Every so often people I actually know in person will drop me an email just to update me on the happenings in their life. Normally I wouldn’t find the need to say anything here but I got one from a friend, my age, who I have known for some 20 odd years now. He told me he had a good story that would fit right in if posted in the Magic Weekend. I ended up calling Ron because his story was a bit disturbing and I needed to know more. So, since the email was brief, I am going to toss in a little background information first. Ron, 9 years ago walked away from a marriage that ceased to exist. He had known for a few months that his wife was cheating on him and one day he had enough, game over. They didn’t have any children so his choice, he says, was simple. One morning he woke up to go to work, leaving the signed divorce papers on the kitchen table, and when he left he never returned. After around 6 months he was notified by mail that his divorce was final. He didn’t seem real heartbroken about the news either. A few months went by and he dropped by the house with his girlfriend, Amy. She has to be 10 years or more younger than him but that didn’t seem to bother either of them at all.
Skip ahead a few years to the present day and they are still together. Neither wanted to ever get officially married so they never did. Since we keep tabs on one another I was glad he was back in the states again that way maybe we can get together. However, part of his email was to explain that he was moving from Houston and returning to Japan to take a permanent position there with his company. I am sure there is more than just reason he has made this choice, although, as you will read, it would seem he thinks his luck has run out with women. His relationship with Amy is really messed up now, she is not exactly being honest with Ron when he made some inquiries into what she has been up to while he was gone. He’s done with the lies now and decided to move on.
It seems when Ron in Japan for about 3 weeks three to four times a year, Amy is quite the party girl. Ron says he never had a clue and all she ever did when he was home most of the year was go to work and then be home with him. Enter the magic of Facebook networking amongst friends and people he barely new. Amy celebrated her 35th birthday while Ron was out of town, he knew she was going out with friends, but didn’t actually know any of them. Ron was forwarded the picture shown here from a friend of a friend of a friend when he saw that it was Amy. Ron went on to find out that Amy was a part of a paid escort party. Upon a little note digging, Ron found out she had been working as an escort for over 2 years. Needless to say, when he asks her about it she denies everything and blames it on mistaken identity. But he knew, he knew because he was there when she got the tattoo on her shoulder that he clearly sees in the picture. He never showed her the picture, he wanted to catch her in her own lie. After things settled down he decided to call the escort service and request Amy. He waited at the hotel and then when he answered the door he knew their relationship had just ended. No explanation needed, its over.
I am reminded by Ron’s story that just because we think we know what our significant other is up do all day and all night that we are probably only about 80% right about 80% of the time. I am not saying we shouldn’t trust one another, I am just saying to trust what you think first, then everyone else. We may not all be victims of a cheating spouse, but we all know that one doesn’t cheat only with another person. I will leave it there.
At age 24 Ariel has seen quite a bit. She has seen the great things in life as well as the outright bullshit that life has to offer on occasion. She finds herself lucky now because she has retired, never needing to work again unless she does it out of boredom. If you are asking yourself how she can be retired at the age of 24 that’s good, you caught it, but you will have to wait a while for the answers to your questions. I remember my many talks with Ariel as I read the notes I wrote in my little black notebook, I remember it like it was yesterday, her story impacted the way I think about certain things, because eventhough I was right, I was wrong as well. As much as I hate being wrong I’m well aware that it happens, doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it though. I wonder how many young women go through the phases of being able to use their bodies as a tool of sorts, a tool which allows them to fix things and open doors that may never have been opened without the use of their body. Ariel admits that she isn’t proud of everything she has done in her past but doesn’t regret it either because it has all gotten her where she is today, out of the rat-race, out of the concerns of getting a paycheck, and out of ever having to be someone’s perfect stranger.
It all started on Ariel’s first real date with a boy. She was 15 and he was close to 19. He promised her the world on a platter if she would have sex with him. She had never had sex before so she didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t even know if she wanted to have sex, she had heard stories of a girl’s first time before and it never sounded exactly pleasant. After some thought of what this boy had to offer, his offer of the world on a platter made her think that he would treat her as if she was a princess. Which, as always, when they hung out together he was very kind to her and treated her very well, so many of her concerns where left by the wayside. So, she agreed, she let him know and he said he would get everything set up. Later in the day he informed her that he had got a really cool hotel room for them. She spent many hours getting ready, she wanted to look just right, she wanted her first time to be different, she wanted her first time to actually mean something and be special for both of them. He stopped by her house and picked her up. He wanted to go party a bit first since he had promised some friends that he would drop by. They spent about a half hour there where she was ditched to hang out with the rest of the “girlfriends”, none of whom she even knew. Before long they finally left and drove to the hotel. It was the nicest hotel in town, it had better be because his family owns it. She tried not to think how many girls he has brought back to the hotel, she just imagined this would be the first time for both of them, she smiled at him as they walked straight to the room, and finally they had arrived.
As soon as they entered the room she noticed it was dark except for a single red light. He told her to get up on the bed and strip for him, strip for him like he was paying her to strip, it was time to earn the ride of a lifetime as he put it. She stepped onto the bed and slowly began to strip to a song she was listening to in her head. He clapped, whistled, and began throwing money onto the bed at her feet. When she was finally naked she just moved slowly, waiting for the next instructions, but then everything went crazy. A rag was jammed into her mouth that tasted like gasoline, a bag was slipped over her head while her hands were pulled behind her back, she felt the zip-ties dig into her wrists as well as around her neck. She knew she was dead, she knew she was about to be raped, she knew it was going to hurt, she knew she couldn’t scream, and she knew that there was nobody to help her. From behind she was pushed down flat on her stomach to the bed then she felt hands grab her ankles and flip her over. This is when she realized that there was more than one person in the room but how many was unknown, she didn’t want to know to be honest. One person had ahold of her right leg at the ankle and the knee, and another person on the other side doing the same, they had pulled her legs straight out as if she was doing the splits mid-air. Her legs were shaking from the muscle stress and the cramps began to set in. She just wanted it to be over, she tried to scream but could only gag.
Out of the blue she felt a shocking jab into her vagina, then it began to go deeper, then deeper, tearing the skin each time it thrust inside her. She couldn’t figure out what was happening, the object was cold and very hard. Then she got another surprise, she felt something large being rammed into her ass as well, in her head she was screaming but couldn’t hear anything, in fact she hasn’t heard anything from anyone in the room, she just felt them shoving objects inside her deeper than she thought possible. After what seemed to be many hours it stopped as fast as it started. She remembers a tremendous pain in her vagina, one of them kicked her so hard in the vagina that she blacked out cold. She woke up completely dressed sitting in a what appeared to be a little diner, a strange place she wasn’t familiar with, it smelled like old grease and burnt food. She flagged down a waitress who explained that she was given $100 to keep an eye on her and help her when she woke up because she had taken some drugs and couldn’t handle it. She remembers thinking if she had taken drugs or was she just drugged. The waitress informed her what day it was and what time it was, she had lost 4 days and 17 hours since the moment she entered that hotel room. She was very nauseous and in a considerable amount of pain, she remembers smelling like dog piss. She got up and went into the rest room where she saw her face for the first time, her make up was a wreck, her hair was everywhere, and she had a bruise going all around her neck.
She borrowed money for the pay phone to call her mom. She wouldn’t pick up probably because she didn’t know the number, she didn’t bother leaving a voicemail simply because her mom never learned how to listen to them. So here she was, the waitress explained she was in La Marque Texas which is a fucking long way from Springbrook Wisconsin. The waitress told her it was about 1500 miles between the two places. She just wanted to know why she was here and why so many days passed by. She needed to know what the hell happened. She was pretty sure she needed to go to the hospital and the police department. The waitress gave her a ride to the hospital where Ariel was interagated as is she had committed some kind of crime. The hospital staff contacted the local police department who paid her a visit in the hospital. She was arrested for prostitution after a short interview. After drug tests were ran she was found to be positive for heroin and considered still under the influence. She was placed into a holding cell with other adults, a judgement call she thinks the officers made because she looks older than she is and had no identification at all to prove who she was. Of course, never being to jail before her fingerprints weren’t in the system, so they held her to see the judge in 2 days. The judge considered everything Ariel had to say to be absolute bullshit. The judge, however, did get ahold of Ariel’s mother who sent all the proper documentation for review. Ariel was sentenced to 26 months in juvenile detention. She was released after 20 months since the entire time she was a model student and inmate.
On the day of her release she called her mom to figure out what to do from here. Her mom, who was told stories of Ariel’s behavior with the boys and how she ran away to Texas to get away from her bitch of a mom. None of it was true, but all of it was believed. At that point she just gave up, everything she was looking forward to was just ripped away from her because her mom basically told her to go to hell, don’t come back because this isn’t your home any more, she was told that her life no longer existed in that family. After getting a space to sleep at the women’s center in Houston and a hot meal, she said she spent allot of time thinking about where she was going to go, where was she going to live, how was she going to live. The first night in the women’s shelter she locked herself in a stall in the rest room staring at a rusty razor blade she found in the janitor’s closet. After some time considering her options she just dropped the razor, got her jacket and shoes, and walked out of the shelter, never looking back. She never wanted to go back, that was not who she was, eventhough she no longer knew who she was.
After a few weeks living on the street, sleeping and eating here and there, getting by with what she had, she found herself at a new all time low. She seduced a man coming out of a bar who had been drinking, she convinced him to give her a ride and some money for the blow job of a lifetime. Blowjob of a lifetime, how about this was going to be the first blowjob she has ever given, it would be the first time she would ever have a man’s dick in her mouth. When it came time for the deed she unzipped his pants and this monster stared back at her. She made the decision right then and right there that shit was not about to happen. So, she began kissing it while she slid her hand into her pocket where she quietly removed a box-cutter. In a flash of adrenalin she had the knife to his package while she instructed him to give her all of his cash. Playfully she told him to go ahead and report this to the police and be sure to not leave out she was a minor. She got out of the car and disappeared into the woods at the edge of the park. When she figured nobody was coming and she was safe she wanted to see how much money she just robbed the guy for, not bad she thought, $3800. He must have had either big hooker plans or big strip club plans. Well, not now, now he is on his way home, to his wife most likely. After the adrenalin because to level off she decided she was going to use the money to clean up, get some clothes, get a job, and get a place to live. The following day she was shopping, with the intentions of making a purchase, for some clothes. The women in the store were less than helpful so she fell on to old habits and helped herself to a few picks of her own. She had done it a hundred times, why would this be different. She did get her hair done, she did buy some make up, and she did buy some new shoes. She says it felt good to pay cash for things, even if it was some jack-ass’s cash.
She bounced around jobs here and there, working in bars mostly because she found the sluttier she dressed the bigger the tips were. Eventually she found herself applying to waitress at Club X where she ended up getting full time employment, healthcare benefits, and so forth. She was very happy she just turned 18 because that would have been a deal breaker. She made a decent amount of money between her hourly pay and tips the first year, she recalls it was just shy of $50K. She says she remembered the strippers raking in 5-7 times that amount of money and really wanted a piece of that action. She arranged everything with the recruiter and the owner and she began stripping part time and waitressing part time. Eventually she became a full time stripper making serious cash. for the next 4 years she kept her life simple, driving a beater car, living in a one room apartment with no extras, and cooking at home as much as possible. Shortly before she turned 24 she remembers looking at her bank statement, something she usually avoided and didn’t pay attention to. She just made the cash deposits twice a week and went on about her day. But, on that day, she saw something that made her think pretty hard about what she was doing for a living and wanted to make a few changes. I was nosey and I did ask her what the number was, she replied $927K and some change. Yes, that is well over $300K a year for those of y’all doing the math in your heads. She decided that day that it was time to retire from being a stripper, time to hang-up her rhinestone garter belts, and time to find someplace new to live, somewhere with white beaches like in the magazines, with crystal blue water, and nothing or nobody for miles around. She bought herself a one-way ticket to a place she failed to disclose to me, she finished talking to me, finished her drink, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and hit that stage for the final time at Club X. I didn’t even see her slip out later. I hope she followed her dreams and found what she was looking for, she seemed like a good kid.
A couple of months ago I received a letter in the mail that made some, in my opinion, really outlandish claims. It was a letter that took quite a bit to digest because the information made sense but at the same time confused the hell out of me. The first person I talked to about this letter was my oldest daughter (23 y/o) because I was hoping she might help me make sense of it enough where I could have a talk with my wife that actually made sense. In the beginning of the letter the woman identified herself (I will refer to her as “ST) as the granddaughter of my biological mother (I will refer to her as JT). I was 2 sentences in to the letter and now I was a little pissed. Let me track back a few years and I will explain. I will assume from this point forward that y’all know I’m adopted. I located my biological mother back in 2002 and the short version was I was fed a boatload of bullshit that took me roughly 8 years to unravel. When I unraveled what I was able to find out I was able to find my biological father (died in 2004) which led me to tracking down his wife, which eventually led to me finding their children, and in 2009 I met a majority of them when attending my eldest daughter’s high school graduation in South Dakota where the biologicals also happened to live. Anyway, the long and the short of this is that my biological mother (JT) said without saying that she does not have time for me in her life and wishes that I will discontinue contact. Her wish was my command and I do not have contact with her nor have I met her yet because she has declined meeting me under any circumstances. Back to the beginning of the letter from ST. Granddaughter? This means that JT had children or at least one where she told me that after the “ordeal” with me that she never wanted any more children because she was heartbroken that she was forced to give me up for adoption since she was only 16 y/o at the time of my birth. Shall we go deeper into the rabbit hole?
ST went on to explain that she was the daughter of the youngest of two sons of JT. Dramatic pause please ………….. wait for it ………………. WTF did she just say???? Did she just say that my biological mother had two sons besides me? Unfuckingbelievable! Now ST had set the hook and was in the process of reeling me in, it was slow going because, as one might imagine, I was fighting the information a little bit because of my disbelief of what she was saying. I can’t help but reading on, pushing forward, looking for the next little surprise that she might have to offer. Here it comes, she didn’t ease into it at all, no cuddling and no foreplay, just jumped right into it. Apparently my biological mother is having some heath issues of some sort so ST was asked to come over to her house, because they live in the same town of Kingston Idaho, to help her do some cleaning. ST wasn’t there to help, she was there to do it herself because JT was in the hospital for a few days having tests done. While at JT’s house ST got to snooping around because she has never been in this house alone so she said it felt natural to look around a bit. ST had done some laundry and was in the process of hanging the dresses up in the closet when her hand bumped a large envelope. When she peeked to see what was in this stuffed envelope she saw pictures of her dad (RT), her uncle ( also JT), and another man she didn’t recognize (me). There were individual pictures of me while I was in the Air Force, individual pictures of her dad while he was in the Air Force that she had never seen, and one picture of her dad and myself together in our uniforms. She enclosed a copy of this picture. My first thoughts? Holy shit I met my half brother and neither of us even knew the relationship. ST had not made the connection at this point, it took her some time looking through letters that I had written to her over the years, 4 to be exact, none of which were ever answered. ST explained she was very stunned because grandma had some explaining to do. ST borrowed the envelope that afternoon knowing that grandma would not be home for a few days. She wanted to talk to her boyfriend of 4 years what he thought and if he had got the same impression from everything that was read, to include information about my adoption and so forth. He concluded the same thing, her grandmother was hiding all of this from the family for some reason. But, what was the reason? Why hide all of this for so many years? Why is it so important to keep this a secret? That information boys and girls may never be revealed.
After speaking with her boyfriend, ST spoke to her father in a very private setting. Her dad, RT, explained to her that it was ok to contact me since they had my phone number and address. So, she did contact me, she did write me the letter, and she did talk to her uncle as well. I reviewed what I knew about her dad. He was part of a select group of people that I hung around while I was stationed in New Mexico. He was on my “crew” but I knew all six of my crew pretty well because working with explosives you need to be able to know the “sides” of people and their moods as it helps to determine how they operate day to day. In fact, I knew ST as a young girl, I would guess she was 9 or 10 at the time, as well I knew his wife. Her dad and I had a weird relationship, we acted like siblings to one another, but were never really close by any means. We joked around well together and worked well together. As I read this letter I would pause to look at the picture she sent because I knew exactly when, where, and why the picture was taken. That in itself isn’t important, just had those flashback moments that in the end made me smile. After a very long talk with my wife the ultimate question was asked, she wanted to know what I was going to do. Well, first, I kissed her on the forehead, gathered up the letter, and headed out to my shop to be alone. I was mad. I was mad at a person who didn’t have the time for me to tell me she had two sons just a few years younger than me. I was mad that I wasn’t important enough to tell. I did allot of yelling at her in my shop, I called her things I don’t care to repeat here, and I cut up allot of wood that otherwise I would have used to make something nice. I worked thru my anger as the night passed. I would read the letter, stare in to the picture, read the letter some more, and then finally I folded the letter back up, replaced it into the envelope, closed up my shop, and went back up to the house since it was about 3 in the morning. I called her that day, I tried to be a cold hearted bastard and act as if I didn’t care, but it didn’t work because ST was so damn sweet to me. She knew she would be fucking my life up by sending the letter, but she knew she needed to tell me what she did for the sake of everyone involved, to include herself. She mentioned that she put all the papers back in her grandmothers closet and she isn’t any wiser that anything has transpired. St asked me if I was mad at her, I guess my tone was a little stressed, but I let her know I hold no anger for her because they were as clueless as I was. She mentioned how bizarre she thought it was that her grandmother would keep all this information about me but keep me a secret to all her family. All I could do at that time was agree with her.
Since then, I have spoken to ST and my two 1/2 brothers on a few occasions. I have not spoken to my biological mother. I have sat down and talked with my mother who finds everything I uncover over the years very interesting. Sadly, she has been able to provide zero help because she had parts of the same false information I began my journey with. But, she knows I am not family shopping. Any additional people brought into my life all have to understand I do have a life, that they also have a life, and just knowing all of this information is disruptive enough. Then a person has to process the lies, the deceit, the rabbit holes, and the sometimes high hopes which get deflated every so often. I don’t know if they will ever confront their mother with what they found out or with what I was able to tell them. Personally I don’t care. They will have to wrestle those demons on their own as I wrestle my demons on my own. I know what your thinking but I’m not really that selfish. As far as I am concerned I don’t have anything specific to say to my biological mother. If I never meet her in person I think I can live and die in comfort with my decision. It’s things like this in my life that demonstrate the exact reasons why I don’t trust too many people.
About a year ago is when this all occurred for me. I had grown tired of being taunted and teased all the time by friends and family that I would never find love and that I would never get married. It all sat really hard with me because I’m now 36 and have no life other that travel and work. I had become discouraged with Facebook because it didn’t seem like any of the singles my age were interested in anything except extra-marital affairs and I didn’t want to get mixed up in that at all. With the advice of my mother I created an account on Christian Mingle and loaded up my profile. In the beginning my inbox stayed empty, then I would get the empty conversations, and after about a year I began corresponding with a woman my age named Ashley. We seemed to both have quite a bit in common and she says she wouldn’t mind my traveling. We didn’t live too terribly far apart, with her north of Orlando and myself in Bunnell.
After the usual talking on-line through the site we saw trust within one another and exchanged cell phone numbers so we could talk while I was on the road. After about a month of texting and talking she started sending me pictures of herself. They started off with her being fully clothed, then in bikinis, then erotic lingerie, and finally just her in her birthday suit. I have to admit, she was stunning to look at and I could not wait to meet her in person. I sent her only one picture of myself compared to like 60 she sent to me. Mine was simple, just me fishing from the beach one summer. She really had my attention. Eventually we made arrangements to meet in a central location to both of us and at a place that was neutral for both of us as well. She knew allot about Daytona Beach and started listing out hundreds of places we could meet. Finally we settled with meeting at the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co. restaurant right on Daytona Beach. The weekend was finally here and I packed a small bag with a change of clothes so I was sure to have my bathing suit just in case we decided to actually go down to the water.
On my drive down to Daytona I go a call from Ashley informing me she was already there and since she got there so early she decided to get a room at a local motel off the beaten path by the beach. I agreed to meet her there as we both agreed that it might be best to meet for the first time in a not so public forum. She texted me the address and I found myself heading her way. She was definitely right, the motel was off the beaten path a bit and kind of secluded from the view of the street. My anticipation was growing by the moment and I was getting really anxious to get to meet her. When I pulled up I found my way to park in front of the room number she had given me. Being polite, I called her while sitting in my car to announce I was here and coming to the room. She told me it was perfect timing and to come on in because the door was open.
I was raised better than to just barge into someone’s room, so I knocked on the door and waited for her to answer it. The door slowly opened reveling Ashley standing there without a stitch of clothing on her wet, nude body. She apologized for being wet and naked and told me that she had just got out of the shower and heard the knock on the door. I remember thinking that this was odd since I just called her a few minutes ago, but oh well, I’m here now. She grabbed me by my hand, leading me into the hotel, and then she shut the door. That was the last thing I saw, the light just before the door completely closed. I woke up around 7 hours later. I realized at this point that the back of my head was bleeding pretty good. When I got up off of the floor to head to the bathroom to get a towel I realized I was completely naked and completely alone as well. After making my way to the bathroom I looked in the mirror to see I had a black eye and was missing a tooth. Further examination of my body would reveal that I had bruises and small cuts everywhere. Further observations would reveal that all my clothes, my wallet, my cell phone, my keys, and my car were all missing.
I got on the motel phone and called the Daytona Police Department to report the robbery and assault. A male and female officer arrived after about 15 minutes to take me report. I had found a robe tucked in on the top shelf of the closet so I felt a little better. I let them in, the female officer immediately began talking with me writing everything down while the male officer looked around the room and asked neighboring rooms if the heard or saw anything. Then the kicker. I was informed this motel was notorious for being used in prostitution scams and robberies. Shortly after I was read my rights and was told I was being arrested for solicitation of a prostitute. With no identification I was treated like an actual criminal. I was loaded into the car and drove to the police station where I was duly processed in accordance with the law. With my one call I contacted my mother and explained what happened. She said she will call the insurance about the car and bring me my birth certificate to prove my identity. But, she can’t come until the following morning because she doesn’t drive after dark.
So there it is, I spent the night in jail because I got robbed and beaten. I understand the police department’s point of view but what about what really happened, does that even matter. The answer is no actually. After my release I got busy changing locks on my house, luckily they never came here and robbed me here. I called to cancel credit cards and order replacements, as well as getting charges stopped on my bank account. They managed to remove $4679.92 from my bank account as well as spending another $2109.89 at a variety of places, all in a matter of under 24 hours. When I go to Christian Mingle to retrieve what information I saved about Ashley her entire profile was gone, of course. My car was found a few weeks later torched and burnt to the ground in Las Vegas Nevada. After my insurance claim went through I got another car. Since all of this happened most of the money I lost was “refunded” to my new bank account. To my knowledge this is still under investigation because they have never been able to identify who actually did this to me. I don’t personally see it being solved. She is long gone and I helped her get long gone. On a personal note, I have given up on internet dating sites. I will just need to find the right woman for me some other way. I have learned my lesson and wanted to share with people so they don’t go down the same lonely road that only leads to despair and agony.