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I Have Become The Woman I Said I Would NEVER Be!!

30 Mar

depressed
I promised myself I would never be “that” woman.

And today I am her.

Yesterday was a bad day. I was in a car accident, thankfully nobody was hurt. I guess my nerves got the best of me. I should have been paying attention to the road but instead I was thinking about the “other” women. The woman I found out about a month ago came to mind, followed by woman #2 and woman #3 who I discovered in the past three days.
When I returned home I was already distraught. My boyfriend was packing for a mini trip he told me about the night before, but little did he know what I knew.

“Do you want me to take you to the airport,” I asked?
“No, meeting my mother for lunch,” he replied.
“Want me to get you my carryon bag,” I said as he was picking out clothes from the closet?
“Yes, that would be great,” he responded.
I went to the laundry room, grabbed my carryon bag and handed it to him.
“Thanks sweetie,” he said as he was folding his clothes about to put it in the suitcase.

I started to walk away when I stopped. It disgusted me that he was wearing the button down shirt I hated the most. The shirt I had ironed the day he cheated on me with woman #1. I sighed in exhaustion, turned around and said:
“Oh baby, when you get to Washington D.C. tell Susan that’s my suitcase.”

I walked out the door with the shocked look on his face still in mind.

Then four hours later my nerves got the best of me yet again. This time I was walking and paid no attention to the car coming at towards me. Sorry but I couldn’t help but think he was with “her” at that moment. That’s when I was hit by the car, but thankfully not seriously injured.

You see, I’m not ENTIRELY stupid.
Friends and family told me to leave him after the first woman, but I didn’t. Instead I gave him a second chance. It was hard and more problems evolved. Then when I found out about women 2 and 3 I started to plan my escape.
It wasn’t until yesterday morning when I woke up, wide awake when I had a brilliant idea.

My boyfriend was still asleep when I grabbed his phone from the night table. Despite everything, I NEVER went through his phone. Shortly after I became lightheaded and dizzy.
I shouldn’t of been shocked but I was. There were even MORE women, not including the woman he had been talking to from the internet and was flying to meet yesterday for the first time. I couldn’t help but ask myself:

“How many more women are there?”

I am hurt, shaking, confused, disgusted and angry. BUT I still have my pride and dignity. That’s two things he didn’t take away from me.

Now going forward, when “that” woman enters my life, the woman I ridiculed for staying with the cheater, the woman I gave a dumbfounded look at when she said she wasn’t leaving the cheater, I will now smile, take her hand into mine and love her. That’s when I will tell my story and make a new friend.

Unexpected Betrayal

18 Mar

couple-arguing
I just woke up. Three hours sleep in the past two days is actually really good given what I discovered and the emotional roller-coaster I rode and still continue to ride.
I rubbed my head, it was pounding. My eyes hurt, they were puffy from crying. I cleared my throat, it was scratched and hoarse from all the yelling. More importantly, my heart….my heart….well….I don’t think I no longer have one as it’s now shattered.
I glanced around the apartment. There was glass everywhere and sentimental objects of mine were now broken, but I didn’t care. On the surface one might think the apartment which my boyfriend and I shared was ransacked and robbed. I only wish that was the reason for the disorder.
I glanced at my phone. I had received many texts from friends asking:
“Priscilla, I am worried. Are you okay?”
I appreciated their concern but it was now a topic I no longer wanted to discuss or think about. I now pleaded the heartbreaking flashbacks from the past two days would only disappear. I shook my head still in disbelief and shock despite the proof that proved otherwise. I laid my head back on my pillow, repositioned my back on the uncomfortable couch that I recently made my new bed and draped the blanket around my shivering body for comfort pretending it was a friend holding me to reassure everything would be okay.
My mind was still clouded by all the questions and emotions that I still pondered. I could ask myself again and again the questions I wanted answers to such as:
How?
Or
Why?
But instead of trying to make reasoning of everything, I had to face the truth…. and the facts.
I had to ask myself, “Priscilla what are you going to do?”
I didn’t yet have an answer. I still wasn’t thinking clearly. I pulled the blanket over my face, closed my eyes when the first tear fell, then another and another.
Now I know how it feels. So….. this is what it feels like when the one you love betrays you.
************
My boyfriend and I just finished hanging a heavy mirror in the entryway I brought two months ago when I moved in to “his” but now “our” residence. When I saw it hung steadily on the wall, I sighed and finally felt at home. We were both exhausted and hungry so we began to prepare dinner.
We were in the kitchen preparing fresh vegetables when my phone lit up, it was a text from my cousin. I responded when my boyfriend said “Stop texting your other boyfriends,” a phrase he used at least once a day. I laughed as usual and shook my head as we proceeded to cook.
He was frying meat and I was chopping lettuce for our taco dinner with our Maltese , Abby, (the new addition to “our” family) who was lurking at our feet searching for scraps when my boyfriend said:
“I meant to tell you the other day, my friend Kristen is best friends with your friend Tucker. What a small world,” he said with a chuckle.
“Who’s Kristen? Do I know her,” I asked casually?
“Don’t think so. It’s a chic I met on the dating site we met on. We went out once but NEVER slept together,” he said in addition to mentioning they were Facebook friends.
I was curious if I knew her since we had a mutual friend who I hadn’t talked to in six months. I pulled up my boyfriend’s friend list on Facebook and asked:
“Which one is she,” as there were four Kristen’s in his friend list?
He pointed to a specific woman with a profile picture of a landscape.
According to the picture and limited information on her page I couldn’t confirm if I knew her so I clicked the “add friend” button. I disregarded my phone on the counter and returned to my boyfriend to help cook dinner. A few minutes later my phone lit up and at a glance I noticed it was a notification she had accepted my friend request.
I skipped looking at her pictures and immediately started to message her when the messenger window revealed she was already typing to send me a message. I continued to type when I received her first message:
“You need to talk to your man, not me!”
I was a little taken back by this comment but didn’t read anything into it. Instead I replied:
“I did, Chris told me you guys met from the site and your best friends with my friend Tucker. I was wondering if I knew you,” giving a smiley face symbol at the end.
I put my phone back on the counter to finish chopping lettuce when she replied:
“Why did you send me a friend request?”
I felt slightly attacked and was unsure why. My boyfriend was beside me stirring meat with his ears plugged with ear phones listening to music when I wiped my hands, picked up my phone and said:
“If you’re a friend of Chris and Tucker then you’re a friend of mine.”
Seconds later she sent the following message:
“Again, why did you send me a friend request?”
I was still slightly confused. Why did I feel like I’m being interrogated?
I repeated my previous message to her question but this time I added:
“I didn’t think it would be a big deal. If you don’t want me as your Facebook friend then unfriend me. Sorry for the bother.”
I laid my phone yet again on the counter about to walk to the refrigerator when she wrote back:
“Want to do lunch?”
What, I thought?
Now I started to have serious doubts about this woman. I scrolled up to reread the series of texts wondering if this woman was bipolar when I replied:
“I guess but I’m a little hesitant now lol.”
She quickly replied:
“There’s a lot you don’t know. Call me, Chris has my number.”
Instantly I knew I wasn’t going to ask Chris for her number as he would ask a lot of questions, questions that I didn’t know so instead I replied:
“He’s dozing off and not going to wake him,” I said lying. I ended the message with supplying her with my number.
Moments later she messaged:
“Chris just texted me.”
She gave her number and insisted I call. I announced I would after dinner.
For the next twenty minutes I was antsy and curious as I wondered if something had happened to our friend Tucker. I excused myself from my boyfriend and went to our sunroom to smoke when I pressed the send button on my phone to call the woman I had not yet met.
When she answered I couldn’t help but notice her tone of voice wasn’t as perky as mine and it sounded as if she had something serious to say, so I remained quiet and listened. There were several pauses in her voice before she proceeded to say:
“I don’t know how to tell you this.” It was then I learned when someone starts a conversation with this sentence it’s never good.
My eyes started to burn, the only thing that came to mind was Tucker had passed being the last time we spoke was when he learned he had cancer. I listened to her stumbling again when she told me what I had LEAST expected to hear. The more I heard the less I could see, followed by loss of hearing and an overwhelming numbness throughout my body. Finally she concluded with specific details, followed by sending me picture texts and a recording that supported her accusations.
I heard enough. I saw enough. I then entered a state of shock. She was still talking when I interrupted her and said:
“Let me leave and I will call you back.”
I pressed the end button on my phone before I waited for her to reply. I walked back into the apartment where my boyfriend was sitting on the couch watching TV. I went into the bedroom and grabbed my purse with one arm and scooped our dog in the other. Thankfully my car keys were visible on the dining room table instead of me searching for them as usual. I had no plan other than to quietly leave and not say a word. I knew if I opened my mouth I wouldn’t be able to control what I might say and thereafter. I was three-fourths from the front door when my boyfriend asked:
“Where are you going?”
Calmly, I turned around, looked my boyfriend in the eye trying to fight back tears when I said:
“Kristen told me everything. Don’t deny it, she showed me all the proof.”
I had no expectations as to how he would or should react, but this was the moment my heart shattered.
You see, he underestimated how well I knew and understood him including the meaning of all his facial expressions, laughs and awkward silence. It was at that moment, he didn’t have much to say, and in fact he was speechless. He didn’t have to explain, his face said it all. He was guilty. It was a look I will never forget and still haunts me to this day. I started to feel faintish when I excused myself from his presence and continued to walk towards the front door as I originally planned.
I knew I exited the gates of hell when the door slammed behind me broadcasting a loud echo throughout the hall but I didn’t take another step. I turned around, reentered the apartment, laid my purse on the foyer table, carefully placed my dog on the kitchen floor and charged towards my boyfriend who was still sitting on the couch.
This was when I blacked out.
I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure I said something like:
“You fucking cheating asshole. You bastard, I hate you and hope you go to hell.”
I don’t remember if he responded or the following order of events. It was then when I remembered grabbing my first object, the granite stone statue my father gave me when I was five-years old. It shattered when it flew across the room hitting our apartment window leaving a large crack. Next was the picture of my grandmother and me, taken just before she died. The window now had another but larger crack. I continued to throw candle holders, vases, bottles of wine, anything that was breakable and would break that fucking window.
I was on a mission.
Finally the academic award I received in college went flying. It hit the window, glass shattered and it bounced back two feet from where I was standing. I paused when a gust of wind and showered the apartment not noticing my right hand was covered in blood. (It’s not good when you live on the 31 floor on the corner of a skyscraper and your walls are all windows from ceiling to floor)
I took a deep breathe when I realized I was the big bad wolf who huffed and puffed and almost blew the apartment down and would have had I not taken a moment to breathe. I was shocked by my reaction and I’m sure my boyfriend was just as shocked from what he too just witnessed.
I continued to scream at him before charging again to the front door slamming it shut to call the “woman” he obviously wanted to be with. To avoid waking up neighbors and preventing my boyfriend from easderopping, I escaped to the stairway. I sat at the top of the stairs and called the woman who should be my enemy but was now my friend. We talked for the next hour, the more questions I asked and answers I received, the more things started to make sense. My phone began to beep that the battery was low so I ended the conversation with a promise to call the following morning.
I decided to retire from the stairway and turned the knob when I realized it was locked. I had never entered the stairway so I was unaware I needed my key fob to exit. I started to call my boyfriend to rescue me but no answer. For the next ten minutes I walked down 13 flights of stairs when I saw a door that was slightly open which was my sigh of relief for an exit. I approached the elevator, the doors opened, I entered and the doors closed behind me. I pressed the button to the 31st floor when I realized I didn’t have my fob to travel back up to my apartment. (We live in a very tight security building which contains three different keys for different access and I didn’t have any of them) I pressed the button pointing in opposite directions to open the elevator doors….. but they didn’t open.
It was 2:30AM Wednesday morning and the chances of a neighbor entering the elevator to leave or return home was very unlikely. Needless to say my only option was to press the red “Help” button on the elevator.
“Are you in trouble,” the operator asked?
“Yes the elevator won’t open,” I proclaimed.
For the next fifteen minutes I followed the operator’s instructions in hopes for the doors to open but no work.
“I am sending the police and fire department your way.”
I sighed heavily. I plopped on the elevator floor and rested my back against the doors. I grabbed my phone from my pocket which revealed three percent of battery.
I hesitated before I re-examined the evidence. It was hard but I persevered. I wanted to make sure my eyes were NOT playing tricks on me, but they weren’t as I hoped they were. The first picture text revealed itself.

IMG_5511

I sighed.
I scrolled to the second.

IMG_4787

My eyes began to water. I scrolled to the third.

IMG_1303

I closed my eyes when the first tear fell yet again.

I closed my eyes and shifted my thoughts back to earlier that day.
“I have a headache,” my boyfriend proclaimed to the sexual advances I was initiating, not including his distant behavior which shortly followed. I was aware he had a meeting with distributor at noon which was not unusual. However, I found it odd he got ready an hour before his so-called “meeting” when he usually waits till the last minute to dress. I now know his “distributor” was her. I couldn’t get her words out of my mind.
“We met for lunch today, that’s when he confessed he had a girlfriend.
“Damn Priscilla, what a fool you are. You couldn’t see the signs,” I asked myself?
Truth is now looking back, I still don’t think I would have…..he mastered the art of manipulation.
I glanced back at my phone to listen to the recording from their date earlier that day when my phone begun to power off. However, I remember the conversation percisely. Phrases such as:
“I don’t like her.”
and
“It will not last.”
and
“I don’t love her.”
It kept replaying in my mind as a broken tape recorder. What excuse does he have I thought?
It was then I really needed a tissue but my shirt was a substitute.
At the time I had nothing more to do but cry and think before I would be rescued. As a result I had plenty of time to ponder on what I would do next, but I was still confused despite the evidence that was very clear.
Then my thought process started to shift. What would I tell my best friend who would me the same story seeking advice?
Well….that was easy. I would give her a dumbfounded look if she even made an excuse to stay with such an asshole. And there I was….that woman who would be an idiot to those around her if she even considered staying.
I didn’t, nor do I want to be that woman.
The elevator doors opened. Police and fire personnel were standing before me. For a moment I thought about asking if they could rescue me from a broken heart. I was escorted to the floor of my apartment when I personally thanked the firefighter for his help when the elevator doors closed. I cautiously walked back to my apartment.
I briefly hesitated before turning the knob to my front door.
‘Priscilla, you have a huge decision to make,” I told myself.
I entered my apartment and the front door slammed behind me leaving another echo throughout the hallway.
The question is…..am I going to be “that” woman who accepts forgiveness OR will I be brave and persevere for a greater and brighter future?

For 16 Years, I Didn’t Know I Ruined a Young Man’s Life

19 Nov

I didn’t sleep last night. Mother and I arrived at the police station thirty minutes before the administrative office opened. I told the clerk I wanted to speak to a detective about something that happened 16 years ago. Mother and I were lead into what looked like the same room I was interrogated in so long ago. We sat quietly in the closed room waiting for the detective as I glanced at my phone to reread the Facebook instant message conversation from last night pertaining to why we were there. I couldn’t get the last two sentences out of my mind:

“You ruined my life. Please fuck off.”

I couldn’t help but ask myself how this happened? I was just thankful that his friend from that night recognized me yesterday at the grocery store and confronted me. I had only seen both of them once, the same night all this happened. I was surprised he recognized me and knew my name because I couldn’t remember what either one looked like to save my life.

“Priscilla,” an unfamiliar voice called out. I turned around to face a man whom I had no recollection of knowing.

“Do I know you,” I asked confused?

“You put my best friend in jail way back when,” he said.

There was only one person I had put in jail and now everything came together.

“How is he,” I asked not remembering his name?

“He’s been struggling with the charges but he’s doing okay. Maybe you should send him a message on Facebook. He probably won’t respond but it’s worth a try,” he said writing his friend’s full name on a scrap of paper.

Although I had wanted to talk to him after all these years, I didn’t know what to say and messaged him the following:

“Sorry for that night, that was wild.”

He responded back a few times and proclaimed to know who I was as he too didn’t remember.

I was unsure how to put it so I messaged “Cops, you went to jail. I was there.”

Minutes later I received the following response:

“I spent a night in jail. I had to get lawyer and pay court fees. I went back to jail. I was charged with sexual Assault with a minor. You ruined my life. Please fuck off.”

The first time I read that I froze. Sexual Assault with a Minor????

How, I thought? The last time I had walked out of the police station with my mother a detective told us the young man would be released and all charges would be dropped. I hadn’t seen him nor had I heard about it since. I was confused. I continued to ask questions but the only response I got was “Please fuck off or I will file charges for harassment.”

Something wasn’t right, it wasn’t making sense. I went to my computer, put his name in the database and it was confirmed. He was convicted of “Sexual Assault with a Minor”, the same time the incident happened. I called my mother and informed her of this revelation. We agreed to meet at the police station to make things right even though we were both confused.

This moment couldn’t have come sooner. It seemed like it took the detective forever to approach the closed room we had been waiting in for the past hour. The door opens, a chubby man wearing slacks and a tie throws a pad of paper and pen on the table, sits down, removes the pen cap ready to take notes and says “I hear you have something to tell that happened 16 years ago.”

I took a deep breathe, swallowed hard. It was the same story I had told police with mother sitting next to me but this time 16 years later. A night that was supposed to of been innocent fun, but ruined a young man’s life forever…..

I was sixteen years old, three months from turning 17. My mother dropped me off at a friend’s house where I was supposed to spend the night and watch movies. Little did mother know I had packed an extra set of clothes because my friend and I were going to meet some guys. After she dropped me off I changed into a black shirt and leather pants that I had a hard time keeping the button and zipper closed because they were so tight. I topped off the outfit with my friends high heels because I didn’t own a pair. Half an hour later we were dressed and the guys were at her house to pick us up. I don’t remember how my friend and I met the two guys or where we were going but everything else about that night is clear in my mind.

The guys came in separate cars. I rode with one guy and my friend rode with the other. Yes, I was young and stupid, not realizing what a dangerous situation I could be putting myself in. My friend who was riding with his friend were following us to a deserted wooded area at the lake. It was midnight and no one else was around. We noticed they took a left turn and was confused as to where they were going. (I later learned they say a cop on the side of the road and made a detour. It was before cell phones.) At this point I started to grow a little concerned for my friend and for myself. We park and he turns on the car radio. He grabs a beer in a cooler behind his seat which I didn’t notice was there. He offered me a beer but I declined, I hadn’t yet tasted alcohol at this point in my life. We move to the backseat where we proceeded to make out. We were kissing and my shirt came off. He began to fondle my breasts as he was still fully clothed. That was as far as it was going to go. I was still a virgin and hadn’t yet seen a penis. He was very sweet and gentle, never forceful. We heard a car coming and peeked our head out the window. What we thought was our friends were actually the police, six squad cars to be exact. An officer had already approached the window when I was still trying to find my shirt. We were asked to get out of the car and were separated by two different groups of officers asking us questions. The officers that pulled me aside asked questions like: “How do you know him?” “What were you both doing?” “Have you been drinking?” etc.

I didn’t know where this was going and or why we were in trouble. Another officer approached the officer interrogating me and said:

“When I approached the car, her shirt was off,” he said nodding at me.

The officer began to shine his flashlight in my face.

“How old are you,” he asked suspiciously?

“I will be 17 in a few months,” I proclaimed.

The officer got on his radio and asked his fellow officer how old the guy was. The officer shortly responded on the radio that he was 17 years of age. I knew that. So what I thought?

The officer continued to ask me repeatedly what happened between the young man and me. I told the truth. Nothing really.

“Did he take off your shirt or did you,” the officer asked?

“I don’t know, I can’t remember,” I exclaimed.

The officer continues to shine his flash light at me but this time shining it up and down my body.

“Your pant button and zipper is undone,” the offer announced,

I looked down and noticed it was.

“Yeah, these leather pants are tight and they always do that,” I said zipping and buttoning them back up.

“Stay here, I will be back,” the officer said. He walked over to the other officer talking to my guy friend. We briefly made eye contact, I was still unsure what was going on.

I was cold, nervous and shaking. I thought we were in trouble because he had beer in his car and both underage but unsure why all the sexual questions.

A few minutes later another squad car pulls up but a female officer gets out and approaches me. I proceed to tell the her the same story I had told the past three times.

I kept glancing at my guy friend who was surrounded by officers, still being questioned like myself.

“Don’t look at him, look at me,” the female officer said. Your safe now, you’re not in any trouble. You can tell me the truth.”

But I already told the truth I thought. What did these officers want me to say?

She continued to assure me I wasn’t in trouble and not to protect him. Then she asked:

“Did he have sex with you?”

I paused, looked her dead in the eye and said “NO!” Again, I was a virgin and the word “sex” scared me.

She walked back over to the other officers who were talking to my guy friend. When she started walking back to me I saw the officers handcuff him.

I grew scared. I thought she would handcuff me for what I didn’t know, but she didn’t. Instead she told me to get in front seat of the squad car, she was taking me back to the station so my mother could pick me up.

Mother? They are going to call my mother? Now I knew I was in serious trouble. I lied to my mother about watching movies with friend who I wasn’t with, and being dressed up like I was to meet a guy.

I was brought back to the station and was asked the same questions repeatedly. My story never changed.  Then I was asked to write a statement about what happened. I did and it ended with us kissing and he touching my breasts before the police came. When asked what was going on I never got an answer but rather asked another question. I became even more confused.

The officers read the statement I wrote and left the room. Minutes later an unfamiliar officer walked in the room. I will never forget him. He started yelling at me, calling me a liar etc. Then he said:

Your shirt was off, your pants were unbuttoned and zipped. You’re going to sit here and lie and say he didn’t have sex with you? You are going to lie to an officer? If you are lying you will be faced with criminal charges.

At the time I had no idea they were trying to get me to confess and convict my friend of sexual assault of a minor even though he did nothing wrong. At the time I was not aware of the laws. In the state in which I live, at the age of 17 you are considered an adult which he was, and, I, a minor despite I would be an “adult” in three months.

The officer interrogating me never sat down. Instead he leaned over the table and said:

“I’m going to ask you one more time, did he have sex with you. Don’t lie to me because I know you are.”

“No, nothing happened,” I yelled back, now crying harder and requesting my mother.

Half an hour later I heard my heard my mother talking to detectives in the hallway. When she came in the room she was appalled by the way I was dressed and that I lied to her.

The drive home was silent. When we got home mother asked the following question:

“Did the two of you have sex?”

I continued to cry not realizing the situation. “No mother. I’m still a virgin,” I answered honestly. That’s when she began to explain the law and our ages.

The following morning mother had to take me back to the station for further questioning with another detective. He continued to ask several questions and my answer to all of them again were “NO.” They were all pertaining to sex, most of which I had no idea what he was referring to being I didn’t become sexual active and lose my virginity until six years later. The last question the detective asked was:

“Did his penis penetrate your vagina?”

My mother was sitting next to me when he asked this question. I remember crying and screaming:

“No he did not. I’m a virgin. How many times do I have to tell you?”

The detective leaned back in his chair and announced the young man would be released and all charges would be dropped. Mother and I left the police station relieved this was all over.

Now 16 years later, I sit next to my mother in the same room I was interrogated in that night and I ask the detective sitting before us who knows nothing about the case the following question:

“Why were charges filed when we were told otherwise? Nothing happened.”

He hiked up his leg, cleared his throat and proceed to tell me the initial charges which were much harsher such as indecency of a child, rape etc were dropped. However, he was arrested and charged with a lesser charge which was “sexual assault with a minor” for fondling a minor. He proceeded to explain that at that time the law read if the “complaining person” aka “victim” (me) proclaimed nothing happened but officers believed it did, the state could proceed with charges with “reasonable doubt” and a conviction could be made without the consent of the “complaining person” especially if they are a minor.

Because my shirt was removed when police arrived, and I admitted he fondled my breasts WITH MY CONSENT, the state continued to press charges.

I sat in shock as the officer continued to explain the state law to me.

“The kissing and fondling was consensual. What can I do to make this right,” I asked the officer?

He stared back at me, shook his head and said:

“Unfortunately nothing, even if it was consensual. The law is the law. He was charged with “Sexual Assault of a Minor” for fondling you. You were a minor, he was guilty.”

As a recent victim of rape, it can be difficult to receive justice for such a harsh crime, yet it is easy for a man to be charged with “sexual assault of a minor” because the “victim” was three months under the legal age even though it was consensual and no sexual contact was made.

The officer proceeded to tell me he plead guilty, and because of the laws at that time it will never be expunged from his criminal record. I spoke to several lawyers who did research and they all said the same. “There’s nothing that can be done.”

This man will forever have these charges on his record, and since he was 17 years-old there are limitation on what he can and can‘t do due to this fucked up charge.

Mother and I returned to the car and left the police station. Again we were quiet, same as when she picked me up that night 16 years ago. I saw mother glance over at me a few times. She knew I was hurt, mad and upset.

She took my hand into hers and said: “You tried to make things right, that’s all you can do.”

My eyes started to tear up and I replied, “I ruined an innocent man’s life.”

“No, YOU didn’t, the law did,” mother said squeezing my hand tighter.

I didn’t respond. I don’t know what to do or say after discovering such nonsense.

I stared out the car window and only one thing came to mind:

The law is fucked up in more ways than one, and something needs to be done!!!

Internet Harassment is a CRIME

14 Jul

I was advised by my attorney and law enforcement to make the following post.

It appears as though you “hater’s” are slightly ignorant, in more ways than one since some of you continue to bury yourselves in a deeper hole by lacking the knowledge, and meaning of the word “harassment.” I would like educate you trolls about the laws associated with “Internet Harassment.”

Keep n mind, I am only trying th “help” you, NOT “hurt” you! (That’s right, I couldn’t nor would I do or say to someone what you have done and said to me. In addition, there is no such thing as internet/blogging laws on improper use of grammar.)

I was given the following link from the police station yesterday morning. I copied and pasted the link below into this post.

http://www.wisegeek.com/what-are-internet-harassment-laws.htm

Internet harassment laws make it a criminal act to use the Internet to threaten, torment, stalk, intimidate or otherwise distress a person.  Legislation and enforcement varies from one jurisdiction to another, but Internet harassment laws are put in place to protect potential victims from the trauma of cyberstalking, cyberbullying and other forms of internet harassment.  In some regions, provisions have been made within broader harassment laws specifically relating to the Internet and other forms of communication.

Legal definitions of Internet harassment vary slightly from one region to another, but most jurisdictions agree on the basic principles.  Internet harassment is an attempt to use email or another form of electronic communication to torment, threaten, stalk or perform some similar act that would cause distress to a reasonable person.  When determining the difference between simple rudeness and criminal harassment, authorities are likely to consider issues such as the attacker’s apparent intent, the frequency of the remarks or postings, evidence of premeditation or information gathering,  whether others were encouraged to participate in these acts and whether remarks or attacks were directed specifically at the victim. 

For those found guilty, the penalties for violating Internet harassment laws depend on the severity of the attacks and the jurisdiction.  Harassment convictions can result in fines, community service or a prison sentence.  If the victim made previous attempts to make the attacker stop, or if the attacker engaged in other illegal activities such as hacking to harass the victim, sentencing is likely to be harsher.

 

 

Before 1990, there was little that could be done legally to deter harassment in any form, whether through the new internet, over the phone, or even in person.  California was the first state in the United States to pass anti-stalking legislation, with other states passing similar laws in the following years.  These laws, written long before the days of text messaging and social media websites, were designed primarily to prevent predatory stalking.

In 1996, the U.S. Congress passed the Communications Decency Act.  This act, originally written to protect the public from harassing phone calls, was rephrased to include any telecommunications device.  Although some other clauses of this act were found unconstitutional because of an infringement of free speech, the articles on Internet harassment were not challenged.

Even with the Communications Decency Act, most anti-harassment legislation is done at the state level. California was first to address cyberstalking in 1999, and many other states have passed specific Internet harassment laws.  Still others have made provisions in existing anti-harassment laws to deal with Internet communications.

Other countries have passed Internet harassment laws as well.  For instance, the British Parliament passed the Malicious Communications Act in 1998.   International cooperation has been effective in addressing other forms of Internet-based crime, but issues surrounding jurisdiction remain problematic with the Internet, because even the way the crime is defined by various Internet harassment laws can vary greatly.

I REST MY CASE!

 

Sad

7 Jul

We are silent,

You are hurting, I am hurting,

Saying goodbye is approaching,

At each stop light you cradle my hand,

You are breathing heavily,

So am I,

I can hear your heart pounding,

So is mine,

I hear you swallow hard,

I do too,

I can feel your hurt,

I’m sure you can feel mine,

I’m fighting the tears,

We are at our destination,

It came so quickly,

If only I could have another five minutes of you holding my hand,

You park the car and walk me to mine,

You lean in for a loving hug,

But it’s so hard, just go I thought,

I get in my car and sigh,

One tear drops, then another.

Goodbye my love,

I’m sad,

I’m hurting,

I miss you,

I love you

Lesson Learned: Why I don’t give strangers a ride

19 Jun

I woke up at 6AM in my new apartment. I had just moved the previous day and I was exhausted!! I needed a cup of coffee but my coffee maker was hidden in a box I couldn’t find.

I grabbed my keys to go to the nearest McDonalds…..still in my pajamas but I didn’t care, I planned on going in the drive-thru. I was almost at my car when my new neighbor introduced herself. She was short, petite with blonde hair and big boobs. Similar to my appearance but a good foot shorter.

“Hi, I’m Reagan.”

“Priscilla,” I replied.

She welcomed me to the community and pointed out the nosy neighbors to avoid. When she saw that I was leaving she asked:

“Do you mind driving me up to CVS so I can get my prescription?”

I knew exactly where CVS was, it was a block away, next to the McDonalds. It was only a block away, she could have walked, and she should have but instead I said:

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

I dropped her off at CVS, went to Mc Donald’s and when I was about to head back home I wondered if she needed a ride. I looked around but didn’t see her walking. I made a loop into the CVS parking lot and parked by the front door. I waited for ten minutes but still no sign of her. Maybe she was doing some additional shopping I thought.

I turned my ignition off and went inside. As soon as the electronic double doors open I see her in a fist fight with the manager. Why I didn’t walk out and leave I don’t know. My instant reaction was to pull her off this woman.

I heard the manager say:

“I smell alcohol on you.”

Followed by:

“I’ve called the police.”

Again, I don’t know why I didn’t leave, but instead I grabbed my neighbor, we got in the car and I asked:

“What the hell was that about?”

“They wouldn’t let me pay for my prescription with my father’s credit card,” she replied.

It made no sense to me but whatever.

I started the ignition and while backing out of the parking spot I could see the manager through the glass doors and on the phone.

You could see our apartments from the store and as I was getting on the main road five police cars passed us in the opposite direction.

There they go I thought.

Before I could blink one was behind me with red and blue lights flashing.

FUCK!!!!

What did this woman do, I thought? Does she have drugs on her? Did she steal something? What is she not telling me?

When the officer approached my window he immediately asked me to get out of the car.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?????

“Officer what is going on,” I asked?

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he said?

I told him the story, he told me to sit down on the curb and I watched him join the other officers who were now talking with her.

The officer approaches me again and asks me to stand up. I did.

“She has a completely different story. She says the two of you are good friends,” the officer said.

“WHAT????? That’s bullshit, I just met her.”

The officer gets closer to me and asks:

“Have you been drinking?”

Drinking as in alcohol, I thought? It’s not even 7AM, I have coffee in my cup holder not a fucking beer.

“No officer of course not,” I replied.

“Step over here please,” he said.

Great, I thought. I had been through this eight years prior and he was about to have me perform a field sobriety test. Why the fuck does he think I’ve been drinking, I thought?

I wasn’t drunk, didn’t stumble or wobble. I was sober ,but he didn’t think so.

I was handcuffed and placed in the back seat of the squad car.

In the meantime, these jackass cops believed my neighbor’s story, gave HER the keys to MY car along with my cell phone. Gave my valuable possessions to a woman I didn’t fucking know!!!

Once at the police station they take me to a room, turn on the video camera, asked me to do a sobriety test all over again followed by questions.

Once again they asked how I knew that woman. My story didn’t change, I told the truth.

They didn’t believe me, one of the officers said:

“Do you not understand why we don’t believe you? It’s hard to believe in this day and age someone who give someone they don’t know a ride.”

I’m sure I had a pissed, dumbfounded look on my face after that comment.

“Give me the breathyler so I can go home,” I yelled.

The officers looked at one another and replied:

“We are not giving you that option, we want a blood test instead.”

“Blood test, why,” I asked?

“We think you’re under the influence of something.”

Okay, first of all I watched my cousin die of AIDS because of a an improper sanitized needle. I have no problem with needles or blood but trusting the needle is sanitized is a different story.

I have a problem when the hospital sticks a needle in me and I’m certainly not going to let the county jail stick a needle in my arm.

I refused and I went to jail.

When I got out, my car was safely parked at the apartments but I never retrieved my phone. I went to the CVS and spoke with the manager. I asked what had happened and she said the woman went ballistic because the card she tried to use came up as “stolen.” I informed the woman “I” was the one arrested and she was shocked.

“You were the peace-maker. I gave them the description of the other woman, not you,” she said.

The next day I visited with a lawyer.

“I want to take this to trial,” I said.

“Well, let’s just hold off on making this decision right now. Let’s look at your video tape first.”

I leaned towards him and said:

“NO, I am going to fight this because I am innocent.”

The next time I visited my lawyer’s office was to talk about my video tape. First of all, there were two tapes, one at the scene and one at the jail. The video tape at the scene was never found but after six months, the video tape at the jail finally appeared.

“So what did you think,” I asked?

My lawyer leans back in his chair, with his hands folded and said:

“It was one of the best tapes I have ever seen.”

I smiled.

“However, there is only one problem.”

“What’s that,” I asked?

“You look too happy having been arrested for a DWI.”

And it was true. I wasn’t angry or hostile in the video but rather calm and cooperative.

I said to my attorney:

“What good would it have done if I got angry, yelled and called them names? They had already arrested me, they were not letting me go. I had a smile on my face because I knew I was innocent.”

The case drug out for another year and now it was the morning of the trial.

I was nervous but not really. I had faith justice would be served.

Then my attorney approaches me and says:

“The prosecutor has decided to drop the case because the main officer was recently fired for falsifying a police report.”

THANK GOD!!!!

It cost me $15,000 to be a good Samaritan, but partly it was my fault.

Then a year later the unexpected happened. I went into a convenient store and was standing in line when I noticed the officer standing in front of me was the same officer that had arrested me. In fact he was the dumbass who made the comment about people not giving strangers a ride in this day and age. I had remembered the name on his badge that day, Officer Barrett.

So I said:

“Good to see you again Officer Barrett, do you remember me?”

He turned around and said:

“No sorry I don’t.” (Perhaps he didn’t recognize me because that day I had no makeup on, hadn’t combed my hair and was still in my pajamas.

“It’s okay, I figured you wouldn’t,” I said. Then I continued:

“You arrested me about a year and a half ago at 7AM for a DWI. The case was dismissed because your fellow officer was fired for falsifying a police report.”

He said nothing. He just stared at me….shocked was a good word.

“So officer tell me…..how could I have been drunk when I recognize your face and remember your name?”

I’m embarassed to tell this story

18 Jun

I got an email from a man this morning I hadn’t seen or spoken to in three years. It made me think of this story.

I was sitting at the breakfast table one Saturday morning with my ex-fiance (the doctor) as we waited for the live-in housekeeper (who I later found out he was fucking) to prepare us breakfast. Instead of giggling as I usually did, I sat in silence. I had caught him cheating the day before, and at this time I knew of only one woman, not the other six.

I was sad, hurt and speechless. My mind was wandering and he knew I was upset. He was looking at the paper and I stared out at the beautiful lake that didn’t seem so beautiful this morning.

I was premediating how to cut off his dick when he put his newspaper down and said:

“How about we buy you a new car today? What kind of car would you want,” he asked?

A car that would drown your bank account, I thought.

He knew I liked Mercedes but he was pushing towards the car he drives which is a BMW. I still wasn’t thrilled or excited but went along for the ride anyways.

When we arrived at the BMW dealership it was a disaster. Every car he liked I hated. Perhaps I wasn’t in a very good mood and certainly didn’t feel like car shopping. The car salesman was doing everything to please me but I wasn’t the nicest person in return.

My ex-finance’s opening line to the car salesman was “I want to buy my loving and beautiful fiance a brand new car. Show us what you have.”

HAHA….BULLSHIT….”LOVING” MY ASS!!!!

For an hour I test drove a few different cars but nothing that got my pussy wet.

Then the car salesman said to me and my ex-finance:

“Your not very excited about getting a new car.”

Everybody went silent. There was only one thought that came to mind. For four years, I always kept my mouth shut. I never crossed my ex, even if I disagreed. Not sure why, maybe because of the power I thought he had but really lacked, but this day I said what I thought, and even after I said it shocked me. I said:

“It’s only a piece offering because I caught him fucking another woman last night,” I said pointing to my ex.

Ohhhhhhh, this did not go over well with my ex. But I didn’t fucking care, it was true.

My ex apologized to the salesman and we left.

“Why did you embarrass me like that,” he asked?

“Because it’s true,” I replied as my eyes are now starting to tear up.

He pulled into a restaurant and we had lunch. We ate in silence. Not sure if he was waiting on me or if I was waiting on him to say something. Then my phone rings, it’s my mother. I excuse myself and when I returned to the table he asked, “Who was that?”

My mother, I replied.

He took a deep breath, looked at his food and asked, “Did you tell her?”

“No.” (And I didn’t.)

A few moments of silence went by and I said: “She told me to tell you hi and she loves you,” I said looking down at my plate, picking at my food.

He put his fork down and asked if I was done. Yes I replied. I had no appetite.

We got in the car and he pulled into the Mercedes dealership when I thought we were going home.

When we pulled in, my pussy got wet, I was in love, I HAD to have that car. It was a brand new silver CLK. More importantly I was hoping it would be the most expensive car on the lot. Not the most expensive, but one of them.

A male and female car salesman approach us. My ex expressed we were interested in the car but I immediately interrupted them and requested, Tim, the car salesman who showed me some cars when I visited a few weeks prior.

They were kind to my request and said they would go get him. A few minutes later a tall, thin, well groomed African American gentleman started walking towards us. He was a kind, sincere man who didn’t try to feed me BS as most car salesmen do. Instead he was like a friend who came along for the ride to give me advice to make sure I wasn’t screwed over. Tim immediately remembered me and my name without having to reintroduce myself. He began to talk about the vehicle we were standing in front of when my ex interrupted him and said:

“Tim, is it?

Tim nods his head yes.

My ex continued to say, “Sorry for the inconvenience but we would prefer if the other two sales people would help us.”

Tim had a dumbfounded look on his face followed by sadness.

I was now fucking pissed and livid. My ex did not want to deal with Tim because he was fucking black. I watched Tim leave and the other two sales people walk towards us.

We bought the car, and I drove off in this stupid fucking Mercedes.

While driving home I really wanted to make a detour and run away. Driving back home instead of bolting was one of the stupidest mistakes I had ever made.

That night I didn’t sleep. While my ex was laying next to me snoring his ass off I didn’t think about leaving him due to his infidelity but rather how embarrassed I was at the dealership for the way he treated Tim.

The next morning I called the dealership, spoke to Tim and asked if he wanted to do lunch. Thankfully, he happily accepted.

A few hours later I met him at the restaurant of his choice. I smiled when I saw him, and he in return he grinned.

We talked, we laughed and then he started to get personal in a non-romantic way. I learned his wife had cheated on him and was confused about leaving her because of the kids. (I could completely relate, but I hadn’t shared my story.)

I asked him: “What will make you happy?”

His eyes lit up and he smiled. He began talking about this non-organization he wanted to start for abused kids.It was a brilliant idea and for the next 30 minutes he didn’t stop glowing as he went into detail about his idea.

“I just need to save enough money and trying to find investors. Hopefully it will be up and running in two years,” he said.

When lunch was over we went back next door to the dealership. He went inside to get my car plates and I went to my car, reached in the glove compartment for the card and check that was enclosed. It was the least I could do for my ex’s stupidity and him not getting the full commission on this fucking car. I opened the card, tore the check and wrote another. I had increased the figure.

Yeah, if my ex finds out I will deal with him later I thought. Besides, the second figure I wrote on the check still wasn’t enough in my mind.

Tim changed my car plates, I gave him the card followed by a hug and a thank you.

I called the dealership a few weeks later and they said he no longer worked there. I never saw or spoken to him again. Then today I get the following email from Tim:

Hi Priscilla,

I hope you’re doing well. I tried calling you two years ago but your number was disconnected. I was cleaning out my email when I came across an email you had sent me.

I am doing great, I am now divorced and have custody of the kids. My dream we discussed came true and it has really taken off.

Had it not been for you, it would not of come true. Thanks for your kindness and hopefully you’re not with that, well, I will stop here, but you know what I want to say.

Tim

Needless to say, my ex may have judged Tim based on his color, but really Tim is a real MAN!!!

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