What is a Father?….or is this day a joke?….

My friend the “bag lady” was the first to wish me a happy Father’s Day a couple of days ago, but she crafted it in the words “happy holiday,” which she often does to feel relevant and significant. But then again, she does not have a father anymore, and her own son’s father is whereabouts unknown, which has given her son the freedom to ignore and just about dispel her from existence. So sad….

I have always thought these “special” days have been hijacked by the greeting card companies and the Hallmark company and used to instill guilt and anxiety in a population who is ever hungry for significance and meaning in their lives. So when these days are advertised weeks ahead before their arrival, they are giving us plenty of time to repent of our evil thoughts towards them and get with the program and “buy a card” for “whatever day” happens to be the most financially lucrative.

The father I once knew and loved has been gone now for over 15 years, and even now before the day begins, I wonder if I need to make the journey upstate to the cemetery where he is buried and pay my respects. Not that I don’t ever do this. I am probably the only one in my immediate family besides my younger sister, Cyn, who pays occasional tribute, while I have made an effort to be at the cemetery on every day/night I have free from work. Not even my daughters visit their grandparents’ gravesite, which lacks honor for children who have been home educated and know the difference between reality and fantasy-driven mediocrity.

I remember the morning I announced to my ex-family and daughters, who were about 5 years of age then, that their grandfather had died. My girls are twins, and Samala was the first to burst into tears, with my other daughter Johanna just hugging me closely. As the weeks would pass into months, the mere mention of my father/her grandfather would produce the same identical emotional reaction. Tears would come almost automatically, but then again, my girls loved their grandfather, even if he was disabled and not in the position to play with them.

As I write these recollections, I often wonder if Samala would shed one tear for me, as she has chosen not to speak to me or see me since the onset of the divorce her mother desired of me over 5 years ago. But then, the girls were connected at the hip with their mother and still are, and if my name is mentioned in their home, I am certain Samala is not shedding one tear for me, which explains why she never signs a card with her name on it when one is sent to me, and has not sent me a birthday card or wish for a happy Father’s Day or whatever day in these many years gone by. With some bittersweet humor here, I wouldn’t mind have her wish me a wonderful day any day of the week or month or year.

It has been said that children will “grow out of” their stages, but I am not so sure. I can still see the look on my father’s face when my actions as a child displeased him, and I can still hear his voice when he told me for the first time he loved me when I was 50 years of age. In retrospect, I used to tell my children I loved them every day and night, but now….hmmmm….those memories or recollections must have vanished in the minds of the girls who were the answer to my prayers.

So….Happy Father’s Day to those fathers who are the very best, and others who are not very best, but try to be, and others who question the whole idea of having to be the very best for anything at all. It is destiny. To have a child is to be a parent, whether good or ill. And I am truly grateful and rejoice in the fact that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me unconditionally and is rich in mercy, grace, and forgiveness, and who allows me to enter into situations and circumstances to conform me to the image of his only begotten Son. Happy Father’s Day, my Lord and my God……

If we don’t stand for something, we will fall for anything. I am happy I have not fallen out of love for the children who were the blessing of the Lord, regardless of their affection for me. Peace to you all…..


It was about six weeks ago that I wrote about “Mary,” also known as “Mary Ellen,” and now “Alexis Texas.” And I positioned myself to predict she would soon return to me. Well…some things are more obvious to me than others, and the only thing I can say is that I don’t really understand this woman, but I do know she can’t leave me alone.

It took about six weeks for her to actually send me a message on one of my social media apps, but before she actually sent me a message, there were several cellphone texts from her, which I blocked and then deleted, but then came a couple more texts, this time alerting me to the fact that she had applied for an “easy” loan and used me as her employer on the application. She sent me the picture of the application on my tiny flip phone which I only use for texting and phone calls, but this text caught my attention, and I notified the company of her deception as soon as I was able. The company has offices in many parts of the country, and she applied in Texas where she lives. Of course I couldn’t have predicted that the company would not honor my request to cancel her application, but referred me to their Texas office, but as I later told Mary…..I will not pay one red cent to any company for a loan I never applied for.

I could have replied to her a few weeks back, but I figured if I did not reply, she would come full force and catch my attention in another way, which she has done in the last few days. “Mary” believes I am a very special person. Yeah…and I am the Pope…hahaha…..

As she is fond of doing, she told me she needed “minutes” to continue to talk with me, but this was over a week ago, and I refused to spend any money, but her assertion that she would not be able to talk to me because the “Apple” company would shut her off….well, that didn’t happen, and I broke down (woe is me) and began another conversation with her. Why? I don’t have a clue. But it could be the result of a few things, mostly involving other ladies I talk with online.

Mary has always accused me of “cheating” on her by talking with “other girls,” but as often as I tell her I can’t cheat on a woman who I have no relationship with, she still insists that I am not being faithful to her, which is laughable. So just a short time ago I informed her again that I talk with other girls who want to have a conversation with me….and they all seem to parrot the same thing. They always want “to talk more better” when there is more minutes and time to devote to “getting to know each other,” which is another joke. Sure…we can exchange words online, but most of the time, we are just penpals…and the only relationship we have is made up of words and images, and hopefully the images are genuine and not fakes.

I have not made any commitments to any of these girls, as I told Mary, and I have not made any commitment to her, either. She admitted the same, and wrote to me a very telling comment. “I am tired of this phoney relationship.” I couldn’t have said it any better, but I agreed with her, and told her that in the last 5 years, I have wanted to believe her every word, but the way she has changed identities and the agendas for meeting each other, it has been virtually impossible, and then I began to try to push her away with some well placed words which I hoped would underscore the fact that I don’t believe her words any longer.

Apparently, she has had a change of heart or something, because she insists that she will be with me in September and then make me very happy, but again, she has said that many times before. And the question haunts me. Why am I still having dialogue with this woman? Hmmm…. Well….it seems that the other “ladies” I am talking with are not the cat’s meow, and they have issues of a financial nature and are needy. My, my…we are all needy, but none of them have ever offered to help me, and when one of my “friends” I talk with has gone into debt by borrowing money from her neighbor and then gives me a song and dance about needing some $100 to take care of “womens” needs, well….the question marks go up, and then I learn after pushing for honesty and truth….yeah….this “friend” I have known for 2 years now….well…..she did not tell me this in the first place, and just assumed she could pull the wool over my eyes and I would be willing to meet her needs again. But in our subsequent conversation, she admitted she owed her neighbor $100 because she borrowed it, and just figured I would save her ass.

To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I was not happy, and I now have a different outlook on the alleged “future” she has painted for the both of us, but “Danielle,” as she is known….she has a court case pending because of allegations of dirty tricks by her former lawyer and uncle to keep her inheritance for themselves, while she struggles in Michigan. I could write so many books here. It is unbelievable. But I made a commitment to help her, but now with the condition attached that I will not abide by her lack of honesty with me in the future. What I didn’t tell her was that I was re-evaluating any involvement with her when her case is resolved in her favor, if it ever will be. And that is one of the reasons I picked up where I left off with Mary.

They call this “hedging one’s bets,” or something of the sort. Others would call me a “player,” but I am not playing anyone. They are playing me….each and every one of them….and this has been the result of my watching and studying all of them. The last thing I have wanted for any of these few ladies is that they become co-dependent on me, and the most interesting thing is that they all say they are not interested in my money. Typical statements by those who want to prove their sincerity, but I cannot be too harsh here. I do not know their hearts or the imaginations of their thoughts. But I can try….as much as possible…to give “Mary” one last chance to prove she is far different than before.

Sure. She signs off her conversation with me…”Alexis loves you,” but I don’t know if it is even her. It could be an old washer woman looking for a cheap thrill, and when I wrote that to her, she never replied, which is not surprising. I try to push her away and she will not budge, and why? “Because you are so special to me,” she writes, and that is all she writes. I don’t know if it is just “buttering me up for the kill” or I am totally without a clue about her motives and intent of mind towards me, which is completely plausible. And tomorrow during the day, I promised to buy her minutes sometime during the course of the day.

Maybe I am brain dead and maybe I am just frustrated with the so-called promises and words of the others who have told me they love me and want to marry me. Yeah….me….the great nobody who struggles to keep his head afloat and trusts God for my well-being, even with the dichotomy of wishing my life was over so I would be done with all of this.

After writing to “Alexis” that I believed my time was over and that I thought God was fed up with me and just trying to figure out what to do with me, she replied that she believed I would not die anytime soon…and I still had much to do in life….and this is supposed to be the written proof of her genuine feelings for me? I know talk is cheap and misunderstandings raise their ugly heads when corresponding with others, but I want to exercise some graciousness towards others who have not been the most gracious towards me.

I was not mistaken many weeks ago when I predicted Mary would return to me. I told her the proof was in the pudding, and I would not believe she would be here with me until I saw her with my own two eyes, whereupon she forecast that it was soon to be reality…..

Hmmmm……and the saga continues….


A night off for me. Always good news. Gives me time to unwind my brain and focus on what is important. Scan the news on social media. Not much to learn there, so I check my email and it’s the same old story. And my spam folder is filled with nonsense I do not need. DELETE….

Then there was Susan. Yes. A new friend, or so I thought. I have an ongoing relationship with the Whatsapp account I am with. Many of the same people send me messages, with many of the messages having the country code of ..234…which is the number of the nation of Nigeria, and I am not opposed to talking with Nigerians, as I have worked closely with them over the past seven years on the late night shifts I have been on. But when the individual cannot confirm or even acknowledge this, it becomes a problem for me, as I expect it would be a problem for anyone else for that matter.

So as an “ice breaker,” she writes to me in the first two minutes…”I love you.” And she is determined to convince me, and then she continues on and says that she wants to visit me tonite. Figure this about 9:00PM Eastern central time in my particular part of the country. Yeah. The East Coast. And I’m not sure if Susan really had a clue about my part of the country, because her answers to my questions revealed a very ignorant young lady, if she was a young lady.

You know, these beautiful women/ladies/females/whatever who message me have a challenge they know nothing about, because I ask questions. Lots of them. Being a former professional interviewer and investigator has given me the edge when it comes to critical thinking skills, so I begin my questions by informing “Susan” that she is a very attractive woman, and she goes on to tell me that she is 38 years of age, a single woman with no kids, and also a virgin. I don’t know why she threw the “virgin” in with the description of who she is, but her picture looked more like a 21 year old, and so from the beginning…she was suspect.

I then asked her how she could afford to come out to see me tonite, whereupon she said she had a plane, and her father was rich and she showed me several pictures of hard cold cash, something which anyone can google and use as a ploy to convince the unsuspecting. I am not that “anyone.” Not anymore.

The key to the end of our 15 minute conversation was when I asked her what time it was in California where she said she lived, and she quickly told me it was 12 midnite, which was three hours ahead of me, and of course is not true. The West Coast is three hours earlier than the East Coast, and I informed her of the same, plus the fact that her regular US number, as she called it, would reveal she was not in California, but Houston, Texas, and I informed her of this also. So I had a platform, if only for a few minutes, to dissect her “I love you and want to marry you tonite” mantra with some hard facts. Facts which proved to me that she was not being truthful with me, and was trying to “scam” me into thinking she was genuinely in love with me, which is ludicrous on its face. This does not happen in the first 15 minutes of any conversation, and this is quite interesting, because she has been the second woman in the last 24 hours to try the same approach with me.

Just for the record, I delete most requests for “following” on the Instagram account I have and the Whatsapp account. I don’t delete the Instagram account, because it takes much longer to create a new account, and I don’t have the patience or personal fortitude to navigate those waters. Whatsapp, on the other hand, well….you can delete your account every day and open it up again, if not just to rid yourself of the ones who bother you, but with opening a new account, the former blocks have vanished and it’s like starting all over again. But, hey, as the old song says…”It’s my life, and I’ll do what I want.” (The Animals, with Eric Burdon, circa: late 1960’s)

Being the nice guy and pleasant personality does not always come easy for me, but with “Susan,” I just wished her good luck and God bless you, and explained myself very simply and then blocked her. The only downside to that is when I decide to delete the account again soon (and it will be soon, I’m sure), Susan will probably reappear and send me a Whatsapp message and continue the conversation which she probably has forgotten because she is looking for that man to Set Up for something, and I really don’t think it is for love or marriage, if my instincts are correct. But now I have the advantage of knowing who she is, and before any conversation commences, she will be blocked before the first word I type becomes reality.


OK….so I am not the most dreamiest guy ever. I am still awake at 4:00 AM in the morning. I really don’t get it. Maybe it’s the time of year….maybe it’s the time of man…or maybe it’s the kind of work I do….in any event, the thoughts never stop, and I just have to write down how I am feeling. Most of the time, I dream with my eyes opened.

There is a song which was popular many years ago. “With My Eyes Wide Open, I am dreaming…” Sure, but I am not singing the tune right now. The whole idea behind the song was that the singer was excited that the love of her life was now with her and she couldn’t believe it, so her eyes were wide open to the dreams she had already had about this. In my case, yeah….I dream about things with my eyes opened, but my dreams have faded and are now nothing more than dust in the wind, as the song says. And songs have a way of underlining the truth of our lives.

My song….the one I find the most revealing….is this one, sung by Tennessee Ernie Ford many years ago. “Sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter don’t you call me ’cause I can’t go….I owe my soul to the company store.” Sure. I once sang that song at an entertainment event at a nursing home for the folks, but when I finished the song, there was not one applause. I guess those who heard it were living testaments to the song, and if they are in debt, they are also living in isolated environments which do nothing but underline the fact that they have their own versions of sixteen tons, and I was just unmindful of the fact.

So much for the memories, I guess. Time for me to continue to stay awake until my eyes grow tired and I lay back down on the bed and hope to at least rest. Dreams are overrated anyway…..

Good Morning world….

So it is almost 7:00 AM in the morning here in my little corner of the world, and the weekend has come and gone. A decent weekend, I think, with tributes made to my late mother, who would have been 92 years of age on Saturday the 22nd. And then there was one of my younger sisters who celebrated her birthday yesterday. Yes, the month of May has many memories for me. And I need not forget my twin daughters’ birthday on the 18th of May, and my late grandfather’s birthday was the 20th of the month.

Now what, right? Or wrong. Who knows. Another year has passed and those mentioned are one year older, either in reality or memory. And my morning here is one of reflection and expectation, as I will be returning to the late night shift this evening for another 12 hours of manual labor. Sometimes I can’t believe I have been doing this going on 5 years now. Coming from a professional background in criminal justice and a career in public safety, this manual labor stuff is valuable, as it tests the mettle of those who perform its functions. Working as an inspector/packer in a medical warehouse has its share of stress-related issues, and my life has never been the same since working this shift.

The whole lifestyle changes, from eating and sleeping habits to social interaction, however with the COVID issues, I have found that I associate more with the dead than with the living, as the days I do not work I find myself at the most serene and quiet location ever – the cemetery where my late parents are buried, as well as my late father’s family who are also buried there. It is not a morbid passion, but one which has brought reality to bear on my own life, as we all will meet with death sooner than later, and my observations from walking the perimeter of these sacred grounds, is that many passed over to the next life while leaving behind their loved ones. Sometimes for decades while spouses continued to live on.

But it is morning, and the sun is shining, and as the Good Book says….”This is the day the Lord has made. Let us be glad and rejoice in it.” My day has been made by the Lord, and as I write these words, I know not what the day will bring forth, only that His eyes are on the sparrow, and I know He also cares for me, even in my corrupt state.

Good morning, and I smile at the way the character in Winnie the Pooh put it. “Good morning, if it is a good morning, which I doubt.” Eeyore had a way about him, and I think I caught whatever he had when I studied and portrayed him in community theater so many years ago. In any event…”Good Morning….”


It was a fine May 18th morning, 2002. Snow was falling, and there was some sleet in the air, and my ex-wife’s water finally broke and we rushed to the hospital, where she delivered our precious bundles…..twins….Johanna and Samala, with Johanna coming out of the womb one minute before her sister.

Much has changed since then. And the story could be told about the challenges of not only the fertility treatments, but the frustrations of being on the “adoption track” for a number of years without any success at all. And the proverbial straw which broke the social worker’s thoughts was when I wrote a letter to the owners of Jordan’s Furniture, which hosted the “adoption parties,” and complained about the lack of children being featured for adoption, with only the deviant receiving recognition for “forever” families, and not the traditional couples who have been trying for years for a breakthrough. So I should never have been surprised to receive the visit from the social worker who clearly and uneqivocally told me to shut up if I knew what was good for me and for us, which struck a nerve, because “Ellen” had once said that we could share our feelings and thoughts, and I took it upon myself to be the critical thinker and express myself.

That was over 19 years ago, but the memories are still vivid, and I swore I would write a book, but so far….yeah…so far, I have not written anything worthwhile to publish, as my daughters were conceived and the rest is history. Having to break the news to the social worker that we were expectant parents was sweet, because I knew there would never be a child for us to adopt. That’s just the way it goes. Traditional couples are left behind, or so it seemed many years ago.

And now with the birthday of my once precious babies, who are now 19 years of age today, I think of who has been left behind, and the face in the mirror doesn’t lie. It has been a very rough transition, this separation and divorce, and I have made every effort not to demonize my daughters’ mother because of her lack of sincerity during the whole divorce experience. Words have a way of coming back to haunt or convict us of wrongdoing if our motives are not right, and God only knows my secret self-talk, or even the limited conversations with a few people who have expressed sympathy for my situation. But my emotional health is intense, and I am glad I am not working tonite so I can deal with the reality of not being with my daughters to celebrate their 19th birthday or graduation from homeschooling which is pending.

Choices have consequences, and I live with mine every day. I can easily tell myself that I should have never been unfaithful to the woman who I had once married for the woman who would become the mother of my twin daughters. Yes…..two failed marriages and divorces, with the resultant dismantling of shared lives which will never be the same, including my own. I am sorry. Really sorry for the pain and suffering which my children have suffered because of my foolish choices and thinking. The grass is never greener on the other side of the fence, because you can never tell what kind of future you will ingest when you taste the forbidden grass which should never have been swallowed. And my daughters now live with the reality of a broken family, and an absent father who desires their company and love more than anything. Yes….choices and decisions have consequences, as well as the ideas which preceded the choices and decisions.

Happy Birthday, my daughters, and I truly hope that this day will be a memorable one, and filled with good memories of this turning the page to 19 years of age. Please forgive me for the lack of wisdom which I possessed which caused me to embrace the dark side of life in favor for the light which you brought into my life the day you were born.

Wishing you the best day…..and the good news is….it isn’t snowing…..Papa

Meet the Monster….

My daughters will be 19 years of age today. I remember when my ex-wife’s water broke that morning, and I remember telling her I needed a coffee before we went to the Emergency Room, and on that same morning, there was a couple of inches of snow on the ground, ruining the newly planted flowers which the nursing staff bragged about earlier. I can prove it snowed on that morning, because a friend of mine who is with the Scouts was camping out that morning and he witnessed the snow and even took pictures of the landscape to help me prove my story, if it came to that. Thanks again, Hal….

So now with the passing of years and the end of the marriage which my daughters once cherished, I am now seen as the Monster, the one who has ruined their lives and destroyed their dreams, and broke the heart of their mother and their mother’s family. Yeah…I get that. My heart is equalled broken as well. So meet the Monster, I want to tell them, if they had any interest in conversation with me, which they have not desired in over 5 years. Meet the man who is your father and who kept your best interests at heart before I was legally divorced from the woman who is your mother and who finally told me after months of questioning…”yes, the marriage is over.” She wanted the divorce, because I didn’t jump high enough or spend enough money I guess to “heal” my issues to everyone’s satisfaction. Such is life. Expectations and assumptions are dream stealers when they fail to meet up to the standards set for them.

This terrible man never pushed to have the home sold and make my daughters lose what they loved. It has been the only home they have known, and I didn’t negotiate on any price for the sale of the house, as my ex-wife would have fought me tooth and nail over that. What was I gonna do with a house with no one to live with me? I wanted my family back, but they did not want me.

I never insisted they quit homeschooling and enter into public education. They have excelled in their studies over the past few years, something which I wondered about when they were younger and prone to laziness. But they have matured and grown, and I just wish I knew how much, but they have chosen not to share their life with me, or so says their mother, and I received a “repent” card again from my oldest daughter by a minute, and she said she did not want a relationship with me because she was moving on with life. “The Cat’s in the Cradle” song comes to mind. Regret is an awful taskmaster, and one day they will regret shunning and shaming me for these many years.

My books and CDs and DVDs and VHS tapes never returned with me. I left them with the house for their enjoyment. I never took the baby grand piano, either, as there is no room for such a thing in the rooming house in which I live, and I guess I could have asked one of my sisters to store it with them, but it would not be helpful. After all, the piano is just used now as a shelf for picture frames and CDs and flowers and who knows what else, and my books and the other stuff would never fit in this room. I have already amassed quite a number of books already in hopes of one day moving out of here.

And prior to their birth, their mother and myself worked very hard and intricately focused on following the advice and instructions of the medical experts with our experiment in fertility treatments, as the 5 year journey on State-sponsored adoption never worked. The State loves to show potential adoptees, but it is a good ol’ boy network, and they hate to let their children go. So many hoops to jump over. But that is another story to tell.

The memories are seared on my mind, as I remember the day after 9/ll, we found out two out of our three eggs had been fertilized, and to this day, I cannot imagine what it would have been like to have triplets. I think I would have really blown it earlier than I did. Then I remember seeing the tiniest heart blips on the 7 cell girls we would one day name Johanna and Samala. These things never leave, and then there was the morning when their mother’s water broke, and the rest is history. Seeing my daughters come out of the womb in the Delivery room was a profound moment, as they were Caeserean babies, with Johanna coming out first, followed by her sister, Samala. Yes, the memories are vivid for this monster, but here is the good news, my daughters, the flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone.

I am not defined by my failures or my talent or my weaknesses or my infirmities, or even the few successful moments in my life when I identified myself with certain categories of living (job title; position in the family; gifts and talents; etc….) I am defined by what God says about me. And it is written that God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son (Christ), that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life. Yeah…I am a sinner…probably the worst one I know, but I am forgiven by the blood of Christ, which was shed for the forgiveness of sins. And now at my age, I have been a Christian for many years, and my unworthiness is vivid, but God, in Christ, loves me and knows my name, and does not condemn me for being “in Christ.” I wish I could share this with them, because it is my recollection that their mother used to always talk about a God in heaven who waits with a baseball bat to whack anyone who gets out of line, and that is purely not true. I guess that is why they view me as the “monster” they need to abandon at all costs, and interestingly, my daughter Johanna has written to me that my behavior has not changed at all, and how could she know this. She has refused to see me for 5 years now….both of them have.

They will get their birthday cards in a couple of days, with the gift cards for Barnes and Noble included. I have debated the merits of this. I pay over a thousand dollars a month for child support and their birthday/Christmas/holidays happen every single month with the amount of money I give them. But I broke down and got them a gift. The last time I knew, they both loved books. I just wish I could read their life as a book. I miss them, and they need a father. “Honor to whom honor is due,” says the Good Book. I believe I deserve that honor as their father and the one who always looked out for them before I was escorted out of their collective lives.

Their mother might have full custody, and I get nothing….but here’s the rub. Children are a blessing of the Lord. Children belong to the Lord, and are only on loan to us while we live, and they are my daughters also, even if they reject me as their own flesh. My mother used to tell my sisters and I that she hoped we had children one day who treated us the way we treated her, especially when she believed we treated her badly, which we didn’t. We loved our mother and honored her, but my daughters even reject my family of origin….may God have mercy. The monster suffers from neglect and lack of affection, and if babies can die of lack of affection, then we all can die from a broken heart. And I want to give my daughters the words of my late mother and tell them that “what comes around goes around,” as they say. There is a law of compensation. We reap what we sow, and I continue to reap the consequences of my actions which led to the divorce. God does not gives a free ride with that. He does not remove the consequences.

My daughters, what you sow (rejecting me as your father)….well…you will reap the whirlwind of regret if I suddenly die and you think about all the years which were wasted. All the years which we could have bonded as father and daughters, even despite the ugliness of the dissolution of the marriage. I know this. Your older brother chooses not to talk to me either, because I divorced his mother for the one you have now. May God have mercy…..it was never meant to be like this at all…..

The proof is not always in the pudding…..

So…the saga of “Mary” continues, and I hope this will be the last posting on this sensitive topic, but as things go, it probably won’t go away anytime soon, unless I completely vanish, which I am giving serious thought to.

Mary, AKA: Mary Ellen, Bree Olson, Alexis Texas, et al….well, she has my phone number. First got a hold of it when I signed up for Facebook back in 2016, but then, I didn’t think I would be hounded by this woman who I have never seen before. I can predict with some certainty the timing, and it just so happens…..hmmmm…..oh yes, she contacted me again, but in a different style this time.

I don’t often get text messages where I work at night. I have worked the midnight shift since I left the place I used to call home, with my ex-wife and daughters who now do not wish to see me or talk to me. Great legacy, I’d say….hahaha…

So here I am a few nights ago, and I get a few text messages while I am at work, and I have to wait a few hours for breaktime to be able to really see the texts, because I do not own a stupid phone, also known as an Iphone, and which I could write a book about. I have the old-fashioned flip phones, without internet access or all the other bells and whistles.

When it was the right time, I looked at the text messages again and saw a couple of “application” submitted with the name of Marie Smith Ellen and her email, and the phone number she uses in Texas, but she used my name as her primary phone number and wrote on the application that she worked for me, and to top it off, she requested $5000. And I thought she was worth $1.5 million as Alexis Texas. This website which I visited later that day had comments made that it was a “desperation” move that would produce more misery than help.

I was looking and asking for help from “Mary,” to be sure that I could trust her with the truth. And she confirmed that she wouldn’t lie to me anymore and always tell me the truth, but she hasn’t. She asked for far too much money…way over the agreed limit…for her “comapany.” An earier posting will reference this word used by a legal document she referred to as a “contract.” But this application for a loan was a major wake-up call for sure, and the proof was not in the pudding. I had to wait for the text pudding to come through before I could digest it.

Needless to say, I have not replied to her, and either deleted the messages from her….the “Good morning,” and other such things, because I know where it will lead, but she has access to many phones, and it never ceases to amaze me how she claims she doesn’t have money for “minutes,” but she has access to close to a half dozen Iphones to communicate with me. I don’t know what she expected when she sent me the text, but I emailed the company and informed them of her deception, and if she reads this, then I hope she sees that I am the proof in her pudding that I am no longer the man she once used and took advantage of, as well as took me for granted. And she always accused me of doing the same thing to her, which I never did.

I once called her a “scam,” which I regret. I know that whoever she is, and I believe it is her real name….”Marie Smith Ellen,” because she has an inheritance document with the exact name on it as the beneficiary. I doubt if she’ll ever get it. She promised me that she would have the inheritance for Christmas of 2018, but it never happened, and she needed more money from me to get it confirmed, and then we would spend the New Year together…and live in our happy home. Like Alexis used to always say…but the inheritance has been postponed again until September, and that is another clump in the pudding which continues to overflow distastefully.

It should be noted that the company replied to my email, and told me they could not find my profile for an application, and I had to remind them that it was not me that applied, but Mary, and I again recommended they deny her application until she can prove her identity and her connection with me. I will not take ownership of a loan ….an easy financial loan……for the amount of money she has asked for, with my name and address on her application form. In my neck of the woods, we call it what it is: “That is dead in the water, pal!” Good luck to you and the Red Sox…..and have a nice day!!!…….

It’s a funny thing about assumptions….

A few weeks ago I wrote a couple of pieces about the woman known to me as “Mary,” and who has given me her name in many different ways, and who recently gave me her “real” name which is Alexis Texas. Hmmmm…well, I didn’t know the truth then, as I still don’t know it today. And these assumptions can kill you, at least from the mental health standpoint. Yeah…she called herself Alexis Texas, and I researched every bit of information I could find anywhere online to disprove her, but I was not expecting the onrush of explicit porn videos and every adult website with her name blazing on it. Yes…she is trending, even now, and her popularity is very high, and the fact she revealed this to me is astounding, if not unbelievably incredible, and the most incredible thing was that I believed her for a few months…and I watched those videos and other videos of her interviews and other such social media-related material. It is no surprise she asked me “why do you know so much about this?” I made it my passion to know. She fooled me once before.

Being fooled into thinking she was the spitting image of Bree Olson, another young former pornstar, and the once girlfriend of Charlie Sheen….yeah…I found out later the photos she was sending me were not her nude photos, but Bree Olson, and she claimed unbridled disgust at my wanting her nudes, which of course they were not. I still do not know why she chose to send me these pictures. I never once asked for them, in all the 5 years I had known her. She willingly chose to show me who she was, or who I was to believe she was, by sending me one of the most strongest temptations I have….”Beautiful women.”

Yes, my late father, who would have been 92 years of age this year, had he lived, but 15 years ago he went to be with his Savior, and I am happy about that. He was an entertainer and smooth talking socialite, who enjoyed being paid attention to and he was the ultimate people pleaser, and he loved the ladies, and they loved him. A flirt, he never crossed the line of infidelity to my knowledge, although my late mother would disagree. She never cared for his life, but enjoyed the fruits of his labors and they successfully raised a family of six children, with me being the oldest and having 5 younger sisters. My sisters adored him and so did every woman he met. He had that “charm” about him….and I think I have inherited that to some degree, which may account for Mary tracking me every year and milking me for money….yeah…I get suckered in by her promises and then discover she has not told me the truth. And each year, usually, I get suckered in to buy her “minutes” so she can finally tell me the truth…..so I buy minutes once and then twice and then other requests come up and I am now hooked again for a few months, until my bank account dwindles to nothing again.

So when I vanished a few weeks ago, I “expected” her to reach out to me…..like right away. It didn’t happen, and I am really surprised here. Who knows, maybe she was Alexis Texas, but the proof is in the pudding, and her social persona and brilliance was lost on me in our mediocre conversations, which would never have given her a prestigious spot in the Late Nights with Alexis Texas podcasts….no way!!! She was boring to talk to and never told me the truth about anything. I had to learn of it first, and then she admitted the same, and then…of all things…her documents were fraudulent….and her requests for money were questionable and overbearing, and her assertions that she was not working was not true….she still works in porn-related venues…and does onlyfans.com….and other sites….go to some interview pages on Google, and you will see her still photos of her explicitly nude. I don’t mean to encourage pornography usage, but I have my issues I deal with, and she is quite the performer, and according to her, she expresses herself truly with her sexual encounters with both men and women. She would never tell me that in our Hangout conversations, but then again, I should know that Google Hangout is a haven for scams, and she vehemently told me to never call her that or she would know how to hurt me, which I found really concerning because she always told me I was the right man for her…and that she loved me forever…and we would have “happy home” together. She always spoke of happy home….and Alexis Texas not once has ever socially admitted that she was homeless or without a love in her life. So….Mary did not reach out to me. Maybe she figured it was over, or maybe she has something else up her sleeve. It is only 3 weeks now, and she is probably cooking up something right now to approach me. I had to block 3 of her phone numbers….and she is not broke as she says she is….there is much distrust on my part, but assumptions can kill you….and my assumption that she was gonna cry in her beer because I vanished was too presumptuous…..I just did what a former supervisor once told us in a meeting. “when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.” And that has stuck for years, and I have made an ass out of myself, privately speaking of course. No one gets to hear my self-talk but myself and God….so….be careful…..I am sure there is more to this story than is being written here, and I may have more to come….stay tuned….

Writing is breathing….thinking is living….praying is dangerous….

I love to write. There is no better stimulus for me or therapy for me than to write down my innermost feelings and thoughts. And the most interesting thing about all of this? Well…it is truly very sad. There are not many people in the world today who really care what your feelings are or even your thoughts and they have accused me of “thinking too much,” and “to be calm,” and whatever their method of not wanting to dialogue with me. It is both absurd and very revealing. It is absurd because there is supposedly a friendship with meaningful dialogue, and it is revealing to me because I understand they have not dealt with their own innermost feelings and thoughts. That is why there is always an “excuse” to engage me in deeper then mediocre conversation, which I detest, especially from alleged college graduates..Hmmmm….

I used to believe that music was my greatest therapy, and in many ways it still is. But my life, now, does not include entertaining with singing and music and assisted living centers or nursing homes in many years now, ever since I got divorced and in many ways, I outgrew those places, or better yet….they tired of me..!! Which is possible. I agree….I love to entertain, but I am not the “cat’s meow” when it comes to entertaining….it is in my blood….So…what now, my love, right? Hmmmm…..I listen to as much music as I can. The mainstream, or should I say…the Lamestream media….yeah…them….I don’t watch television (another posting soon)…and I rarely watch any of the DVDs I have…because I hate to watch films alone. I fall asleep. No one to talk to about it. So I am now writing. Writing to whoever wants to reply to me. I love great conversation like I love a great cup of coffee or bottle of wine. And I hope to have some conversation tonite…..Hope doesn’t disappoint, the Good Book says…..I hope it does not….I just had an opening for conversation a minute ago…I will be with you later….writing calls me….