Life As, A Real-Life, 'Alice In Wonderland'

I have had a hell of a time writing this blog post. I have restarted it, from scratch, several times now. If this is what you see online, you will know that I FINALLY got through the tremendous, stressful, challenge, of articulating these things from my life. Most likely, though, I will be bald, for awhile, as I feel very close to pulling my hair out over trying to get this said and done. (Apparently, I can still find traces of my sense of humor, in me, somewhere. >sigh!< ) My aim is to accurately describe my life; not to intentionally 'roast' someone. I am in a state of exhaustion because I have been going through so much for so long that I am extremely depleted in my body, soul, and spirit. I would give almost anything for a walk on the beach and to feel some serenity and sanity return to my tempest-tossed temperament. Truth, is very important to me. It can be approached in a number of ways, though, that can avoid being used as a weapon. My intention is not to hurt anyone and I really wish they would have that same spirit toward me. We're all accountable for our actions however; and I do not think it is right, or proper, for someone to mistreat me, and then, expect me, to not ever say anything, about that. Especially, when it, deeply, affects me, and it becomes a part of my life story-- which, I write about, here. The blog's title is, clearly, stating that, I write about the 'dark nights of the soul', that I have been given to have to get through, as best I can. The word "ascent", reflects my deep desire that, at some point, I will, finally, overcome all the assaults on my happiness, that I endure, and live in the light of, peace, joy, laughter, and love.  A big, and perhaps, impossible, aspiration, given the fact that, this planet, I live on, seems to devolve into, increasing, depravity, every day, and my personal life, has been rife with troubling turmoil, and a ratio of life experiences that has seemed to slant, much more, toward, 'bad' ones, than 'good'. I have a (VERY BADLY) broken heart.  A, small, sliver, of hope, still, within me, is the, one, thing, that, keeps me going, toward that goal; one WEARY step after another.  My deep faith, in God, is my strong anchor as I have clung to what, and where, I see Him leading me, and trust Him, to bring about His Will, and Plan, despite, how things LOOK. The Bible says, we are to "walk by faith and not by sight" (2 Corinthians 5:7).  I trust God, and His Word, even when, I don't, fully, trust, anyone else. INCLUDING, MYSELF.

Life is largely viewed the way it is because of the lens we choose to look through. If we look for the bad, it is surely there, and if we look for the good, it is there as well. Recently, someone was (based on results: making the mistake of) asking me the, seemingly, socially innocuous question, "How are you?" In my defense, I had gone to see them, with a smile on my face, solely to give them a gift, which I felt would be welcome, and which they liked, and received with appreciation. I did not go to stay long or have a long conversation, as I was trying to get some things off my To Do list before the approaching weekend. They appeared to also be about to go home for their weekend plans, as well. By all intents and purposes, this should not have ended up being the outburst from me that it was, following the inquiry. I hesitated, struggling, to decide, what to say, in response, when, a sudden flood of my pent-up emotions started attaching themselves to the words which had begun pouring from my mouth. I had been stuffing all that inside me, saying nothing, to anyone, about how I was feeling, for a lengthy amount of time, at this point, and, the dam just burst. As my frustration level began to be expressed, my voice rose, and its volume increased. It could not be stopped at this point as I poured out my very real grief and heartache over some of the ways that I have been treated that are just so wrong; which, this person already knew about, because they had been witness to the things that I was describing. The injustice of it all angered me, and my temper showed, as well. To make this hysteria I was having worse, the person didn't lead me into a nearby room, where they could shut the door until the steam was all out of my hurting soul, over this, ongoing, issue, that I am dealing with. I was asked to "walk with me", as they began to open doors, to the outside, letting this 'go public' at that point should anyone else be around, and then, outside with them, to stand there, in the light of day, as I got the rest of it off my chest, finally finishing this crescendo of righteous indignation I was voicing. None, of which, I'd had any intention of saying at all when I went there merely to give them the item that I thought could well be a blessing, to them, which, they said that it truly was.

How fine you look when dressed in rage. Your enemies are fortunate your condition is not permanent. You're lucky, too. Red eyes suit so few. - Cheshire Cat

It happened because their question seemed to CARE how I am doing, and as they also know, probably better than anyone else in my life right now, I have been put through, some, really, ridiculous, and stressful, situations, in recent weeks, which have caused me to hardly sleep for days on end, lately, and cry (which I normally rarely do, unless I am VERY STRESSED BY SOMETHING), with a sound that is not 'human' but more akin to what comes from the mouth of a wounded animal. Yet I don't know if they asked me how I was because they DO care, or just to be polite. Regardless of which one their intention was, I emailed them saying that I am sure they regretted, asking me that question, based on the results. I did not want that to happen, or intend for that to. I have, clearly, just reached my breaking point in having to deal with some truly bizarre things, that people have perpetrated in my life. I would likely be coping with it much better than I am, if it were coming from people that I don't like, or care about. But, these things are coming from people I not only care about but even deeply love. I think that's why it has been especially hard on me. I am walking by faith, as far as all the reasons that God led me here, and I know that, at some point, His Will, will manifest more clearly, in the natural realm. But these people have already so touched and affected me that they have literally altered who I am as a person, in some profound ways, and I needed that.

 

It can be confusing, and uncomfortable, to be the clay, on the potter's wheel, and feel like, such a, wobbly, off-center, mess, while having no idea what the potter is trying to achieve, as you see yourself transforming in ways that are profound and permanent. From things as simple-- but surprising-- as seeing my taste in music, change, so drastically, that a genre, that I never listened to or valued, is now my favorite music of all, prompting me to purchase 35 songs, of it, for my playlist, to my gentleness and generosity toward people who have put me through some bad things, because I care, more about them, than the level of hurt, they have caused me, I am not the same person that God Led here, for His, mysterious, reasons; in some significant ways. I could definitely delve into a diatribe about the things they have done to me, and it would be justified. I do not think it is fair, for someone to cause so much crap in someone's life, and not expect them to say anything about it. God knows that the counselors on the Veterans Crisis Line all know me by now.

NO   ONE   DOES    [PLAY   FAIR]    IF   THEY   THINK   THEY   CAN   GET   AWAY   WITH   IT.   - Cheshire Cat

 
As for the other, equally colorful, characters in my life, now, I feel an affection for them all; even those that have been such bitches to me that I don't like them, for it. They don't see my slight smile, after I walk past them talking together, and am glad to see, they are living their lives in a way that is bringing them happiness. (I just wish they didn't ALSO contribute their bitchy bullshit to MINE because I am a loner, by nature, and I choose to spend the majority of my time alone. I need, the PEACE of PRIVACY, alot, more than most people.) Because of the sometimes crazy Cast Of Characters here (which includes me, in their eyes, because I'm different in some really notable ways myself, being very eccentric, and more uninhibited, than most),  I realized recently that I frequently feel as if I'm Alice in Wonderland. It is a crazy community, in some ways; no doubt about it. It is also, generally, a caring one. These people test me and try me, to my core, but they also are a blessing to me-- even the bitches, believe it or not. I am not at all happy with how badly they treat me-- often in ways that, it goes without saying, they would pitch a fit over if I had done the very same things to them-- but I understand that, how they act, is really out of WHO THEY ARE, not WHO I AM. It is the same way about my being a loner. It's not about them, although, they react to it as if it is a slight, or insult, to them, because they prefer to talk together, often, and gather in groups, to gossip.

I'm JUST BEING ME-- whom I have ALWAYS BEEN, long before I came here. It has everything to do with HOW I COPE with life, and is NOT me avoiding them (except for the secondhand smoke which I do dislike, including because I have respiratory issues). When I have any thoughts, about them, at all, it is things, like, "I REALLY WISH they would quiet their dog! I love that dog but it's BARKED for 20 MINUTES and I WAS, in bed, ASLEEP, before that started." Later, that same day, although, I am, sleep deprived, due to that, I will be in the kitchen, looking in my pantry, and I will think to myself, "I will be so glad, when I FINALLY have the time and money to start baking, again, so I can offer a cake to the community (which includes the bitches, because, for better or for worse, WE ALL LIVE HERE TOGETHER). There is no one here that I wish ANY ILL WILL TO, despite how horribly some of them have treated me. I may not LIKE everyone but God's Spirit in me HELPS me love them. I don't SHOW love for people, though, if my doing so opens me up to their abuse. That's happened to me with several people here, and I withdraw, when they do it.

Just the other day, I was heading home after a walk when a neighbor I had drinks with, last summer, called out a greeting to me, after we hadn't spoken since some serious bullshit happened back then, that left me feeling violated and outraged. It was an appropriate gesture, which I accepted, as I stopped on the street to stand and chat with them a few minutes. I expressed concern and compassion for them, and let them know that me and another person here had prayed together for him, when he was ill. As I turned to go home he invited me to stop by for a drink again sometime. While I am SURE that THAT will NEVER HAPPEN, again, after the fiasco it was last year (his even offering that seemed so clueless, and tone deaf, to me), I smiled, because I knew his intention was to reconcile with his neighbor, and that was a welcome act on his part. Sometimes-- actually, ALOT OF TIMES-- when, we are dealing with other people, the BEST THING WE CAN DO is show them GRACE. I would TRULY BE LOST, in EVERY way, WITHOUT GOD'S GRACE. So, even when I get SO ANGRY AT PEOPLE at times, for how they treat me-- especially, when they REALLY HURT ME DEEPLY, as quite a few people here have, sad to say-- my hope, is that my broken heart, and this dysfunctional community, will eventually, by our choices and efforts, begin to be a place of PEACE, that we ALL FEEL THE LOVE in.

There isn't ANYBODY I have met here that I don't truly care about, and even love. They make it REALLY DIFFICULT, FOR ME, to not only, EXPRESS that, but to, FEEL it, some days. That's for sure! Nevertheless, GOD BROUGHT ME HERE, and I'm so GRATEFUL TO HIM for that! In spite of everything, I know that I know that I know that THERE IS NOWHERE ELSE, in this WORLD, that I would rather be! I hope this community will become something as special, to EVERYONE here, as it is TO ME! I can't always express my appreciation, and gratitude, here, because people cannot accept it for what it is. They sometimes give it more meaning or manipulation that I did not mean, by it, which deeply discourages me from saying anything to them, at all. It's hard for me to trust people, as it is. There's not one person here, that I totally trust, at this point, not to hurt or betray me, which is sad. To NEVER KNOW WHERE YOU STAND with someone, is a SCARY THING FOR ME. I have a very deep need to FEEL SAFE, in my surroundings, and I can't feel that way when people are treating me in some of the hurtful and hateful ways they have done to me, here. I have experienced some pretty petty behaviors from people. Even, right now. It all comes down to people NOT LOVING THEIR NEIGHBOR, like they do themselves. It is going to become, and be, whatever the people here make it. Sometimes I really wonder, if what they are contributing to the community is WHAT, THEY WANT, it to be like. THIS IS THEIR HOME, and MY home. It would be SO MUCH NICER for ALL of us if everyone either MADE IT BETTER, or AT LEAST didn't spend SO MUCH time and energy, on gossip and schemes, that MAKE IT WORSE. NO ONE would want to shit in their own food dish, and then try to nourish their body by eating that CRAP.

In a way, that is EXACTLY what some people here are DOING. That will never lead to good results, for ANYONE here; including them. I long for people to STOP being JERKS to others here and show some genuine, neighborly, good will, so things can IMPROVE. When, someone is doing UGLY things, to ME, it is NEVER going to make me WANT to INTERACT WITH THEM. Their actions, place me in a protective mode, where I avoid them, and have no desire to interact with them, or open myself up, to them, in any way. I truly don't understand how people can treat people in ways that THEY WOULD BE UPSET AT if that were done to THEM. For things to IMPROVE someone would have to demonstrate 'good faith', by treating me how, they, would expect me to treat them, were it reversed. When I am DISRESPECTED it DOESN'T encourage me to WANT to interact, with the people who are treating me that way.

This community is going to be what people make it. Bottom line. Some people, do seem to prefer feeding from the same pot they shit in, so to speak. I have no idea why that has been their choice. Ego. Insecurity. Women, that are elbowing others, to secure their hierarchy in the henhouse, and that, becomes their priority, over a better quality of life; including for themselves. For many of us here, we are in our 'Golden Years'. Some, that moved here, have already passed away. Any of us, can expect something to, take us out, of life on this earth, due to our health issues, or such, any time now, although I am sure that, WE, ALL, HOPE to LIVE, for decades more. I just find it REALLY SAD that the LAST LEGACY people here seem to WANT to LEAVE BEHIND THEM is the one that, they have been demonstrating, so far. To be honest, I have actually cried out to God, at times, about people here that have done some REALLY CRUEL, and MEAN-SPIRITED, things, to me, that I KNOW that, if I did those things, to THEM, they wouldn't appreciate that AT ALL. When I have been, DEEPLY WOUNDED, by their actions, toward me, and/or, LOST MY TEMPER, over it, I have even told God that I WOULDN'T MISS THEM AT ALL, IF THEY DIED THIS MINUTE! Wouldn't they RATHER the community MOURN THE LOSS, of them, among us, and all talk together of, HOW MUCH THEY WILL BE MISSED? I wonder what people are thinking, when they sully their standing here, by behaving badly.  I DEFINITELY have MY faults and shortcomings. I am NOT PERFECT EITHER. But I CAN say for certain that I have never TRIED to HURT someone ON PURPOSE. The way I write my blog posts about my life now, which is here, REFLECTS that truth.

People know that I write a blog about my life-- ESPECIALLY the 'dark nights of the soul', which are the BAD things. Many know it is read by people around the world, in 62 countries, now. (THANK YOU, Readers!) You might think that, they would be more careful about how they treat me, since, those experiences, and interactions, become a part of MY LIFE, and therefore a part of my life story. Even that, doesn't seem to motivate them, to BEHAVE BETTER, TOWARD ME; which, is REALLY ALL I WANT. Just to be TREATED BETTER, than I have been, on many occasions, since I moved here. >sigh< It is what it is. We, all, have to decide, individually, and, as a community, if this is what we REALLY WANT IT TO BE. After all, it BELONGS to ALL OF US. I don't know what people here will decide to do, BUT I HAVE FAITH, in our future, here. Not because of THEM, or ME, necessarily, but because the ONE thing that I KNOW FOR SURE is that, GOD BROUGHT ME HERE, in the course of doing a MIRACLE for me! The Bible says that, He desires that I BE BLESSED, and tells me in ...

Jeremiah 29:11: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you a future and a hope.

MY FAITH AND HOPE are in THE LORD.

Amen.

Deb

 

A Quick Note To My Readers

Dear Readers,

I have been extremely busy, for the last couple of months, and I have the bruises, cuts and body pain to testify to that fact. I have made so much progress, but I am the only person here, to take care of everything that needs to be done. I feel very run down, and burned out, as a result of that demand on my energy and ability. It was my hope to have a blog post here for you by tomorrow, but that isn't going to be happening. I have written some of it but not nearly enough, and I haven't been sleeping well at all, either, for weeks now. I only slept 4 hours last night (3-7 AM). I know I will publish a post here sometime this month (God Willing!) but I feel that I can't get that done this week, and do it any justice. I am so drained, and my first priority in life is simply to survive it. The post that I've begun writing this month is about how one person can affect us in multiple ways. It will also have some of my lyrics and poems that I have written to process some things that I've been feeling.

Thank you for your understanding and patience as I try to get some much-needed sleep, and continue working on the April blog post, which will be running late, now.

Deb

'Mr. Right': The Heartache And The Hope

I've never met my 'Mr. Right', since, it has never, really, worked out, with anyone. 

At this point, I seriously wonder if God even made a man that is meant to love me.

Almost all of the ones who have wanted me have been men I am not interested in.

The, extremely limited, times that I have felt love, or lust, for a man, it ultimately just could not become anything viable, given the particular circumstances as they were. Life has been really cruel like that, for me. The heartache crushes my hope.

There's only been a couple of men who have gotten my heart to fully open up, to them, and I regretted that, because, once they got inside of it, they started to be disdainful toward me, after being attentive, and caring, up until then; breaking it. Why, do I seem to only meet men who mentally, emotionally, or physically, abuse me? Is that all there is, in the male population, or am I somehow being a magnet for these men? It is almost impossible for me to trust any man now. The last one that I loved I fell for without even meaning to, because he was fun and funny and attentive and caring once I got to know him, but now I view him as being another abuser and it's really taken a toll on me. As I struggle to get myself free of all the emotional turmoil that this sad situation has brought into my life I have called the Veterans Crisis Line so many times about it, as I try to cope with the aftermath of it, that I have become a regular caller. I am so glad they are there for me, but I'd so much rather not be in crisis over a clown who seems clueless about the effect, this has had, on me. I'm devastated for so many reasons, because this happened to my heart. This is not something that I expected or wanted to have to deal with at this point in my life. There is nothing worse than getting, publicly, browbeaten, several times, now, over feeling something that, I did not want, or expect to feel, in the first place. I feel so fragile right now and not at all up to dealing with more blows about it, which I shouldn't have to be subjected to, because I am not doing anything, at all, to deserve to be called out and chastised for it. I just use all that to fuel the anger, that smolders in my soul, which has been eroding the emotions, I had toward this man, so that it will kill it off in me, once and for all! I want that. The more, I am angry, about it, the more it destroys my positive feelings, toward this person. Seeing the treatment of me as emotional and mental abuse helps me. It would be much more difficult to get over them if they weren't being such a jerk.

Mutual love just never seems to align, for me. Because of my experiences dealing with men, I have been-- and I still am!-- extremely happy being single. Men have been a huge disappointment in my life. A woman's heart wants her man to be her hero, but the reality is that men can really be far from that, in everyday life. We-- or at least me-- give up wishing they were all that we long for them to be, and at least get off their ass which is parked in front of their video game or sports show, and take the trash out; or put the toilet seat down, or stop snoring!  I've also had enough men in bed with me to know, due to this 'representative sampling', of the male population, that the majority are only average as lovers, some are seriously lacking in skill, and very few are the stuff romance novels and the Fifty Shades of Grey movies allude to, as leaving us breathless, and, totally, tamed into a blissful submission by their seductive skillset. While, I much prefer staying single, due to my experiences as a married woman being so very disappointing and distressing, I'd like to have a lover in my life now even though a vibrator admittedly beats out every man that I have ever had sex with, except for one. My second husband Jim. I remember, thinking that, if I died and went to Heaven, it could not possibly feel any better than my being, under the spell of, his tantalizing talent at lovemaking!

That man became the standard that I set, for having sex, in my off-and-on-again search for a man who could get me to that same point, of pure pleasure. My first husband (who was also named Jim), was not at all good in bed. Since he was my very first experience of sex, I was bewildered, that THIS was the glorified human experience that people constantly clamored for. I avoided having sex with him all that I could, because it was so unsatisfying. THAT is an understatement. It didn't help that he was very unimpressive, both in and out of bed. There was NOTHING that attracted me to him. It was not until I was with my second husband Jim that  I finally knew what all the fuss was about, regarding sex, love, and what it is that a man and a woman can do for one another. I remain grateful to him, to this day, for giving me my sex education. He turned me on in a way I can still access after all these years. I smolder and sizzle from the sheer sensuality of it, although it is my vibrators that take me over the finish line now because as I said at the outset  I have never been blessed to find 'Mr. Right'; or him, find me. It's the ONE thing I still want to have in my life that's been missing from my fulfillment factor. It's not looking at all likely at this point, though, which bums me out bigtime. In this post I'm sharing something I wrote to my first husband and something that I wrote to my 'Mr. Right', whom I've clearly never encountered. I have such a deep capacity for passion, with the right person, that I feel it is a true tragedy I have no human outlet to express it. God bless, the merciful person who invented vibrators! If not for them, I would have lost my mind from all the pent-up passion I have no other outlet for. While it has its limitations, doing that, always, puts a smile on my face!

The Bible Belt*, which both my first husband, Jim, and I were raised in seems set on strangling many, normal, human desires out of a person in its quest to impose a strict (and often very hypocritical) piety on the adherents. This tightly buttoned up** behavior was reflected in Jim's approach to me, which I really resented. We never had sex any other way than in the 'Missionary Position'***. Even the name of it is so puritanical! There was no spontaneity, no adventure, no exploration, no fun, having sex with him. I didn't know that he was bad in bed, because I had no one else to compare it to, but when I met, my second, Jim he not only turned me on but he set me free to fully embrace my female sexuality without judgement or inhibition. The bed was our playground, and we spent most of our hours together there, reveling in the joy of our mutual and well-matched passion. To this day, he is unforgettable, for me, over 40 years later, because of his skill, in lovemaking. I did not know what was wrong, in my relationship with my first husband, Jim, that caused me to avoid sex with him, for the majority of our marriage. I only knew, it didn't feel good, and I didn't enjoy doing it with him, so I tried to get out of it. His mentality didn't only affect us in bed though. His rigid mindset stifled me at every turn. It felt like my very soul was kept under House Arrest, as he constantly tried to hold me back, and keep me down, so that I was unable to blossom into myself. It was such a relief, to me, when that marriage finally ended. I had gone from my parents' house into this marriage with him and had never been on my own before that. As I moved into my very first apartment, I felt lost, at first. I was totally out of touch with my own, unique, identity, because I'd never been allowed to have it, either by my parents or by Jim. It took me years to really find my own voice, and speak my mind, with the assurance that I had the absolute right to do so. I smile, as I think about that now, because once I finally found my voice, to speak up and speak out, anybody that knows me can tell you that, I NEVER STOP using it! Even this blog attests to that. I wrote this to my first husband, 45 or so years ago now:

Jim:

You've made me ashamed of my human need,

You've made me afraid to act upon my inner voids**** and urges.

You've imprisoned me & chained me to you alone with your jealousy-- which destroys everything beautiful in life, frightens or hastens it all away.

You've destroyed my dreams; made me feel wrong, hopeless, sinful to dream; put price tags on all my worldly aspirations or talked of why my dreams are impractical or impossible. It is no wonder I am dead & despondent inside; one cannot live without one's dreams.

My inner self seeks fulfillment of its needs, tries to act upon its needs to define itself, to come to know itself & find peace in realizing gratification of its needs. Yet in fear & jealousy, that I need more than you are & you offer, to fulfill my human voids, you try to brainwash me, dictate to me, your rules that apply to me (but not yourself) so that I am bound too tight with them to step from your rule, your domination of my life. You keep me from sunlight; I am withering. You try to water me alone, but I need the sunlight from outside too.

You don't inspire growth within me, or any maturing. [NOTE: He married me when I was only 18 years old. Just a teenager! He, was 27.] I am convinced you are the worst thing possible for me in my life. I don't need you.

Four years of my life were tied up in that loveless marriage. I do not want to EVER be MARRIED again-- legally chained to someone by a piece of paper, that a lawyer needs hundreds of dollars to undo, if it's bad. I AM monogamous though, and I do want to find, one, special man, to be with! I also don't want to live with anyone at this point in my life, though. I LIKE being SINGLE! I PREFER living ALONE! In alot of ways, I am just not a 'typical' female, including because I am very cerebral but also sexually hot-blooded. Besides all that, I am not religious, but I am extremely spiritual. There's always ALOT going on with me, both inside and out, but, despite all that, God has always been at the core of who I am and He's the reason for my existence. He decided that Deb (me) was a good thing to put on the earth, at this particular time in human history, and so here I am; still trying to connect with my purpose for being on the planet. >sigh!< At this point, I don't know if I EVER will, given the way life has been going for me, so far. Lately, I am just proud of myself for not giving up on life altogether. My brother killed himself (I wrote a blog post, about him, and about that, previously). I was told that my father attempted to do that too, at some point, when I was just a child. I have chosen to survive, alot, in my life, and it's all taken a huge toll, on me. Hence, my blog being titled, "Ascent Through The Dark Night Of The Soul: My Life Reflections". What helps me to keep going is being grateful. Gratitude for God's goodness to me gets me through most of the tempest and the turmoil. When even that does not lift my spirits, music will almost always elevate my mood. My other, 'Go To', coping mechanism is using my vibrator. Puts me right to sleep, grinning like a possum, and giggling with glee like a schoolgirl, EVERY TIME. There is nothing like 'NO FAIL' ORGASMS. With men, it's never a sure thing. Having dark chocolate around to nibble on doesn't hurt either!

I really am not sure if God made a man meant for me. I have had more men want me than most women ever do, and several even married me. But I still don't think that I have EVER been 'LOVED WELL'. My second husband (the second Jim) was a great LOVER, but he did NOT love me the way that I have needed to be loved, out of bed. That has alot to do with why I divorced him even though he was GREAT in bed. When I was sorting through all my old, saved, mementos last Autumn, I saw a, lengthy, letter that I had written on some notebook paper. Apparently I poured my heart out in it to someone, somewhere, that I still have never met to this day. I wrote this letter sometime in 2008, so I was 52.  My beloved cockatiel,  CeeBee, was still in my life, at the time that I wrote this, but he died almost a dozen years ago, now. I'm transcribing the letter word for word exactly as I wrote it. Here it is:

Open Letter To My Man From God   

(who hasn't found me yet, or vice versa)

     The two most significant relationships in my life are with my God and with my bird. Because of their unconditional, never-failing love for me, they have my undying gratitude/loyalty. With people it's harder-- way harder-- both to be loved unconditionally & to love unconditionally. In fact, the high divorce rate & other social indicators show that really, with humans, that's either very, very rare or just totally impossible. Knowing that my God is the One I have asked to send 'the' man He designed for me gives me courage and peace & when I feel dubious there even IS anyone like you. I remind myself that God gives us the desires within our heart, & that my feelings about you are part of His GPS (Godly Positioning System) that will help me to 'recognize' you as you when you finally manifest physically in my life.

     I often tell CeeBee, my bird boy, that one of the very BEST reasons I KNOW HOW MUCH God Loves ME is that out of ALL the 'mommies' that have ever lived on this Earth, He let me be HIS 'mommy'! The other night, as I prayed asking God to bring 'you' into my life to be a family with God, CeeBee, and I, I thought to myself that I would know it is 'you' finally here in my life when I can say that I can tell God Loves me because out of ALL the women in the world God created 'you' to love ME. When some things feel 'right', you know-- just as you feel when something is not right. . . . I have told God often that as much as I am intimate, passionate, & 'in love' with Him, I am incapable of loving ANY man unless I REALLY can SEE that He (God) is living in him and looking at me through Jesus' (eyes of) love living in him. There is NO other way it can or will happen. I haven't dated now for several years-- I could have; I just didn't WANT to. I don't EVER want 'a' man just to have 'a' man. Actually, MUCH of my life NOW has been better NOT having one (compared to having a WRONG one, for me). There is ONLY ONE man that I EVER want. He is unique. He is special. He is a God-designed one-of-a-kind, complementary to (how God designed) me. Except for 'you' I will otherwise remain single, humanly speaking, as God is my Husband now already, as the Bible declares, & I just wouldn't make a place in my life or heart for anyone less than my true 'soulmate' because I've been-there-done-that, & it was NOT worth it. I am actually really happy being celibate and single. I have been both those things for years now, and the man God would design for me would find that to be important to us both. I am not about just having sex with someone else while waiting for the 'right' mate because you bring all that to the table . . . and the bedroom. 

     I'm VERY different from 'most' women in MANY SIGNIFICANT ways. . . . I am NOT 'business as usual' for the most part, although I AM a woman so I DO possess 'female' traits and attributes.

     When I was a little girl in NC I grew up going to school with the Lt. Governor's twin girls. By the time we were pre-teens, their father was elected Governor of the state, & we slid down the big banisters in the Governor's Mansion and played pranks on the security detail and house staff. As a young woman I turned down Nanny jobs with famous and rich employers based on weighing ALL factors of the situation. I don't get the clamoring to be around them nor am I ever deeply impressed with the high profile of their public lives or positions. They get headaches, diarrhea, gas, bad breath, and are imperfect just like ALL the REST of us. I was a Nanny for a Washington power player & his wife once. Photos of this man at oval tables at the U.S. president's side were in their home office. I flew with them from East to West coast just for them to go to a wedding they were invited to. When you're a live-in Nanny you REALLY KNOW people during their REAL life 'Down Time' and it is NOT glamorous even if it takes place within the walls of a mansion. PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE! Truly!

     I am a regular-looking woman-- middle-aged now, at that. I 'fix up well' (a guy once told me!) to 'attractive' but I am NOT (physically) 'beautiful'! I would never WANT a Brad Pitt or some such guy that women are idiots over because he would ALWAYS-- committed or not, to me & our relationship-- have Angelina Jolies that ARE (physically) beautiful WORKING to wedge in between us, & I don't want to ALWAYS have to wonder . . . on a 'weak' day-- when we've had a disagreement or can't be together-- whether he will give in to her or initiate such a betrayal himself. There is too much at stake. Diseases can kill now. And I DON'T need another man in my life just to have MY heart broken and my life and home turned upside down again. . . . 

     So with ME-- as we're talking about MY man here-- it won't be held FOR you or AGAINST you if you have power, fame, or money. All that's an EQUAL playing field, to me, because of who I am, my life experiences; all that I have done & seen in my own life. I don't WANT a 'Pretty Boy' OR an UGLY boy. I want a regular-to-attractive-enough looking man, physically, who is healthy & fit & does NOT have EITHER bulging 'jock' muscles OR a 9-months-pregnant 'gut' hanging over his belt.

     It would not 'work' with a sports nut who has to park in front of a TV for every game. I want someone I can grow a backyard vegetable garden with, side-by-side in the soil, and go on a picnic with where the bread is fresh home-baked & the tomatoes & lettuce on the sandwiches we grew ourselves. Squire Rushnell and his wife wrote on couples praying together-- you must do that with me. My little bird boy MUST be a 'little one' you will interact with, protect, and enjoy-- telling me he's drowned because you left the toilet seat up, knowing he was out of the cage & has full flight, & you fell asleep on the sofa WON'T CUT IT and IS A DEAL BREAKER FOR SURE! 'Little ones' MUST be considered, cared for, & PROTECTED, and I DO NOT WANT a STUPID man! I've met far too MANY 'stupid' men, & I will NOT suffer another STUPID man in my life. Example: If you think it's FUNNY that other men risk death, & leaving their wives widowed & children fatherless, because some IDIOT hang glides into a narrow gorge and gets STUCK halfway down its rock wall-- JUST FOR KICKS AND GIGGLES-- which the financially-strapped local citizens have to PAY THOUSANDS FOR a massive rescue effort involving a dozen people for hours so this IDIOT can be safely rescued to then just walk away & laugh, planning his NEXT attempt-- MOVE ON!!! NOW!!! You are STUCK ON STUPID and are NOT ANY MAN I would E-V-E-R have in MY life, even if we were the LAST two people on OUR PLANET! There are TOO MANY STUPID GUYS! GEEZ! They DISGUST ME! Truly!

     Whether you live in the canyons of NYC (I love NYC!) or just a LITTLE farm where the crickets are the symphony after dark is IRRELEVANT to me. I can dress up or dress down, clean up or get dirty. If you want to go green & live simply along the lines of Henry David Thoreau at Walden's Pond or Ed Begley, Hollywood actor, I'm game to adapt. I DON'T like being in very TALL buildings. A few floors height is about all I'm comfortable with. I have slept on a floor covered by a piece of carpet to keep warm, [and] in luxurious mansions, and most levels in between. I have lived with the rich in their lifestyle to a shared extent. I have lived middle class and I have been poor enough to eat ketchup on a spoon because there WAS nothing else. I have had my own experience of 'fame', 'glamor', [having a] 'following', limos, when dancing on stage in nightclubs, for the entire spectrum of the male population. . . . I have lain face down on my livingroom floor, alone with my tears, pouring out myself before God because I am so HUNGRY to GO DEEPER with Him in our relationship and my heart ACHES to GET there!

     If you are so in love with Jesus that you would give me UP if you KNEW 'we' were NOT God's Will for one another, then YOUR priority matches MINE. If you are GENUINELY KIND, GROUNDED, appreciate SIMPLE things, no matter WHAT your lifestyle or economic level, and ARE NOT LIKE MOST MEN, and you KNOW it and are GLAD about it, you MIGHT be MY man from God.

     There's more I could write to you, but CeeBee needs me now to cook him some lunch, and LIVING THINGS (in our care) CAN'T WAIT! I've asked God to bring you NOW, and I've been turning away ALL others (even this week) because YOU are MY man from God and the ONLY one I want in my private, personal, life. And, I will KNOW you when you find me, through God's GPS, just as I 'recognized' CeeBee as mine when I FIRST MET HIM-- and we're 17 years, sharing goofy, passionate, intense LOVE now!

                                                             Yours in Christ our Lord,

                                                             me.

I wrote that 15 years ago, and I still have not ever met this man, so I don't know whether he exists or not, but the odds, of that, are not in my favor. Therefore, all things considered, I am going to focus on finding a man that's good company and makes me laugh, who makes me feel safe with him, and never abuses me, in any way, shape, or form. THAT is going to be hard enough, for me, to find. That is the only thing I don't have in my life that I feel like I need, to be as happy as possible in my remaining years on the planet. I still have so much passion in me, and such a capacity to laugh, and play, and have fun, that it would be a waste, not to share those things, about me, with someone special. The smile's been wiped off my face by being mistreated, and I don't laugh nearly enough anymore. I miss 'me', and I want to get back to feeling like my happy self, again. To get there, I need to have better relationships in my life, and not just with a man that will become my lover.  I have been shocked at how many people-- almost all, of whom, claim to be good Christians-- have treated me so very badly, rather than be compassionate, loving, or merciful toward me. I have no desire to be anything like them or to have them in my life. Alot of people on social media sites talk about this often, saying that it turns them off, to anything to do with God, seeing how, these 'religious' folk treat others. I am to the point that, I would be much more comfortable standing before God in my sinful state than being in the presence of the so-called 'Christians' with their piety. Their behavior, and treatment of me, has alot to do with my becoming how I am, now. I could care less, about their holier-than-thou judgements, of me. I think they really ought to be more concerned about God's Judgement of them. I have to stand before Him for my sins someday and they're accountable for theirs.

All I know, right now, is that, my 'Mr. Right' never showed up, in my life, and my heart is so broken, now, that anyone, I can find, who will just treat me well, and make me laugh, would be a great improvement, in my life. So, that is my goal. I know it would help squelch the rumors, too, that are rampant, because of people gossiping about me. Isn't it funny, that Christians don't seem to ever think about the fact that, THEIR, GOSSIP, is ALSO a SIN, in God's eyes? I am just focused on living my life and their opinions of me really don't matter to me. If anything, that just pisses me off more, and makes me want to avoid having anything to do with any of them. I just don't need it. There's that saying, "If not now, when?" I need to focus on being as happy as I can, with what life IS giving me, and stop feeling sad about the things that it is not giving me. It really is 'Now or never' to live my life, and that's what I intend to do. I think, I've lost all hope, that 'Mr. Right' even exists, or is ever going to come into my life. So, I just need to make the best out of what possibilities there are, for me. It is what it is. Maybe I am just unlovable.

Dare I hope?

Maybe Tina Turner was right . . . .

What's love got to do, got to do with it?
What's love but a second hand emotion?
What's love got to do, got to do with it?
Who needs a heart when a heart can be broken?

https://www.google.com/search?sxsrf=APwXEdffhuVPO7eohUVMpTLJ0_vGHkIcuw:1679886901193&source=lnms&tbm=vid&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjLo4iwkvv9AhU3LUQIHaFVC5QQ0pQJegQIBxAC&q=what%27s%20love%20got%20to%20do%20with%20it%20lyrics&biw=1865&bih=908&dpr=1.03#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:f705f22f,vid:mw78mrc6K5A  

*The Bible Belt is a region of the Southern United States in which socially conservative Protestant Christianity plays a strong role in society. Church attendance across the denominations is generally higher than the nation's average.

** buttoned up: reserved or inhibited 

*** Missionary Position: The Random House Unabridged Dictionary (second edition) explains that it was “so-called because it was allegedly favored by Christian missionaries working among indigenous peoples, in preference to positions in which the man approaches the woman from behind.”

**** void: an unfilled space in a wall, building, or other structure.
an emptiness caused by the loss or lack of something.

A Message To My Readers

Dear Readers,

I am leaving you this update regarding my March blog post, as I can see several of you checking in, for the latest post, and finding it is not yet online. As of today, I haven't actually started writing it yet, although I have decided to do an additional post of my memorabilia, that I set aside when I sorted all my old papers and mementos last Autumn. I came across something I wrote to the man that I dreamed of finding one day-- or finding me-- whom I apparently have never met, to this day, sadly. It was titled "Open Letter To My Man From God" and was written a long time ago, because it references my beloved cockatiel, CeeBee, as being in my life, then, who was with me on this earth for almost 20 years, before he flew home to Heaven the summer of 2011. I also found something I wrote to my first husband-- my half-first cousin, whom I married after he sexually assaulted me and I thought he had taken my virginity when I was unconscious after he got me drunk for the first time in my life. I was 18! I was divorced by the time I was only 22. I never loved him. In many ways I actually loathed him. Back then, times were so different, though, that I felt that I had no choice but to wed the man who took my virginity-- or so I had thought he did, until I found out, after we were married, that he had made my hymen bleed, before, by starting to penetrate me with his penis, but had not fully broken through it, until we were married, and then it was too late. What a heartbreaking way to lose your virginity, and start a marriage, and so many other sad things, from that, that it set me on the course for, in my life. I wrote blog posts about him previously, if you want to read up on this relationship. The thing that I found in my memorabilia, that I wrote to/about him, is very telling, about that relationship. I will transcribe both those things verbatim, that I set aside to share in my March post.

As far as when that will be published online, I am not sure. I had hoped to have it here by tomorrow, but this month has been extremely busy for me, and still is, with alot of projects that I have to get done on a somewhat strict deadline. The Blogger website shows me what country my readers are in (62 countries now!) and if my readers have accessed my blog, today, this week, etc., but not your actual identities. I have seen some of my regular readers' countries in those stats several times this month, though, so I didn't want to leave you hanging; unsure of what is going on. That's why I wanted to take a few minutes to write you all this note, explaining that, I am alive and well, just really busy right now in my current life. I do feel fairly sure that I can get the blog post written and online no later than this coming weekend, though, unless something unforeseen happens. So, I recommend you look for my March post around March 25th or 26th.

Also, I hope to share some more of my poems and lyrics that I have written; either this month, or in April's post. My writing-- whichever form it takes-- comes from a very personal place, so it is always autobiographical, in some way or other, manifesting what I am thinking and feeling-- or DID think and feel, since some of those things I wrote helped me to get certain things, and certain people, out of my system. Writing helps me put things in perspective, when I am processing my varied thoughts and emotions, such as about relationships, etc. It has always been very cathartic for me.

'Mister Right' never found me. “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” . . . .

[NOTE: This post disproves the MYTH that 'MEN are NOT EMOTIONAL creatures'.]

In honor of Valentine's Day this month I am sharing some of the things that men have written to me over the years, which I had packed away, with all of my other memorabilia, that I sorted a few months ago. The emotions, men claimed to feel, for me, in these cards and letters, were saved as my reminder that I had at least gotten under their skin, if not in their hearts. It's so ironic that a woman who has had so many, superficial, chances at 'love' has still to this very day never had the deep, true, love, that I had simply expected, when I was younger, and even cried out to God for; apparently to no avail. Because of my being in the military, which is largely populated by males, and working as a dancer in nightclubs, for years, I have met and talked to and gotten to know thousands of men in my lifetime. Yet, out of all those men who have come through my life in some capacity there have only been two who have unlocked my very careful heart, and neither one of them wanted my heart. That is why I say that I have not found love. Being 'in love' has to be a two-way street for it to matter. The closest, I have ever come, to, mutual, love was with my second husband. The one I described in several of my posts as, 'the one man that I would love forever'. I honestly think that, our love was based on our intense, and incessant, sexual chemistry with one another, though; not on any, deeply shared, values, or goals. I view men as having been a quantity-over-quality let down for me throughout my life. I finally cut my losses and quit trying.

The following things are being transcribed here verbatim and the writer of each is identified, along with a little background on the person and/or on my relationship with them, although, I can't recall many of these men, who wrote these things to me. I've often felt that men say such things as are in these cards and letters just to try to 'sweet talk' a girl into bed with them. With that being my mindset about alot of what men say and do, causing all of it to be suspect, then, I probably just chalked up most of these statements they made to me to their being more horny than loving and let it go at that, as being something more superficial than special.

Even though it may be an ego trip that so many men made such a fuss over me I would gladly have traded all of it and more to have been truly loved, by one good man. I have NEVER known what THAT feels like; and knowing how my life's been, in that area, I fully expect to stay single for the rest of my life; using my vibrator, while, trying, to remember what laying there with another human being feels like. It has been decades since I have done that. Men. They have either been 'feast or famine' in my life, only the 'feast' seemed like JUNK FOOD that would have never satisfied my soul. Maybe I didn't give some of them enough of a chance with me. They seemed nice enough, on the surface. But 'chemistry' comes into play with a romantic connection, and clearly I just wasn't feeling that with ANY of these men.

The cards

Some of the notes that men wrote to me in the cards, pictured above, are below:

John responded to a personal ad that I placed

John and I dated very briefly. He was an Air Force officer. He responded to a personal ad that I placed in the local paper (how we met people before the internet and singles' dating websites, etc.) I had written that I wanted an intelligent man with an education, because I was tired of guys who couldn't discuss deeper issues in this world, and John told me that was what he really liked about my honest personal ad, and responded to. I just didn't feel 'safe' with him, alone, in person, and I don't know why. My spirit just felt disquieted within me, when I was around him, and I didn't continue to date him long enough to find out why. I just trusted my gut that he was not 'Mr. Right' for ME, and moved on.

My actual Personal Ad, from the local newspaper Bellevue Leader, was tucked inside this card from John and is yellowed with age. The date on the piece of newspaper says September 30, 1992. Under the "Personals" column in the paper, my ad read, "ATTRACTIVE WHITE female, slim, 5'9", blue eyed brunette that's outgoing, open, intelligent Christian with a spontaneous personality and a sense of humor SEEKS intelligent, college educated, non-smoking mature white male in 30s or 40s that's good company. Must be: communicative, not closed or moody, enthusiastic about life; honesty a must! NO GAMES! This lady enjoys stimulating verbal debates, eating out and has a wide range of interests including travel, music and reading. Photos appreciated. Write to: Box Holder, P.O. Box 1083, Bellevue, NE 68005-1083."

He sent me this card, during our very brief relationship, though. The printed card face read: Know what's special about you? Everything! In fact, it would really be impossible to single out one thing I like best about you. . . because everything about you is so great. Your smile, your way of talking, your way of understanding me . . . not to mention your great looks, and how fun you are to be with. It all adds up to one great person-- somebody I really like a lot! John added this note, "With great affection, your friend John". There's a gold gift card stamped "VICTORIA'S SECRET London" and a note inside it saying, "For Deborah The most special person in my life, and a good friend. John", but I have no memory of what gift he bought me from there. 

He enclosed a lengthy, handwritten, note, in the greeting card, also, which said:

John Adams

"Dear Debora[h]

         I feel, in such a short time I've grown very close to you. The affection I have for you is very real, and so intense I don't have words to properly describe it. I trust you and enjoy the time we spend together very much. 

        I'm not looking for a wife or a lover. I'm in search of a real friend to share my life with. I really think I've found her-- You!

        I can't help but wonder if in some small way we were brought together as an answer to some of our prayers. At least for me you are the answer to one of my prayers.     

        I hope in some way I can help answer some of your prayers. I will do anything I can for you. There really isn't any way I can repay the happiness you've already brought into my life, but I need to try.

        I'll always be here when you need me.

                                                               Your friend

                                                               John

[NOTE: John was ALL talk and VERY LITTLE substance. We didn't date long at all.]

Some of the cards, notes, and letters, from men during my dancer days

My main dancer alias, that I went by, for years, was 'Stevie'

I met Grant while I was working at Lipstix in Council Bluffs, Iowa. He was in sales and traveled his, multi-state, route, selling embalming supplies to funeral parlors, but he lived in Minnesota. He was married. We were never involved, romantically, or sexually, but it was clear, by the things, he said, and did, that he wanted to be. He reminded me of my father and even had the same last name, which deepened that perception I had of him. He had to stay in motels and eat out on his route so he asked me to eat dinner with him when his travels brought him back to Omaha again. All I ever did was eat out with him. He said he would appreciate having my company. One Sunday morning he called me, though, when he was home with his family, in Minnesota, for the weekend, and told me that he had stayed home, and sent them on to church, without him, because he wanted to call me. I realized he wanted more than a dinner companion, from me, then, and I didn't want to break his heart, or wreck his life, so I didn't encourage him in it. [The printed card face] "Getting to know you is really alot of fun for me.  No matter what we do or where we go, I know I'll have a good time. Maybe that's because we never have to work at it. When  we're  together,  good times just happen naturally.  Being with you is something I always look forward  to, and  the  times  we  spend  together  always leave me feeling in a happy mood.  You're a nice person.  I  like  you.  And I  just wanted to tell you so." [Part of the handwritten note, inside, from Grant]  ". . . . I needed to sen[d] this card to thank you for your friendship. I pray every day that I  won't  do  anything  that  will  scare you away. I am looking forward to hearing more chapters. . . ."

Another card from Grant was a birthday card to my cockatiel, CeeBee-- my bird baby-- but he added a note to it, which included "Give your mama a big kiss for me- She is a wonderful lady".

Tim, was one of my 'Call Girl' customers, when I was involved in that, for a very short span of time near the end of my dancing when I worked as an undercover informant, for the Omaha Police Department. Tim was a married man. I REALLY did not want to bring that up again, here in this post, as I have already covered that [https://ascentthroughthedarknightofthesoul.blogspot.com/2021/11/twin-franklins-price-of-prostitution.html] and it was a low point in my life in so many ways. A definite 'dark night of the soul' for me. I sat here, debating, whether to 'sanitize' who he, actually, was, in his relationship with me, in this post, but the truth is the truth. It is what it is. I decided to go ahead, and include it, again, in the context of this post's particular subject matter, because knowing this is very instructive for the average person, who is most likely very naive, as I used to be on this subject, of who the men are, who hire prostitutes; and will, therefore, be shocked, at the reality of the situation. Try to comprehend if you can, something that REALLY SHOCKED ME about the men who engage in this. They are sitting in the church pews, on Sunday mornings, next to their wives. In fact, the man who  is in the pulpit giving the sermon from God's Word, may be someone buying sex services. I honestly thought I could tell by looking at men, if they were the 'type' to seek such relationships, but there truly is no type, that someone can pinpoint. Men, are able to compartmentalize their lives, in a way women can't seem to do. That is the best way that I can explain how this happens, even with, 'good' men. 

My customers ALL appeared to be truly nice, 'salt of the earth', guys. You would have NEVER SUSPECTED that they paid for sex. Some of them, were single, but some were married. Only they know their reasons for doing this. Besides my not being able to tell just by looking at them, the other thing that shocked me came from my erroneous assumption that the married ones must be in bad marriages and hate their wives, but that was not at all true! They talked about their wives, and kids, openly, and even spoke, lovingly, of their spouses. It didn't even really sound like they were driven to it, out of any particular 'unmet need' they had. It just seemed more like they were simply curious and wanted 'different'. I recall a maintenance man, at an apartment that I lived in, decades later, starting to talk about how he loved his wife, but that he wondered to himself, when he was in a woman's apartment, fixing something on their Work Order, what it might be like  to just have sex with them because, as he put it himself, he just wanted to know  if somebody else 'did it different', than his wife did it with him. Simple 'curiosity'. He had a very attractive young wife, and was a devoted married man and father. 

Back to Tim, and the cards that he seemed to enjoy picking out and giving to me. One has nothing on the front but a sweet photo of a white Labrador puppy sitting in a tin pail that's hanging on a fencepost. The inside is printed with these words: Without you I'm a pail version of my usual self. Tim wrote "Miranda* Just wanted to let you know how much I look forward to  talking to you and seeing you again.  I truely enjoy your company  and I'm hopeful that I'll get to know you  in a more intimate way. You are an  incredibly lovely person, both inside  and out!  See you soon, Tim."  It appears to be one that he wrote to me when we were just getting to know one another, sitting and talking at the Backdoor Lounge, where I worked. 

Tim brought me another card for our first 'date'. Because there was NO REASON that he NEEDED to romance ME, in the situation, I found it to be both surprising, and touching, that he did.  Maybe men really aren't just looking for sex.  Maybe, like alot of women do, men miss the romance, too. He handed me this card, and the front of it read, "I think of you often  but sometimes forget  that the thought  doesn't  count  if you don't know it yet", and the printed inside said, "So here's a 'Hello' that's intended to say you've been on my mind, especially today!" Then he added, "ESPECIALLY Today!! Tim." and then, over to the side of that, "Miranda, I hope this  experience is as rewarding  and fulfilling for you as I am sure it will be for me. Tim." I added my own note to the card, later, that said, "6-4-98 $200.00  in this card for 1st 'pro' w/Tim 2 roses were w/card". He took me to dinner, first. 

Another card from Tim had a front that read: "When you're not here, I just can't seem to get on top of things." Inside it said, "you, for  example." Adding a note, inside, Tim wrote "Miranda, I saw this card and thought it somehow appropriate. I'm hoping you are looking forward to the 29th as much as I am, to remedy this situation. Thinking of you, Tim"

I'm sitting here feeling so sad, as I relived those memories from that dark time. I feel tears in my eyes. If you read my post about the prostitution (the link to it, is included, above) I referred to Tim as "Greg", in that post. I don't recall why, now, but I think it was because I honestly could not remember his name, until, I came across these old cards that he gave to me 25 years ago, as I was sorting through all my mementos, that document my life story. I haven't had sex with anyone, at all, since then. I had three TRULY AWFUL kisses, with a man, last summer, that I never should have kissed (and that was MY FAULT, for doing that, not his), which was the first, and only, time, I have kissed ANY man on the mouth, since my last marriage ended when I was in my 30s! It was also the only physical exchange of any sexual nature I've done in the last 25 YEARS of my life. Pathetic, I know, but true, nevertheless, whether you believe that or not. It seems that, if I stood right in front of Cupid, so his arrow would HAVE TO hit me, IT WOULD MISS somehow.

It may not seem like it, but I have been single, uninvolved, and celibate for most of my adult life including now. There REALLY is just not ANY man that is not more TROUBLE than THEY ARE WORTH. I literally THANK GOD on a regular basis that I am SINGLE! I have felt this way for decades. I enjoy laughing and having fun but  I don't want a man in my private life because I NEED PEACE and they disappoint, anger, and annoy me, so often. I don't have the energy or desire to deal with the CRAP, they bring, into MY life. It is TOO STRESSFUL, and not a good enough ROI.

Paper bar napkins were always handy to have around, as communication devices. Club customers, who left the bar with a dancer's coveted personal phone number, scribbled on a napkin they tucked away for safekeeping, in their wallet or pocket, 
were certainly grateful for those. Sometimes notes were written on them like this one to me from a, Jewish, club customer, whom I was using Yiddish phrases with throughout our chat, which I had learned from a gentleman who was a patient of mine in the hospital, when I was in nursing. Mel used the word "meshuga", and I am someone who has NEVER wanted to 'dull my shine', just to blend in, with the crowd, so I considered it a compliment! Mel and I had bantered back and forth in between my having to go up on stage to perform, and I know he meant it kindly!

Below, is a photo of some more old bar napkins. Tissue-like pieces of paper, that captured some of the moments, from my days working as a dancer, in the clubs. It's hard to see his faded signature, as Josh got right to the point, with me. I do not remember him at all out of the thousands of men that I met and talked to in these places, over the years, but I had an impact on him, that night at the bar. I likely saved it for someday when I was a gray-haired old lady, as I am now, just  to reassure myself that there was a time in my life when I was young, attractive, and desirable, enough that, a young man would write a note to me, on a napkin, that said, "I want you BAD!" The other 3 napkins are just lipstick 'kisses' of mine that I would do and give to the club customers, as 'souvenirs' of their visit to the club, and their conversation, with me; hoping, they would be reminded to return.

I got a one page, typewritten, letter, from a club customer who signed it "Gary". I wrote a note at the top of this thing to remind me of some of the unsavory side of dealing with club customers. It wasn't all glamour and gentlemen, although some of it was. It was written to me, as "Miranda", which means it was near the end of my dancer career, when I was working as an informant for the Omaha Police, and for the first time, in my entire dancing career,  I was doing some limited 'Call Girl' type of prostitution (NOT 'street walking'), specifically to sully my reputation, so I could get the criminals, and gang members and the dancers who hung with them to trust me enough to let me in on conversations and so forth. It worked but to a very limited extent and the price I paid for that, by grieving the Holy Spirit in me, was most definitely not worth it. This guy had sat with me on several occasions. I even had him coming up to me in the Old Market when I was off work. He tried to sit and talk with me there on my time off away from my job where I was required to talk to these men. I just walked away from him. He knew I wasn't into him. He was a 'sleazy, slimy' kind of just-really-gross guy. Other women, will know, what I mean, by that, but I don't know if men will know, what I mean. Maybe. Anyway, I wrote a note, to myself, at the top of this letter, that he typed, to me, which said:

"I got this from a (gross) club customer, that brought a plain, gray, ribbed turtleneck sweater into the Backdoor Lounge where I was a dancer, & then he thought for some sick reason he could actually sleep with me. I told him how health conscious I was (& safety, etc.), to put him off, & did; but, then, he gave me this & I kept it only as a reminder of how out-of-real[i]ty & gross & sick, etc., club customers can be. Ugh!"

Here is his letter to me as 'Miranda', in the bar where I worked as a dancer:

"Miranda,

          Thanks for hearty comments on Tuesday, December 23. How nice of you to be so kind to someone had given you something for Christmas and was kind enough to purchase your new costume. I will be sure to wear my gloves the next time I stop in as I wouldn't want you to pick up any strange viruses.

         I was touched to hear that you are pursuing other activities to earn a few extra dollars. I was thinking of giving you a picture of Grant just to help out during the holidays but I felt a little hurt as I walked out. [NOTE: I have blog readers in 62 countries now, not just the U.S., so for those of you who may not know, Grant is pictured on a $50.00 bill, and this jerk was trying to wave a 'lost' tip in my face because I refused to 'accommodate' him. As for his reference to my 'earning a few extra dollars' for my doing prostitution, I was paid $200.00-- twin Franklins, which are hundred dollar bills, plus taken out to eat, and sometimes drinks, as well, plus the men paid for a motel or a hotel room. Some even brought me flowers, and gifts! So, all-in-all, they spent at least several hundred dollars to be with me; each time. I also had repeat/regular customers, even though I only did this for a very short time, who KNEW the 'product' they were getting, after the first time with me, and were more than willing to spend all of that again, to be with me. So, this jerk that wrote me this is what my Twitter friends would call 'a whiny little bitch'. Plus, NONE of my customers that I slept with were GROSS like him. They were nice, clean, guys-- who even used CONDOMS, for me-- and STILL really liked it.]  
            I was thinking of asking you out on New Year's Day for a little fun. I would have picked you up around 3:30 PM. We would have gone out for something to eat then checked into to a motel for some mutual sex (your fee is appropriate and would have been in an envelope). I was thinking of giving you a lovely body massage -beginning with your back, down across your lovely little ass, down your legs, turn you over and finish with your legs, then start with your breasts and nipples which I would gently kiss and caress, down across your tummy to your sweet little pussy which I would have licked your clit while my fingers would have stroked your pussy. After you had a nice little orgasm, I would have laid down on the bed and you could have climbed on and rode my cock (with rubber) until I too had an orgasm. You would then lay down at my side and we would have just hugged and I would have continued to your nipples and breasts. After we had wound down, we could have gotten dressed and I would have taken you back to your apartment. I was even thinking of getting you some nice lingerie just for yourself. A nice long sheer gown to sit around in and enjoy. 

        But alas, you probably wouldn't want to touch me unless you had on rubber gloves and we were in a tent with alcohol mist since I am so covered with germs and I must be carrying all kinds of unhealthy sexual viruses."

                                                                  (it was signed, Gary)

[NOTE: I wouldn't have EVER wanted to touch HIM, or HIM to touch ME, even if he was THE VERY LAST MAN ON EARTH, and, HELL had just FINALLY FROZEN OVER.]

NOTHING about that misogynistic, thinly-veiled-hostility, toward me, was in ANY way TITILLATING, or ENTICING to me. I have that same cringeworthy, icky feel, that I felt, the first time, I read that thing, just from having to reread it, now, to transcribe it, verbatim, into this blog post. It leaves me feeling like, I need to go take a shower, to wash his grossness off of me. I was never with him, nor would that have EVER happened with him. I even found his letter to be frightening. He seemed like that type of guy that would hurt you or worse if you ever fell for his bullshit; which I never did-- which is why he stayed so angry at me. He couldn't have me, and he was furious about that. He reminded me of creeps that torture women just to hear them scream and beg for their lives. When men I don't like, or sometimes, don't even know, or even those like Mark, below, that I did know well but wasn't at all attracted to, EXPRESS these EXTREMELY DETAILED PLANS, which they want to achieve with ME, that THEY ALREADY KNOW, are NOTHING I WANT, it's concerning to me. Even troubling. I saved the letter as an example of the dark side, of working as a dancer, in nightclubs. It was, dangerous, at times.

   

Good times, on the Air Force base

I have NO idea exactly where or how I met this man, but I think it was during the year that I was divorcing Tom but I still had my dependent ID to access the base.  I was fed up, with trying to commit to a man, and continually being disappointed, by them, in marriage, so that year I had a blast, playing the field and dating ALOT of different men. That song, 'It's Raining Men' (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l5aZJBLAu1E), was MY LIFE for that one, super fun year! I didn't have to try. I just walked onto the base any time day or night, and within minutes I had met a man, or two, or three or . . . . I didn't take a lover although I easily could have. I just enjoyed being wined, and dined, danced with, and desired, by so many men, because my attempts at marriage had always ended in heartbreak for me so I did not want to 'settle down' again with any guy, anytime soon. The closest I came to a 'steady' relationship that year was with an Air Force intelligence officer that was part of the crew on the Looking Glass**-- Edgar. Just now, after all these years, I Googled him, and there he was on my computer screen. The same guy, but white-haired now. It says he is the President and CEO of an organization in Washington, DC. He had an 'air' about him in more ways than one. He had "III" after his name and his family was very prominent, including, in military circles. But, the reason I broke up with him was because he would NOT WEAR DEODERANT!  He would call me up, from some Top Secret location up in the Looking Glass which he could not divulge to me, to arrange a dinner date with me at the Officers Club, for when he returned to base. He did shower, and put on a suit, for those occasions. But when He came straight to see me, still, in his flight suit, and he removed it, to cuddle, I could not get past the fact that, alot of body odor was released, into the air, when he did that. I asked him to shower, at my place, and I tried to discuss it with him, but he did not want to wear deoderant, and that, really, stunk up our relationship, to the point that I stopped seeing him, because of it. My luck at love just STINKS.

Sometimes, even literally.

>sigh<

I digressed into the thing about Edgar. I do have mementos from my time dating him, but they are several photos of us dressed up for dinner at the Officers Club, and I did not include them in this post. Below, is an elegant cardstock Christmas card, from a man that was in Britain's Royal Air Force at the time that we met at Offutt. Allies do fly into U.S. air bases and dock at navy ports, at times. Again, I  do not remember exactly how we met. Although I did drink and party some that year, I was mostly quite sober, but simply cannot recall him, after 35 years have passed give or take, including because I was seeing several men then and wasn't spending alot of time with any particular one of them, so I was spreading myself thin, socially speaking. This card has a navy blue grosgrain ribbon attached to it, and is embossed in silver, on the front. Inside Bob's squadron address is printed, and he wrote the note "Debbie, (I wasn't a dancer at the time so I was using my real name) such a dreamy voice! Bob. T". I don't know, his last name, to Google him, now, but I could contact the squadron, and ask them, if they can determine who "Bob T" was back then. After all these years I doubt that I will do it, though.  I did pull this article up on Google just now, which at least talks about Bob's unit, among alot of other things. It has some photographs of its location, and so forth. (https://www.flying-tigers.co.uk/2021/raf-scampton-corgi-aviation-archive-and-hobbymaster-new-model-arrivals/) I had other saved correspondences from Bob so he tried to develop a relationship with me for awhile, mostly through letters. I likely would have thought that, the distance of him living 'across the pond' would be too much of an obstacle to overcome.It seems that I never encouraged him to have a relationship with me, for some reason, and eventually his letters stopped.  I feel strangely sad about that now, because Bob wrote to me so enthusiastically. On the other hand because space is so limited in my home, which is why I sorted my mementos a few months ago, to narrow it down, from how many there were,  I think I threw away the stack of letters from Bob, without even rereading them, because there seemed to realistically be no point in sitting here doing that, now.

In a torn and faded envelope, with the barely visible postmark of "1980" on it, I found a lengthy letter, written to me, on pink paper, from Mark [P.]. I was in the Air Force myself then, stationed at Offutt AFB. "Amn Debbie Gray PSC #2 Offutt AFB, Nebraska 68113". The return address was an APO, in "New York 09127". I  do remember Mark. He lived in the coed dorm, I was assigned to, when I got to Offutt. He was extremely tall and lanky, awkward, and geeky-seeming. I wasn't attracted to him at all. I actually hid from him, at times, because he sought me  out so much. I felt sorry for him, but that was about it. It's sad that my life has gone like that. I'm not attracted to men like Mark that would give me the world and all their love if I would just be in a romantic relationship with them. Yet the extremely limited times I've ever felt love for a man, those relationships NEVER COULD HAVE WORKED OUT. So, Mark, Bob, and many others, over my lifetime, have felt disappointment on their end, but so have I on mine. It has just NEVER MATCHED UP for me. It is so bad that, I don't even trust my heart, to know who really is worth loving, or who might, truly, love me, well, if I let them. For ME, I, REALLY, have to FEEL a GENUINE attraction and connection and that's SO RARE, for me. I am not in love with anybody, now, and I am so disgusted, at how men treat me, that I doubt I will even want to open myself up, to anyone, again. All things considered I am actually alot happier with NO man in my life. I am SURE that I NEVER found 'the one'. Or at least I THINK I'm sure. Maybe, Michael. . . ?

Here is Mark's handwritten letter to me, when I was a young woman in the USAF:

                                                                                         September 2, 1980

Dear Debbie

       The moment I met you I knew that you were special. No other woman I ever met won me over as quickly or as completely as you did in the first minute of our first conversation. Being with you was like walking through Paradise.

       Of course, everywhere there was Jim***. I saw no purpose in trying to fight against him over you for two reasons. First, because I am a coward in matters such as this and felt that there was simply no way I could win you from him. Secondly, I believed that you belong to him, as he belonged to you, and I had no right to try and steal what belonged to another man. I resigned myself to just being your friend.

      Then I was cast out of Paradise. Why, I still don't know, but I guess you had your reasons, and maybe they were good ones.

      I was hurt that you were avoiding me. I was angry at you, but I knew inside myself that the real blame lay with me, I had failed you somehow, and I was really angry with myself. Outwardly, though, I was determined to ignore you and have nothing to do with you ever again.

                                                                                                                  2

     Yet everywhere I went you seemed to pop up out of nowhere and everytime I saw you I would feel chills and trembling and a racing heart. I knew then that I had feelings for you which would withstand anything you could do to me.

     I kept hearing things about you. The dormitory is a small world, everyone knows one another and people talk. I heard, true or false, that you had broken up with Jim. The next day at breakfast I approached you and aske you how you were. I wanted to comfort you in any way I could. If my plunging the biggest knife they have in that dining hall kitchen into my heart would have brought Jim back to you and you and he would then live happily ever after, I would have done it. But instead I fumbled with your hat and fumbled with your CDC book and fumbled with my mouth and felt like a fumbling fool. You withdrew from me, so I left quickly.

    A week or so passed, and again I heard rumors. The stories said that you were stripping in front of men in the dormitory, and that you had entered some kind of strip tease contest at some joint. [NOTE: This is TRUE. My entering the contest, anyway. Some male Air Force buddies took me with them to a stripper bar- my first time in one of those clubs- and 'to let off steam' I did enter the contest at the end of the night, along with other women who were there.] They

                                                                                                                  3

said that you were sleeping with Frank [B]. [NOTE: This is FALSE. I definitely did NOT sleep with Frank, although he had 'started to grow on me' at this point, until I went to his dorm room one morning to tell him that-- because he had been chasing after me, for awhile-- and found him in bed with not one, I think, but two women. Frank was the complete opposite of Mark. He, was smart, too, but not geeky like Mark, and Frank was not 'buttoned up tight' like Mark. He was relaxed, fun-loving, and liked himself, none of which Mark seemed to be capable of doing, given his personality. Just as I saw them in bed, Frank saw me, and I turned and left. He had his dorm room door wide open, so anyone in the hallway could see this scene. Maybe for some sort of 'bragging rights', with the other guys? I'm glad I found out what Frank was really like, right before I made a mistake, with him.]

    This last story is the one that hurt me the most. It is also the story that prompted this letter and the question I am about to ask you. I should be asking it in person, but I am an ocean away from you right now-- in England-- so I will have to write it: Debbie, will you marry me? I love you.

   Maybe you are rolling on the floor with laughter right now. If so, I can handle that. My greatest fear is that my proposal will upset you and make your life more miserable. If that happened, I would walk in front of a truck. 

   I want to share your life, be your man and offer you strength and guidance when you need them, and take them from you when I need strength and guidance. I guess I should add, to be completely honest, that I desire you physically as well. You're beautiful.

   I would get out of he Air Force after one more hitch if you wanted me to, or even get out in November if that's what you truly wanted. I would dig ditches to support you, if that's the only job I could find. I would help you buy your house, and your department 

                                                                                                                 4

store furniture department, and help you raise your children: black, white, yellow, red and brown (perhaps a Puerto Rican, just to prove that they don't all turn out like George [H].

   I guess I know already what your answer is. Still, if there's the slightest chance for me, I had to ask. Maybe you love Frank Beale. [NOTE: Nope, and I was ANGRY about Mark writing me ALL THESE RUMORS that let me know how much GOSSIP was going on about me-- both true AND untrue-- that he was even hearing while over in ENGLAND! I disliked this letter as much as I did Mark himself. He was just ANNOYING.] Maybe you're back with Jim. Maybe there's someone else. Maybe there's nobody else but you just despise me. So be it. Whoever you go with or whatever you do, I want you to be happy. If my never seeing you again will help you achieve happiness, it is a price worth paying. I don't want to exert any pressure on you. Take care of yourself.  

                                                                         Sincerely,

                                                                                   Mark

. . . . I will be here until October 2, or thereabouts.

Michael, was a Lieutenant Colonel, in the Army, that I met when I remarried Tom and he was stationed at Fort Drum, in upstate New York, as an Air Force weather forecaster. Michael's unit was there, for training exercises, when I met him. They had to return home, to New York City, not long after that. We stayed in touch, by mail, and by phone, for many years, though. Michael wrote me alot of letters. He was tall and manly and bald; an officer and a gentleman, at all times, with me. I felt, very respected, and cared about, by him. He was wonderfully supportive, of me. I kept a few of his many letters to me, when I sorted my memorabilia. Here are some excerpts from those letters . . . . One last, but very important, thing, I am adding, to this paragraph, about Michael, as I near the completion of writing this post just prior to publishing it online: Of ALL the men I have EVER known in my life-- and there have been many thousands of men that I have encountered,  in some way, or other-- MICHAEL, is the ONLY one, who 'stood the test of time'. 

I told him when we met at Fort Drum and were first getting to know one another that I did not think we were compatible astrology signs, because he was a Virgo, and I am an Aquarius. That was 34 years ago. I always let that hold me back, in my mind, when I was interacting with him, over the years;  as silly, as that may sound, to some people, who don't put much credence, if any, into such things. I was talking to a Virgo friend recently who's happily involved with an Aquarius. I also knew of another couple that we both know, who are those two signs, and I told her about that fact regarding them. In rereading Michael's letters to me, he spoke of that in one of them-- my hesitancy, due to that fact-- and let me know that he didn't think it was an issue for us. But, I allowed it to be an elephant, in the room, between us, versus a, manageable, mouse. I gave it power over love.   

As I think about the men who have come through my life, to the present day, in writing this post, I see so clearly that, Michael, is the ONE, who ALWAYS SHONE ABOVE THE REST-- BY FAR-- in how he treated me, cared for me, and loved me.    I have tears in my eyes, as I'm typing this, because, NOW, it is likely TOO LATE. Due to the passing of, so much, time, it would be logical to assume he married, and moved on with his life, in New York City. I tried Googling him, while writing this post, because sometimes I can find out what happened to the people, from my past, that way. I tried several different ways to Search for him online, to no avail. There was an obituary, for a man with his name, and some of the facts in the write-up about that person indicated that it COULD be MY Michael. Even the photo COULD be him, if he gained alot of weight, over the years, and lost his fit physique that the military requires its service members to maintain. The man in the photo, which accompanied the obituary, was bald, but I could not be sure it was him; and if it WAS, then he is GONE off the face of the earth. I do have one other way to try to locate him, but I would have to go back into the memorabilia that I kept when I sorted all this stuff months ago and see if I saved a reference letter that he wrote for me for a job I applied for, that had his contact info on it.

*            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

[NOTE: Today, Valentine's Day, 2023, I went upstairs to look through the things that I saved after sorting my memorabilia, and I found the reference letter that Michael wrote on my behalf. Using his Contact Information, on it, I tried to find him, but could not. I could see photos of his actual apartment address, in NYC,  online, and it was very clearly a man's apartment. But it went on the market in December 2020, and was rented again, in just 2 days. I have no idea if he was  the one living in it, just prior to that, either. The years we were communicating,  we used mail for correspondence, and landlines, for calls. Cell phones were not  yet available. Because this was a letter of reference for me he had put his work number on it. When I called that, I got, a recording, saying, "This number is not  in service". The obituary, that I found online when Googling his name, was from 2011, and the man was 69 when he died. The photo could, possibly, be Michael. Comparing that photo, with the one he had attached to his letter to me, I began  to cry, because the baldness and head shape were the same, the size and shape  of the ears, were the same, the eyebrows, and eyelids, were the same, and the, shape, of the nose was close to being the same, in both pictures, although I had  to imagine the age progression as well, after so many years. The biggest reason that I think it could be him though is because of what it said. It gave their name with the middle initial, and ALL of it MATCHED. Michael was a Virgo (August 23 - September 22), and the person in the obituary, lived from, September 16,1942-December 9,2011. Also, part of the obituary described the deceased in this way: 

"Michael served his country in the United States Army and Army National Guard, retiring as a Lt. Colonel in 2002. He was a member of Holy Family Parish, Knights of Columbus and Knights Templar. Michael is a graduate of Marquette University and worked in the communications and advertising field the majority of his career both in Milwaukee and New York City."]

*            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Michael's letters to me through the years were always so loving. As we discussed my troubled life, and misadventures, as I struggled to find my way in life through so much heartbreak, and loss, and abuse and such, he always gave me the grace to do whatever I thought was best for me, even if he wanted something different in the situation. He cared enough to want me to be happy. Isn't that what love is? I have tears in my eyes. It looks like, it is too late, to find out, what we might have been, with one another. Too much time has passed and life is so fast and so short! WHERE DID IT ALL GO? Michael, is, the ONLY man, that LOVED ME, WELL. Because of that, I trusted him, and I have never once felt disrespect toward him,  for any reason, including because of any disrespect FROM him, since, THAT never happened, with HIM. My PET PEEVE that gets me REALLY PISSED OFF has always been, someone treating me with disrespect. I become LIVID WITH RAGE (at least on the inside; while it takes, all, my strength, to hold my temper, and my tongue, toward them, then, for doing that, to me). ESPECIALLY, when they do that to me, IN FRONT OF other people, and expect me to just, let it go (especially, time, after time, once I 'let it slide' by an act of great grace on MY PART the previous time(s) they have pulled that, for their own, EGO, and/or AMUSEMENT). A man, who had earned alot of respect in my eyes, lost it all because of doing that to me. Multiple times and multiple ways. I feel seething anger due to that and doubt we will ever be friends again. He is not the man I gave him credit for. One thing, is for sure. I can think of no worse feeling, when I deal with other people, than realizing that I gave someone, far too much, credit and I have to reconsider the place they have in my life; if any, at all. When it comes to, who, people, really, are, time, will tell.  

                                                                                                                                                                                                                "August 10, 1989

Hi Stevie!

    I continually reread your letters sharing the wide spectrum of emotions and concerns you have dealt with since I met you. Like you, I have been very cautious in trying to understand the 'rocket engine burst of fire' that launched our friendship. . . . My fascination with you was further amplified by your candid openness about yourself, your problems, needs[,] hopes and dreams. I have never met a woman like you. . . . Ours might have been a passing event but I'm afraid we have linked minds, hearts and souls, as a minimum as friends as long as you wish. . . . In my mind neither you or I violated the trust you have with Tom. I respect that. He is luckier than he realizes. . . and I would tell him that to his face. But you must also accept that I met an intelligent, warm, open[,] attractive[,] beautiful woman. That new door of unbelievable candid communication and the emotions I felt can never be taken away. I will not forget your smile[,] your touch on my hand or your hug. . . . I am a healthy emotional man who is also physically attracted to you. I will always dream and fantasize even if we never exercise that feeling. . . . Love, Michael"

                                                                                 "September 19, 1989

Dear Stevie

        I'm sorry that such unpleasant events were the cause of your call [NOTE: Tom had struck me, and was arrested for it by the base security police. He was angry at me, that he was in jail; not angry with himself, for striking me] but in spite of that, I was thrilled to hear the sound of your voice. . . . As a friend, I guess I have to agree that you have tried and endured enough of Tom's behavior. Apparently he does not realize how lucky he is to have you. I'm sure he has also not thought about the effect losing you will have on his life. . . . Stevie, it is time to reawaken that special, open, happy, confident person that I know you are. It is time to think of yourself, Stevie and get on with your life. . . . It is important however that you also consider the power and charisma of your personality and your other interests. . . . There is no doubt you are beautiful and talented enough to dance again but that is tough . . . work. The Stevie I met has much to offer the world and it's time to get on with that. . . . I remember and still feel the touch of your lips, your hand and your body as we hugged. I think we are both cautious about that uncanny electricity that started with one look into your eyes that morning, and your smile so infectious as was your genuine enthusiasm for the entire event. You thoroughly energize a situation and the people around you. . . . Consider carefully where Stevie will be happiest, in a place she can be what she wants to be, on her own. The companionship and people to live love and play with will follow. . . . You are special . . . Love Michael"

                                                                                           "2 February 1990

Hi Stevie,

    I like that name too. It has a special meaning to me also, as I recall that incredible beautiful young girl in blue jeans and tank top shooting pictures of a band. [NOTE: That's how I met Michael. His unit had a marching band, and they were practicing on the road outside the temporary barracks that Tom and I were staying in at the time. I heard the music and lay on the road taking pictures of them as they marched in formation up and down the road, basically right on top of me. Because Michael was their commanding officer, he was watching the band, and saw me doing that.] I will never forget that moment when you smiled and said, "Hi! I'm Stevie! Isn't that band great" then the phone call in the office . . . Dinner, German wine (how prophetic that was) and your arms around me and that kiss. I'm stirring all over just remembering. You have pushed aside all other fantasies. We have been together often in my mind. You have danced for me many times in my mind and I have been in your arms and kissed your lips over and over feeling the warmth of your body on that chilly wet night. I would go on and on pages and pages about every inch of you that I have not seen or touched. You certainly tapped a well in me. . . . you have been through a lot . . . and I am continually impressed with how you handle yourself. . . . men will be after you. It's a magnetism and uniqueness that will always attract men and create jealousy in women. You are a very unique person, with a special gift and people do not like that. . . . I'm jealous of all who see you [dancing in the nightclubs], when I have not. . . .

             Love Michael XO"

THIS ONE, from Michael, makes me SMILE! The letter is tri-folded in the envelope, and when it is extricated from there, Michael wrote on the outside of the folded up pages, "TOP SECRET For your eyes only". As I open the letter it is dated 6 October 1989. Michael taped a small photo of himself inside of it, showing his manly build, bald head, and a 'poker face' expression, befitting, of a colonel, in the military. He drew a picture of me, on the first page, that showed he not only had, real, artistic talent, but that, he really had, thoroughly, fantasized about being with me. It is a sketch, of me, fully nude (which, I never posed for, so, it was done out of his own imagining of what I would look like unclothed-- and he got it right!), in high heels only, holding a bottle of wine in one hand, and a feather duster in my other hand, just outside of my vaginal area. The letter reads, "Stevie, It was nice to hear your soft sexy voice whispering those tantalizing words 'Kiss me'. As you can see I may never  have  seen  you  nude  but  my  pencil  and  imagination  try  to  fill in  the exquisitely beautiful details. . . . There can be no disappointment for me  because you enchanted my mind first. Anything else would be extra. Your voice is incredible to listen to. . . . you do get my juices flowing. . . . Love Michael"

I had blacked out most of Michael's picture, to protect his privacy, but it appears that he is deceased, based on my research, for this blog post. So, I replaced the altered version of the photo with the original one, showing his full face, that I so wish I could hold in my hands and kiss. His handwriting was the absolute worst I have ever seen, and is a real challenge to read! But, because, I read so many of  his letters to me, over the years, I can read it fairly well at this point. Only a few words, have, forever, remained, indiscernible! I was flattered, and honored, that he thought enough of me to SHOW me what HE saw in me. When someone puts themselves out there, like that, taking a real risk, to SHOW ME, what I mean, to them, through whatever efforts they make, on my behalf, it can cause me to see them as being very endearing, attractive, or sexy. Unless, or until, they show me disrespect, pissing me off then. You can BE SURE that someone DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOU, if they do things like, throw you under the bus, to make themselves look better at your expense, show no regard for your reputation or your feelings, or falsely accuse you of things. Michael had too much class, and intelligence, and love in his heart, to ever treat me those ways. He stands tallest in my eyes, over any man that I have ever met. If I could pick, one, man to live my life with, from all the men I have known, it would be Michael. No doubt in my mind or hesitancy in my heart; only it's too late now. All indications are he's gone. He was the best!                                                                                                                                                                                                            "October 19, 1989

Dear Stevie

        I still have not gotten over the soft sexy sound of your voice when you answered the telephone, especially after you told me why [I used to masturbate using a feather pillow, by scrunching it up until I connected with that 'sweet spot']. Never thought I would be jealous of a big pillow with kiss marks and a sexual fragrance. . . . 

        If I did not say so very well I am very impressed with your strength and persistence in a very bad situation. Not only are you a beautiful woman but a very strong determined one -- a little bit of 'iron magnolia' maybe, in a nice way. . . . I enjoy our communications, you excite every time. . . . I must see you. Love Michael"

[NOTE: Michael and I met right after I remarried Tom, and then, stayed in touch, from then on, with most of the years being when I was divorced and single again. I did not have any illusions when I remarried Tom after seeing how he was in our first marriage to one another. He didn't want a wife. He needed a mother, as well as a military dependent, which would allow him to move out of the barracks into nice, new, family housing on base. I had two very short, and virtually nonsexual, marriages, to this boy, who refused, to become a man. Tom had pretended to be more responsible, to convince me to come back, to him, and then not long after, he reverted back to how he was, in our first marriage. I never slept with Michael, but we had a strong sexual chemistry, from the moment we met, and all I was to Tom was his 'ticket' to the benefits, he wanted, so he could make his life, as easy as possible, for himself; and a homemaker. Tom was, technically 'married', to me, twice, but was never, really, a husband to me, at all. He told me he had changed, and was finally more responsible in how he handled his finances and managed his life, but it was not true. Tom was also physically abusive to me, striking out at me because I expected basic things from him. He was arrested for that, once, while I was at Fort Drum, with him, in this remarriage. Michael, refers to some of this, in his letters to me. While, no physical abuse should ever go on, in a marriage, Tom was much 'milder' in doing that to me, than my final husband, Mark, who abused me, in every way, shape, and form that one could imagine, and did it continually, exhausting me, from that, until, I lost my will to live, at one point. So, if I do not sound like 'the devoted wife', to Tom, I wasn't, because we never really had what two adults would consider to be a marriage to one another. We had a boy and his babysitter. I have written blog posts, about Tom, in the past, if you want to learn more about this, ridiculous, relationship. I gave him a second chance. I shouldn't have. I learned my lesson, with that. If someone does not do what it takes to co-create, a happy, healthy, relationship, with you, all along, then, they, never will.]

                                              Miscellaneous Men                                                                                

I have no idea at all where I met Dennis, but he wrote me a very touching poem. On a small, torn, piece of paper that's now yellowed with age, he wrote: "Debbie

As I sit in this lonely room, thinking of the evening past;

a pencil I hold in my hand, my feelings I try to grasp.

How lucky a man would be, to feel a love such as yours;

To say I love you, I need you, I want you, to feel how outwardly it pours.

Oh, to feel a love, with so much passion, so much power;

would be to walk in Spring, to smell the freshly blossemed flower.

To feel that innacient love, so pure with always a surprise;

To be loved by the girl with the smile, and the Puppy dog eyes.

                                                                     Dennis"

I think it is so sweet, that he took the time, and put alot of thought into writing that, just for me! I transcribed it, exactly as he wrote it; spelling errors and all.

Another really caring guy named Chad wrote me a letter. He apparently lived in Ohio, but traveled to Omaha for his job in the insurance industry. Omaha is the location of the headquarters of some of the largest insurance companies in the U.S. It was written on Mutual of Omaha stationery. He wrote, "Dear Debbie, Im back in Toledo Ohio. I do want to say that I enjoyed the time we spent together.    I wish that there was more that I could have said or done to ease your pain. Im Hoping over the next month or so to get to know you better and Im really looking forward to being with you again in the spring. My week was a very boring one until that nite I met you, I just wished that I could have met you sooner. You are a very warm and understanding person, one I truely would like to get to know alot better. I kinda wished I could have been all those things you where looking for. I know you would be a very special person to be in love with. I'll be praying every nite hoping you'll find your someone but, until then remember you'll always have me. Always Chad"

I LOVE letters like that! I don't know where, or how, I met him, or if we did ever meet again. Some of these things, that these men wrote to me, to express their feelings about me, are several decades old, now. 

In an envelope postmarked APR 24 1989, addressed to me, as 'Stevie' (the alias I went by, for most of the time that I was a dancer in the nightclubs), in care of the Twenties Night Club, another man, that worked for a different insurance company, typed out a letter to me, on that company's letterhead:

"Dearest Stevie:

     I thought I'd better write you today just in case you might forget me in a few days (I'd hope you wouldn't).

     I was just logging some information into me computer and thought I'd just drop you a line to say hello.

     I really did enjoy talking to you saturday night and learning to know more about you. You are one classy and beautiful woman! I wish we could have had more time to talk, it seemed like the time flew when I was in there. I wish I could have standed until closing but I didn't want to bother you anymore that night. I couldn't get over how sincerly honest and warm you were . . . . . . . . . . the world would be much better off with more people like you in the world. 

     You mentioned how much you would like to be married and have a home life, so many women these days are so interested in ONLY a career and themselves it is refreshing to find a woman like you!

     I do hope this letter gets to you and that I spelled your name correctly.

     The last couple of days I was hoping that you believed what I told you and that I wasn't just ' another one of those guys who try to hit on you'. I was completely sober so I did know what I was saying and I do hope that you did and do believe me. That's why I wanted to write to you as soon as possible so you didn't think I was just like the rest. 

     Please do feel free to call me sometime, it would be very nice surprise.

     Take care Stevie, keep smilin and I'll be thinking of you!

     (he signed it in ink:)         A friend,

                                           Steve [U]" 

[NOTE: Based on his last name, which I withhold, to protect peoples' privacy, he owned the insurance company, because his name matches that of the agency.] I don't know if I ever got to talk with him again. I met and talked to so many men.

Here's a sweet-but-still-creepy letter, to me, in an envelope postmarked 22 MAR 1989. It's addressed to me at my home (apartment) address! It is handwritten:

                                                                                                     "3/21/89

Dear Deborah,

     Please don't think I'm some kind of nut (great opening line huh?). In fact I have never done anything like this before in my life. I remembered your address from your check, not really intentionally but because it is so close to mine. [NOTE: MY address was 2235 ST Marys at that time and his address on the envelope was 1001 Park Ave, so they are NOT AT ALL CLOSE TO MATCHING.] 

     After talking to you at the store [where apparently I paid by check and he took my personal information, from that check and wrote me this letter; which is all very inappropriate] and then coming to see you at the club, I've come to the conclusion that you are one of the most interesting people I've met in a very long time. But like I said, I'm more interested in the person I met in the store, The one you said was the 'real you'. She's the one I'd like to get to know.

     I guess I'm writing because I'm afraid I won't see you again in the store, and the atmosphere at the club doesn't really lend itself to sincerity. I mean you probably get 20 guys a week telling you 'You're the most interesting girl I've ever met'.

     There's a song I really like by the Smithereens called 'Behind The Wall Of Sleep'. The lyrics seem very appropriate, so I'll share them with you:

     Now I know I'm one of many

     who would like to be your friend

     But I've got to find a way

     to let you know I'm not like them

     By the way I should tell you, you really are a different person at the club. I believe and put much stock in vibes or auras or whatever you want to call it. And yours were very different Monday as compared to Tuesday. Monday you were very sweet, very open, Tuesday I could actually feel the defensive wall around you even though you were talking intimately with me. Also, Monday you seemed almost innocent and vulnerable, that why I found it hard to believe you were a dancer. I think your ability to change roles like that intrigues me even more.

     Well I guess I'll close now. My address is on the envelope,  my phone is listed with directory and you know where I work if you're interested. If you're not you may toss this away without concern, it was just something I felt compelled to do. And really ad truly I have never written to almost a complete stranger before. 

                                                                                Kyle [N]"

[NOTE: It was interesting to me to read a description from someone saying that they could really see the difference, between 'Deborah', and 'Stevie', my dancer alias/alter ego/stage persona. I've described in previous blog posts how I had to learn how to do that, drastic, change, in demeanor, to be able to do the job of a stage entertainer in a thong bikini, etc. I liked so many attributes of my 'Stevie' side that I have kept 'her' with me to this very day. On any given day, someone may be interacting with me as 'Deb', my sweet and gentler self, or they may be engaged with 'Stevie',  who 'takes no prisoners',  and holds her own, no matter who, she is dealing with. One, of the reasons, I would REALLY ENJOY, having, a romantic relationship (although, I have, ABSOLUTELY, NO DESIRE, to, EVER, be MARRIED again, in my life, at this point) is that, I like doing role play; morphing into a wide range of personas, each with unique attributes. That's so fun to me!] 

On a yellowed piece of notebook paper, Ron wrote me a letter. There's no date. I think it may be the friend of mine who was a hospital (patient) escort, that I met in the hospital we worked in, when I was in nursing. That Ron was a really sweet guy, but he had a crush on me, and would get really upset, with me, and moody, because I didn't like him back, romantically, which strained our friendship. A cute guy, Ron just wasn't what I wanted, in, an intimate, relationship. We would go do things together as friends at times, though. He had a sweet, sensitive, spirit, but he was far too fragile for me. He was more of a boy than a man. I wanted a man.

Ron wrote--

"Debby: 

I'm sorry I pissed you off. I hope your feelings were not hurt. I hope you realize that I didn't mean to make you mad. Sometimes I guess I get too wrapped up in my own head. Trying to figure out myself and my feelings for myself. Thats what I was doing today. Maybe I should pay more attention to the feelings of people close to me. Maybe I should express my feelings instead of keeping them hidden inside of me. I know I don't say it alot, but you really are the sweetest, warmest, most caring person I know. And you are a very pretty lady. I'm sorry I'm this way. It's something that has bothered me for a long time. I want to change, but don't quite know what to do. I hope you accept my apology. I thank you for all the things you have done for me, you have been a true inspiration. I will always have a special place in my heart for you.                                                                                          

                                                    Love. Ron 

P.S. - You're a very sexy woman also."

 

>sigh<

Valentine's Day is in two days, and just like, it seems to be, every year, for me, I have no one special in my life, to give that any real, romantic, meaning. As I pop candy hearts into my mouth as a very unhealthy comfort food, to console myself while there are no knocks at my door delivering flowers, and no candlelight meal,  I'll watch Hallmark movies, where love triumphs over all and culminates in a kiss.

At least Amazon sells vibrators.

We human beings are complicated creatures. Therefore, our feeling, or finding, love, can be quite complicated. My best, physical, relationship has been with a piece of plastic that I ordered online. It is both intimate and impersonal, at the same time. There are pros and cons to almost everything in life, and this is no exception.  I had to learn all about the eye-opening array of available sex toys. The 'lover' in my bed is a piece of plastic, that I turn on, but with the push of a button. It touches my body, but it doesn't come equipped to look into my eyes  and tell me that it loves me above all others on the earth. There are no mutual expressions of affection, verbally or physically. I can't lie there and listen to its heartbeat, because it doesn't have a heart. It just vibrates, at different speeds.  These helpful, and even gratifying, gadgets, are something that I am extremely pleased to have, however, as a, viable, alternative. Without them, it would be a very long, 'dry', spell, since, I remain celibate, and I have been so for 25 years.

It is what it is.

 

Happy Valentine's Day to all of my blog readers in 62 countries around the world!

                    

* 'Miranda' was a different dancer alias I was using at the time because I have a sense of humor and it was funny to me to introduce myself to club customers as "Miranda Wright" and have them say to me, "Wow! You might not KNOW this but that is like 'miranda rights' that the cops say to people they're arresting like, 'You have the right to remain silent.' and stuff." Specifically because I was working as an undercover informant, for the Omaha Police Department, which was a strange motivation behind my involving myself in prostitution in the first place, I went by that name, during that timeframe.

** Looking Glass - https://medium.com/exploring-history/operation-looking-glass-americas-terrifying-doomsday-plane-eca1bcb4765f and https://nuke.fas.org/guide/usa/c3i/ec-135.htm  

*** Jim was the 2nd Lieutenant that I was completely in love with, who was still stationed at Keesler AFB in Biloxi MS, when I got orders to report to Offutt AFB in Nebraska, where Mark met me. Jim became my second husband, is my son's father, and is the same man that I wrote several blog posts about being "the one man that I would love forever". Jim was also the ONLY man that I had sex with when I was in the service.