This web site contains stories of physical, mental, emotional, and sexual child abuse.

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As I was married six times, it hit me one day that I had always tried to mold myself to fit into the life and lifestyle of whatever wife I was living with at that particular time of my life.

Usually, the most I could hope for when meeting a woman was that she would at least be kind to me. That is all it ever took for me to ‘fall in love.’ That was the only way I knew how to fall in love and that was by the feeling of someone being kind to me.

It was also the most we could ever hope for when we lived in the orphanage. We just waited and hoped that we would be treated kindly, and if they treated you kindly then that was the best feeling in the world. Years later when you grow up and became a man that is the kind of woman you look for to marry - the one who will treat you kinder than the rest of the women you meet.

I started realizing that this was not true when I got married for the third time. My ex-wife was quite a flirt and she had two children from a previous marriage when I met and married her. Her children were very secondary to her and she kept them in their bedrooms most of the two or three years that she and I were together. I caught her several times in various situations that looked very suspicious, but I let it roll off my back, I think because I did not want to face the truth and hoped that things would change. I hoped that we could really have a family and she would allow her children to be kids for once in their lives.

I came home from lunch one mid-day and she walked in the door shortly behind me, coming from her job at the TV shop. She walked directly into the kitchen and made herself a sandwich without saying a word. I did not say anything to her, even though I had heard she was seen coming out of a motel earlier that morning with one of the out-of-town salesmen. She took her sandwich, walked into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Finally, I looked at her and said, "You could have made me a sandwich."

"Make your own damn sandwich," she yelled.

I made a sandwich and stood in the kitchen thinking about the kids. What would happen to them, if I were to leave and never come back? Being from an orphanage, it was always very difficult for me to leave and start a new life when I had to look into the faces of the children who would be left with no one to care for or feed him or her correctly. The more I looked at her, the more I wanted to leave.

Finally I said, "I see that you were in another motel this morning."

"If you are asking me did I ‘F’ anybody, I did and so what?"

I put down the sandwich and walked toward her. I reached down and grabbed the love seat by the front of the bottom and with all my might I flipped it over backwards. The love seat went completely in the air with her on it and came all the way around and landed right side up with her still on it, just like she was in the first place. The next thing I realized when I came to my senses was that I had her around the neck and she was turning red. I immediately let go of her, walked to the bedroom and started packing my clothes. I took nothing away that the children could use, except their stepfather.

Several weeks later, she came to my apartment with the two kids and knocked on the door. I looked out the window to see who it was and then asked her through the door what she wanted. She told me that her electric had been turned off and wanted to know if she and the children could stay with me for a while, until she got back on her feet.

I told her, "No," which was very, very hard to do knowing that those babies were right outside of my doorway.

About 15 years later, I was remarried and the little girl, now a beautiful grown young lady, called me on the telephone and asked if she could come to my house to see me. I told her I would be very happy to see her. The next day, she came to my home and as I walked out to the driveway to greet her, she ran up and hugged me as tightly as she could. She told me she was so sorry for the way her mother treated me. She and I must have cried tears for 15 minutes.

I felt so sorry that she had to grow up all those years thinking that she, as an innocent little baby girl, would have to apologize for the actions of her mother. The girl had a mother, but inside was really an orphan just like me. I guess that is the high price that a parent must pay when sex means more to them than common sense and love.

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