Ruffo came to visit, yes I was quite the modern woman, I could handle it all.

I had never touched a computer before starting school in 2004 I seriously had no use of them, being forced to do assignments for class was hard to adjust, I only did homework, Microsoft word, math sites, I seldom enjoyed sitting at the computer at all, my own mother knew more about computers than I did.

Remember when Beyond the Pane first began I was talking with my West African friend on the phone? Kadasia was in a few classes of mine and she had been talking about her boyfriend’s roommate liked me, we did become close, but the reason he was interested in me was I had suggested a solution to a problem he had with his visa, he had a student’s visa and his time for school had expired, I suggested that if he fell in love with an American he could marry and stay here. I wasn’t going to get married any time soon, I might as well help someone I knew that was in desperate need, he was very afraid to go back to his country, I wanted to save him.

After all the problems with Melvin and Ruffo had subsided I saw Kadasia at school and asked how her friend was doing and I apologies for not being able to discuss it farther with him. She said not to worry because over the summer he had actually met a woman and they started dating, she wants to marry him in real and that his problems were solved. I was happy for him, he was a nice guy and he deserved a good life. But it kind of made me think, if I could do that for him, why couldn’t I do that for someone else, a man of my choosing. If men can have mail order brides why couldn’t I save some man from a third world country and have him appreciate what I had to offer. I thought long and hard, I made a list of pros and cons. I made a plan, first on the plan was to pick a website.

I searched Free matches, foreign marriage site, I found webmarraige.com (it was the only one that was free) I was still not very comfortable with the computer yet, it took some mistakes and learning the whole making a profile, trying to find a way to put a picture but when I was done, my add was accepted all I had to do was wait, and I waited, and waited and I lived my life while I waited, it was weeks before I checked again on the site and I was weeding through, too old, too young, oh my God ugly, and hell no, not a Russian! I came across a man from India, his picture looked a little dated and I wondered if he was telling the truth about his age. Sanjeev, 28, widower and father of 2 children, I sent a message “I had seen your profile, do you have any more pictures of yourself?” I waited another week for his reply “here are more pictures of me. Will you marry me?”

I laughed so hard, I was so shocked! Was he joking or was he serious? What was he thinking? Was he crazy? Then I opened his mail and saw his pictures, wow! He was handsome, the right age, beautiful children, good job with education. I looked at his eyes in one of the photos and they seemed so warm, friendly but lonely. After explaining to him that was not the way people approach a woman and ask her to marry, the relationship began, he was only able to get on the computer on his days off and I had to stay up late because of the time difference but weekly we talked, chatted on yahoo, I got a video cam and microphone and we had what I called dates often and regularly, we discussed politics, religion, our past and our dreams. Then after a few months he asked me to stand up so he could see my full figure. I hadn’t thought about it, I mean we always talked about emotional things and feelings, we talked every time until his time was up and he had to go, we never talked about sex and I loved that we didn’t, but I neglected to mention one thing about me, I was fat.

I mean I was always honest, if he had asked about my frame I would have told him, but I have a beautiful face and it doesn’t really reflect my size, I am tall and very “plump” the men here usually didn’t care much for me or they were the types that loved my size “chubby chasers”. Now I was worried, I started really liking Sanjeev, what if he didn’t like me? What if he didn’t want me anymore? I had started to get too attached to him. But regardless I had to stand and face this; I had to face what I had become. I could have blamed it on the low self-esteem or the asthma, hell I could rationalize this as a choice. Point was there are no excuses, you are who you are……. and I stood.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were so large?”

I was mortified! I started immediately crying and I turned off the computer, I cried myself to sleep that night and many nights after. I was so angry at myself for being so huge and I hated him for judging me, I didn’t open the computer for weeks. And when I felt like I was strong enough to face that question, I opened my mail. And there were 50 mails in the past 2 weeks from Sanjeev, everything from apologizing for saying it wrong, that there was a misunderstanding, to telling me that his wife was a fat girl and he loves a soft woman to hold. I started crying again only this time they were tears of happiness. Maybe I could be loved, maybe I had not been so damaged that someone could actually love me just the way I am, flaws and all.

He was so scared he lost me forever and his mails were so desperate he didn’t have my phone number or he would have called me. I sent a mail back “I am sorry to make you worry so badly, sorry I reacted the way I did. Will you marry me?”

Our life changed after that moment, he of course demanded my phone number and I had his, we talked more often and he introduced me to his children, they started calling me “new mom” and they started asking when they were going to be with me. Sanjeev felt a need to send my Dad a mail, asking to marry me, I tried to explain to him that just doesn’t happen here anymore but he felt he had to out of his own tradition. My father respectfully mailed him back. Basically telling him that it is great that he loves his daughter but we will see if it is love when it is face to face. And there lay the problem… face to face

Within the time that Sanjeev and I fell in love and 2 years later, I had signed two different papers trying to sponsor him and his lawyers actually laughed at him. I had bad credit, didn’t own my property, hadn’t worked above poverty level in the past 2 years and I had no one willing to help and co-sponser. Lord knows my family wasn’t going to, they just as well see me never in another relationship again with my track record. I couldn’t help him; he tried a few other things within a small time frame of then giving up.

He said he would never give up but when his mails became farther and farther apart, and he seemed to lose his passion for our love, well I knew he had lost his interest in me, I do not blame him, it was just too much work, I understood, so when he sent me a mail that he drank alcohol for the first time in his life and for me to forgive him, (I knew something was up) I pressured him and pressured him to tell me why did he drink? He admitted that it was an engagement party; his mother wanted him to marry a woman there. He swore that he would not marry her but he had to make his mother happy, he said he will still try to be with me, but I knew, I felt myself UNLOVE HIM if that is a real thing. That was the day (I) gave up on Sanjeev

Beyond the Pane “The End” (True love is finally found)

All of the drinking, the bad attitude, and shaking from withdrawal the next day from his drinking binges, had done more damage to my psyche. He spent the past two month in one mood swing after another; he damaged my self-esteem in the bed room, isolated me from my friends and family, and physically and mentally abused my sons over fucking making a bed. I had held strong to the idea that in some way, somehow I could make things better. I spent all that summer so far, giving him what he wanted, helping him deal with withdrawal. I held his hand while he shook and talked him through those nights he wanted a drink but fought to be strong.

All of these things I could handle, but those words no matter how innocent and meaningless, represented what I wasn’t, what I couldn’t be anymore. If I had given in, well I was giving into the fact that I was no longer me and I had become what he wanted. What were those three little words?

“Iron my cloths”

Yeah I know… it would seem no big deal to anyone else, and maybe if he had been all the things I needed, all the things I was looking for than I could have seen those words in a different light. But in my mind, I was becoming someone I wasn’t; I remember well all those talks my husband had with me about the proper place of a woman. “She does for the man out of appreciation for providing and protecting, she cooks and cleans and stays pleasant for the man out of respect, if she cannot show respect than she deserves nothing, Even in her father’s house a daughter must respect her father, so When she has a husband she needs to respect and honor him. A woman shows her respect and honor by her actions”

What did I have to respect in Ruffo, even if that were the rules to go by? Than love, honor, cherish, being faithful and ironing cloths comes at an equal if not greater price. He has to be worthy of those things.

Ever have a true Epiphany..A knock you over, Oh My God! Why didn’t I see that before, Epiphany? You felt a little stupid; a little ashamed you couldn’t have learned that maybe a little sooner, taking into account perhaps how much true time you had wasted. Than you get this slow rising temperature build in your brain to the point you want to just explode. Most people release by saying a “Ohhhhhh” while others break off a few curse words, at their own unbelievable stupidity. Oh this was a cursing moment. “Oh my %^& son of a %^#@$()! Are you out of your ^#?)!! Mind?”

I grabbed his luggage from the closet, and started empting the contents from drawers into the suitcase. He started at me, trying to hold me from putting more of his things in the case. I stopped, looked him straight in the eye, with a calm almost insane smile. I spoke softly as I looked from under my brow “I gave you two months, I gave you every chance in those two months to show me that we fit, I made changes in myself to be all the things you wanted me to be, thinking I could accept those changes in myself, all for “love”. Ok I did that and nothing {I} did was good enough or sufficient to keep you from drinking, or keep you from yelling at me or my kids. I am done being the one to change, and I will not do even one more thing for you except drive you to the bus station.”

There is a time in people’s lives where they hit a point of no return, where they have to decide either to keep going and accept what they have done and who they have become; or they must decide to self-evaluate and make a change in direction as a last ditch effort to keep from being who they have become. I tried his way, I tried that road too many times and it always brought me to the same spot in life.

I am not that happy little house wife, “yes dear, no dear, anything for you dear” I cannot even for one more moment be that woman. I will not be told who I am and what I know, and I will not be left a victim! I will not be forced into doing things I do not want to do because some other person’s thinks it is “For my own good”. I will not be told the “things that are wrong with me” when I have nothing wrong with me at all. I am the perfect Me, I am exactly who I want to be, and no amount of mental, sexual, verbal and physical abuse is going to change that.

I love myself and I accept who I am no matter how often people have tried their level best to keep me from doing that. I do not need others approval, I do not need a person to say I am beautiful to know I am. I do not have to have someone to love me to know I am worth being loved. I spent my whole life to this point trying to be what others thought I should be or tried to make me be. I didn’t think well enough of myself to believe I deserved respect or I should be valued. I am more than what others love.

Ruffo was gone that day. And I never wondered for one second if I had made the right decision. I knew I was not meant to save him, but he did teach me to save myself. I have been broken hearted, rejected, raped, forgotten, cheated on, prostituted, disrespected, almost murdered twice, and put second to addiction. I have placed myself in these situations in the search of love, but not in search of a man’s love or even a woman’s love. In the end of my search I found self-love.

I know you expected a Happily-Ever-After, lord knows we are taught growing up that the man always rides off into the sunset with his fare madden and we end the story imagining the sweet kiss of our own true love, blink, blink, blink. The only way there could be a happily-ever-after is if they were tragically murdered as they ride out of our sight. No one imagines their fight over Prince Charming squeezing the tooth paste in the middle or Beauty charging too much on the credit card, and then in the true “End”, if they do not divorce from Charming being a little too charming and screwing the secretary, because Beauty got fat and ugly; than they get old and one dies of a heart attack and the other is left to live a sad cold existence in an old age home with only a memory.

I prefer this ending, I will not be forever alone in all actuality this story was written about my life 4 years ago and sense than I have loved and lost and love again. I have gone through more tragedies and suffered more heart break. The only difference is that while the laughs and sweet emotions are worth the payment of sadness, I appreciate the tears because I know they will not kill me and the love I feel for a man is only equal to a love I feel for myself. My search for my equal in love….. is another story.

I have been thinking of publishing this story along with a continued story
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Beyond the Pane XV (Beyond belief)

At the airport, I got there too early and sent the boys to the café for lunch, I was too nerves to eat. I just sat there and watched the planes taxi in, I knew his plane wouldn’t be for another hour so none of these planes carried the man I was so looking forward to yet be frightened to meet. I say meet because it is like I never knew him. He was nothing like the man I used to know. If I didn’t know better I would have sworn that the man I knew then died and in his place they put another, a bit older, some same features and similar accent.

Ruffo was no longer the dreamer, he had a rough life and seen a lot of things. His heartbreaks and disappointments had made him, in a lot of ways, cold and distant. The only reason I agreed to this trip was because I started to hear glimpses of hope in his voice, he had started to let himself trust me again. I could hear the smile in his voice.

I watched a very well dressed, business looking man step off the plane and I knew it was him, he stopped to talk with a pilot that exited with him and they exchanged handshakes. I wondered if he knew the pilot or whether he was just that social. I greeted him with a hug, like most the families and friends greeting their loved ones in the terminal, he felt hard and strong and if I had not been so self-conscious I might have let myself enjoy it, but it mostly just felt a bit awkward, the boys took his luggage, I couldn’t look at him, I don’t know what it was, maybe I was ashamed, maybe it was going to take some getting used to. I joked that I was just quiet because of my nerves but it was more than that. I was scared to death.

What if he was one of those “good guys” I had avoided like the plague, than I was looking at changing my life again to make room for him? And if he wasn’t who he said he was, if he wasn’t done drinking or partying, than what? I was opening myself up to a hell of a lot of drama for nothing. It was those thoughts that kept me on edge and even the drive back to the house I was preoccupied with my own thoughts. I know he must have been talking but I just smiled occasionally and nodded.

Back at the house he unpacked, I watched as he organized each piece of clothing perfectly in the drawers, every shirt with a crease “where had I seen this before?” he even straightened the bed covers to a flat wrinkle free surface before sitting next to me. I thought to myself “Odd, I know I have seen this” it took a few minutes of the way he walked, the way he sat and crossed his legs, he brushed his pant and straightened himself before looking at me and talking, like he was waiting for the picture (It was Chris) I tried all these years to forget his silly mannerisms, his pretentious air. Yet here I was face to face with the demon again (perfectionist)

Now let me give you a fast explanation why I cannot be with a perfectionist. I am not a slob, I understand that for health reasons that trash needs to be kept up with, I understand that an unsightly house makes for an unsightly life. I am an artist, and artist’s mind does not do well under restraints, I have to be free. If I want to cover myself head to toe in my work, frantic with creativity and fall asleep sitting at the isle at 4 am. I do not need a Man telling me to clean up my mess, take a shower and come to bed.

I spent my marriage ironing for Chris every day, I ironed his work uniforms, I ironed his Jeans, for God’s sake, I ironed his underwear. Seeing Ruffo’s perfectly ironed to a crease shirts alarmed me, I am not ironing his cloths! I tried to calm my unfounded frustrations; it is not like he was going to expect me to iron his cloths. He never told me “Oh yeah and Debby I am going to change you and mold you into the perfect little Martha Stewart house wife”. I had to remind myself that this was just one summer. He had first agreed to go to a hotel weeks ago, but as I felt more and more comfortable with him as his travel date drew nearer, we had decided to have him stay with us and he said that he would have more money to spend on more enjoyable things.

“Enjoyable things” I guess that definition has many alternative meanings. His thought of what was enjoyable wasn’t the same as mine, or my children. He bought “Wine” to celebrate and I told him no, I knew alcoholics should never drink, not even a wine cooler, not even a sip of wine at church. It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t hard liquor I knew from relatives and friends, but there was no detouring him.

In less than a week he was drinking and hiding the bottles. Ruffo was happy when he had already been drinking or when he was thinking of getting something to drink, but if couldn’t drink than he was not a happy man. He was cold, strict and angry at the world. He once spent 2 hours trying to teach, I mean yell at the twins on the proper way to make a military style bed. He actually flipped the coin on it and all.

He got a job after about a month, I believe he had drank his spending money, but I welcomed him being way from home for a while each day. I could relax and breathe for at least 5 hours before walking on egg shells again. I tried to not let people see my torture; I even hid how I felt from my family and my children. But I think everyone had an idea to my unhappiness. I stopped wearing makeup, I didn’t care what I looked like. My depression was deeply hidden but the symptoms were obvious.

I watched as my happy family turned into a nightmare, and if he wasn’t yelling at me for keeping a messy house than he was keeping me locked in the bedroom. Sex was the only thing that satisfied him when he wanted to drink. I will not turn this into a bashing of sexual skills, it is not my intention to say who was or was not good in bed, this book is not about sex, it is about the pain I endured for love. I believe that everyone has their abilities in some areas and others are much more skilled then some. Ruffo was bound by his obsessive compulsive tendencies.

I lay across the bed, waiting for him. He walked in the room from the shower. “Aren’t you going to take a shower now?” I said I just took a shower earlier, but he insisted that I take another. “Now lay straight in the center” I asked what difference does it make where I lay? Come on…. But he continued to get more and more obsessed to how I should lay, where my hair was, I could have been a doll and I do not think it would have been a difference to him, maybe he would have liked it better because half way into our intimate encounters he told me I was being too loud. I wasn’t allowed to touch his head or face; I wasn’t supposed to move at all really. I was also not to attempt oral sex… ever!

He had some unwritten set of rules that had to be adhered to in the bedroom or he just could not preform. I wanted to look past these quirks because sex actually wasn’t important to me anymore. Oh I loved sex and I had it quite often with (me myself and I) I really didn’t need anyone to please me. Emotions and feelings was the only thing anyone could offer me at this point in my life and let’s face it that was the only real department that he truly was completely lacking.

Ruffo once told me when we were sitting outside one evening “You know Deb I had a good life, I had so much good times, friends and travel that people thought I would never settle down and have a family. And there you were to prove them all wrong. I can’t wait to tell them all I found my family” I thought that was a compliment, I thought maybe in some way he was commenting on us being a good match or that he really loved us. But IT WASN’T, he actually just meant what he said, he wanted to prove them wrong and that he could have a family, lord knows he wasn’t being the loving part of the family, but he fit well with the phrase “Master of the house”.

He said those three words, those words that I dread more than pulling teeth; I could live my entire life and never hear them again.

You guys guess what those words are….. and I will finish the writing.

Beyond the Pane XIV

At the beginning of this book I found the old postcard from Ruffo. The memories of a time long past and a life I had dreamed of having haunted me. I knew in all the relationships I have never really done anything deserving of the abuse and fowl treatment that I was given. I knew that it was of no matter, I wasn’t meant to be with them. Most of the torcher I went through was of my own ignorance, trying to hold on to men I knew were bad for me or didn’t fit. I was determined to make them fit. But Ruffo, He did nothing wrong and I forgot him like he was… nothing.

I never even wondered once were he was or how he had been. I was ashamed of myself for being one of “Those women” That would ignore the good men and run into the arms of bad. To add to the damage I had done, I thought I had just disappeared and that Ruffo had just stopped calling, but Talking to my Mother I found out that Ruffo had called one time and she overheard my frustrated father tell him that “Deborah is married with a son, I think you should stop calling”

I had written Ruffo a letter, simple and sweet really:

Dear Ruffo

I wonder if you remember me or the small city Evansville Indiana that you visited on your travels with the carnival in 1987.

My name is Deborah and we spent many months talking on the phone. I hope that I haven’t brought you any bad memories of the past; I know our parting was sudden and no explanation was given.

I was going through some boxes and seen a postcard from you, and just had to see how you were and apologies for disappearing so many years ago. I hope you are doing well, I assume you are married with 10 children, I know you always did say you loved children. I am enclosing a few pictures of me, my 3 sons and the post card. I just want you to know that I am truly sorry and if it is any consolation to you, I have suffered many times over for what I did to you.

I hope this letter finds you well and happy

Deborah Cavins

Ps notice the name has not changed, I was married for a few months and then quickly divorced

I do not know why I wanted so badly to write Ruffo. I could have chosen to forget him and never look that way again, but something made me wonder, had I left behind the love I was supposed to have? What if all of this drama and heart wrenching pain was never supposed to happen? What if I had just taken the wrong path?

I will be honest, just like most books and stories written I had an idea even with this auto-biography that there should be a happy ending. I wanted this story that was my life to have meaning; I wanted my fairy tale ending. Never once in all my life have I ever cried to god “Why? Why are you doing this to me?” I wanted to think that all the faith I held on to all these years should have some kind of reward.

With those questions in my mind I leaped with excitement at the letter post marked from Ruffo. I ran into the house and just sat there a minute. Hands shaking too hard to actually open the letter and I just stared at it. I cannot describe in words the amount of emotion I was feeling, I actually had no expectations, that letter could have any number of scenarios within it. I tried to ground myself by imagining him being angry with me, with curses and threats. I thought of all the bad things he would say to me and him asking why after all these years did I reopen a wound he had spent so much effort to heal.

I took a deep breath and opened it paying attention to every word.

Well Hello Debby

Wow it has been a long time, and you are just as beautiful as I remember you, maybe even a little prettier. I was surprised when my mother told me I had mail from a Deborah Cavins, I was just talking about you the other day to my friend. I wonder how you were doing. Yes, Deborah, I have always wondered what happened to you and whether you were happy in your marriage. I have had my share of difficulties, health problems and my father died 5 years ago.

My Parents were very support after we stopped taking. I did buy a house for you and when your father said I was too late, I was very devastated, but hey, life goes on. I have had several relationships throughout the years but none I felt needed to be permanent. I never married, I never had children, I would like to be able to tell you more but I am on my way to work now and wanted to send this letter to you as soon as possible. Here is my phone number and a few pictures of me now, hope to hear from you soon.

I still love you

Ruffo

What? He what? Oh my God! I was mixed between regret for hurting him, pity for his remembrance of me and not having a good life, or what if he had some devious underlying plan to get revenge. Who the hell keeps a flame burning for someone after almost 20 years? Opps that’s right, I would. Crap! Now I was all confused, I almost wish he had cursed me and swore his hatred of me. I emptied the envelope of its content and there, just as he had said, were two pictures: One standing proudly at the entrance to a movie theater in Chicago, joking with his friends and the other wearing a suit with his mother at what looks like a church.

I had forgotten how he looked, I never had a picture of him, I have only the memories of that carnival and his respectful, protective manor, he had long black hair and tan skin. We had talked for hours, everyday on the phone, when I was young, we planned a wonderful future, and those dreams were what I remembered. He seems to be much older in these photos, with all grey army cut hair and a broad smile. This man in the photos enjoyed life and had the scares to prove it. I wondered, he dressed nice and looked to have a very active life in the big city, would I even have the ability to keep up with such a social man?

I made the call. I listened to the phone ring, and then ring again. I watched the clock as it rang again there was no answer and just as I was hanging up the phone, I heard a faint voice ladies voice “Hola!” I said hello back and asked for Ruffo. “he is not here, you call later, ok?” I said ok thank you Madre.

“Debby? You call my Ruffo Debby? I so happy hear you again, Ruffo need you Debby, I call him and tell him you ask for him, Ok?”

I hadn’t realized what she was saying was more than her broken English (Ruffo needs you) was really what she was attempting to say. Ruffo did call me, he was so happy, I tried to stay grounded, but at the same time, I really enjoyed talking about old times. I heard all about his life, the places he has been and how he helped raise his best friend’s son. He seemed so educated, he spoke so fluently and wise it was hard for me to understand the next part of his life. He tried to nicely but truthfully tell me how he was so upset over loosing me that he gave our house to his sister. He had started drinking and just never stopped. While I was suffering from one man to another he was suffering the bottle. He was able to maintain a few jobs but wasn’t able to actually make a carrier of any of them.

He had stopped drinking after his father died but not before he had done liver damage and now had diabetes. He has occasionally fell off the wagon and had been hospitalized for his binges. He assured me that those days were past and that he has been trying to straighten his life. What could I say? I knew that my past was what it was, it had done its share of damage, and I expected others to overlook my past and my mistakes. I felt like I had an obligation, I had been what caused him so much pain that it plummeted him into the depths of alcoholism. Even if I had not been the cause, maybe if I had been there for him he would have had something other than the bottle to look forward to.

Months of talking on the phone and getting closer and closer to him, we made plans for him to come and spend the summer (he called it his vacation)

almost reaching the end… If you like what you have read, please donate now to my writing fund