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

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I could not help but notice the man as he secretly slipped off his wedding ring and place it into his front pocket.

The lady, who had sat down next to him on the wooden bench in the mall was very well dressed and quite attractive. I sat directly across from them watching as he struck up a conversation with the young woman.

I looked down at my own wedding ring and began to twist it around my finger. I looked down at the nicks and the scars, which it had suffered from never being removed from my finger. It no longer had its golden luster or its brilliant glow. I took a napkin from the McDonald’s hamburger bag and began to wipe, clean and buff the oblong circle, but it did no good.

The ring I wear on my finger is not just a sign that tells the rest of the world I am married to a woman. It is so much more than that. It is a sign; it is something I have given to myself that lets the rest of the world know what kind of a man I am. It also tells the world I am a human being, who has fought very hard to be good, that I have fought hard to win the battle of my youth, that in spite of my many faults, I am a man who is very proud to have grown, and remained faithful and honorable to himself, as well as to his wife.

It has not been an easy battle. There have been many temptations along the way.

When my wife looks deep into my eyes, she sees how I truly feel. That is why my wife allows me to keep and wear the ring she bought me so many years ago.

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