By | 05.02.2019

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Finding the perfect dating website can be as difficult as searching for love itself. However, complaints filed against OKCupid, Match. The FTC has not verified all of the complaints. Most of the romance scammers were reportedly from Nigeria. Some alleged victims of romance scams criticized the dating websites for doing little to weed out con artists or failing to shut down their accounts after they are reported to the company. Users of all three sites also grumbled about poor customer service, citing difficulty finding a phone number for a live representative and complaint emails being answered by a form letter or not at all.

I heard him called a scumbag now I believe it. These are two insecure selfish people. Ryan Willier is on Dating Complaints and is in a relationship with a woman. He is a cheater ladies. He is not to be trusted at all. Do not fall for his lines he will he tell you. He has cheated multiple times on his GF….

If you see this guy just run. After being legally married for only 9 months she cheated on her husband which also just happened to be only a month before the wedding in Mexico. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Where do I begin? Never thought I would be dealing with a homewrecker. I have been married for 12 years. Together with my husband for 14 years. We have 3 beautiful children.

It seems as though this began when she started babysitting.

We thought it would be useful to have someone there to give a helping hand. Guess it is true: This whore was starting to come on to my husband. Here is this witch looking bitch trying to be a sneak. He is 37 years old, ummm, come on you little immature slut. I would hear little stories of her trying to give him a kiss on the forehead, cheeks. Then it escalated to trying the lips.

I would hear stories of her coming to babysit in skimpy clothes, heels. In my home there was no need to be impressive. My husband was sick once with the cold and she thought it would be okay to climb into bed with him!!! At this point in the game I just about had it.

I was like oh this bitch is going to get it. Once you start telling my kids imaginary stories your done. Well, I actually composed myself and tried to see what else would happen. She seems very obsessed with herself. Taking selfies constantly, I mean constantly. I recently came across her Instagram account and was astonished as to what I saw.

She managed to snap pictures of her and my husband and started posting them on her account. Has she lost it? You are the babysitter and you are doing this to my family. Another picture pops up of him alone and then her next to him in a framed setup. I was starting to really have boiling blood. I let her go. But she still continued to make me feel like she was still a presence in our lives. Few days go by after she gets fired, I see a picture again posted only this time on her Facebook as the cover photo.

Why the hell would she have my husband and her on her Facebook cover?! I send her a message via Facebook. Makes me question him. He noticed it all but never thought much of the pictures taken. Till this day she still messing around with my family. Women were always at fault: If our shorts were too short or our V-necks too low we were sluts. If a man was tempted by us and acted on their lusts it was never their fault, and we women were the ones to blame.

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The gossip about certain girls was unwarranted, and created a lot of tension which could have been avoided. I was numb, and angry at my church, and I lashed out by giving away what they prized most in a woman: Afterward I was so scared to tell anyone for fear of complete rejection from the place I called my sanctuary. I was still in a place of social isolation, and I did not want to go further down that path.

He was a man I had noticed in a local community hang out, and a year had gone by before I ever had the nerve to talk to him. He was handsome, well dressed, always studying while sipping his coffee and eating his scone. Finally I built up the courage to say hi to him, and surprisingly enough we spent three hours talking. This man was intelligent, hilarious, amazing at conversation.

He was gracious and manners of a gentleman who never overstepped his boundaries: On top of all that he was a Christian from birth. I knew the conversation of sex would come up at one point, and when it did I was visibly shaking. When I finally told him he gave a nonchalant okay. I guess at some point I will have to wrap this up. The PK I considered my best friend? We had a very tough, but very deep conversation on how he made me feel worthless.

Would you ever tell her she was used goods? We went through a rough patch right after the incident, but have bounced back.

He and I are still best friends and talk weekly. The last man I dated in this story was the last man I ever dated. We were engaged after three months and married after five. We will be married six years in , and we have a wonderful, vivacious son turning five in a few weeks.

Books like I Kissed Dating Goodbye create a culture of self-righteousness and shame, which push out those God wants to love and heal the most. Our son will never read the book, and if he is lucky will never have to worry about the Purity Culture. He will love and respect the any woman he is with, and I will bring him up to never shame a woman in the way I was shamed because of that damned narrow ideology.

Your mind and your decisions are no longer yours, and you become accustomed to the suffocating, toxic air that lives inside of Evangelical church settings. My story is full of rage, fear, and anger. It takes an incredible amount of self-control to tame this part of me, this angry side of myself that imprisons my thoughts. Writing helps me alleviate this sickening weight inside my chest, until it becomes unruly again and manifests itself in some form of self-depreciation. Words are the tangible umbilical cord from my soul to the paper.

The handshake between thoughts and reality. They give me life, and so I will tell my story to quell the pain, and to find temporary healing. I was 13 years old, and desperate for my youth group crush to like me back. I can already feel the anger frothing beneath my veins. What I remember most clearly from the event was the troupe of actors and actresses role-playing different dating scenarios on stage. I had never dated anyone before, but I believed these people to be sincere and accurate in their representation of the dating world.

It was a scary place to be. Guys just wanted sex, and girls were just helpless victims. There was a big red heart on stage made of construction paper. Every time they acted out a different dating situation, they would violently rip a piece of the heart off until it was no longer a heart.

Eventually it was a pile of shreds on the floor. Is that what you want? She paced around and made an exaggerated exhale into the microphone. Flirt a little, then look away! The audience laughed nervously. A deep sense of shame started hardening in the pit of my throat.

She was right, I had done this moments ago. Oh my god, I had done this exact same thing. I had lusted with my eyes, I wanted my youth group crush to notice me. Such a small moment, but something I still remember after twelve years.

But that is the unfortunate thing with teaching kids about love and dating and sex before they even know what any of that is.

They will believe you. They are convinced of something before they are even allowed to have an opinion about it. But today I am well aware of the judgmental voices in my head that give me panic attacks and shut off the part of my brain that permits sexual arousal. Maybe it was the day I went on a mother-daughter weekend on the Cape and listened to Dennis and Barbara Rainey explain how sex was just like approaching the edge of a cliff. Oh, and then there was the demonstration of the glass of water.

The pure glass of water, slowly darkened by the various drops of food coloring until it was murky and brown. Until of course, the bleach aka Jesus wipes you clean of all your terrible mistakes. Your body is sinful. Oh Jesus, come and save me from myself. Or maybe it was day my mother handed me a bunch of papers she had printed out and stapled together. It was about a bride who had saved her first kiss until her wedding day.

I remember her picture.

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She was beautiful, blonde, and happy, holding hands with her smiling husband. She was wearing a white wedding dress. This is what you need to be, this is the epitome of righteousness. This is how to have a happy marriage. At home, it seemed like every other week there was a new Christian book passively placed on top of my dresser. The older I got, the bigger my purity book collection grew. These books taught me that the older I got, the more susceptible I was to boys and risky sexual behavior.

My body was a dangerous thing. I now had boobs and my pants were much tighter around the hips and thighs. Where was this coming from? I had no control over it anymore. It was becoming voluptuous and needy. It wanted to be noticed. Its heart would beat fast around cute boys at school. It would sweat, get shaky, adjust its hair times in the mirror until the perfect ponytail was achieved. This body was sexual, curious, excited. This body was dangerous. This body was sinful. This body belonged to Jesus, not to myself.

The month of October I decided to become anorexic. The concept was simple enough. Eat less, exercise more, get skinnier. Deny myself, just like Jesus would. It was a completely holy act, just like fasting.

I was not comfortable with the fact that my clothes were tight, or that my cleavage stared back up at me when I looked down. These parts of my body were disgusting, quite frankly. They were symbols of sex, which my mind was programmed to believe were very bad things.

For the next year and a half of my life I starved myself like a professional. I lost twenty-eight pounds in about four months. I did very well. I ran my fastest high school times. I was so thin, and so fast. I was on top of the world. I only had enough energy for homework, running, and passing out by 9pm with barely a whisper left in my body. Life consisted of 1, calories a day.

It was perfectly in control. I stopped getting my period. My breasts were numb and practically inverted. My hips and my cheekbones protruded like sharp daggers. My skin was dull and dry. I had no sexual appetite anymore. The only life I could stir inside my cold, hollow corpse was the fuel to survive one more day.

This is how I would stave off sexual desire, by distracting myself with calorie obsession and fucking up my hormones until sexual urges disappeared.

I would be perfectly preserved for my husband until marriage. Although riddled with guilt and shame for engaging in normal human behavior, like wanting to be touched or wearing tight-fitting dresses that showed off a body I had to teach myself to be proud of, I somehow managed to embrace things like feminism, LGBT rights, and secularism.

Jesus does not make choices for me. Boobs and butts and hips scare me. Wanting sex in my relationship is a constant challenge. I am so fortunate that he is patient and loving, and knows that my irrational accusations are just indoctrinated fears momentarily awakened in my subconscious when challenges arise. But my husband and his parents did. The book, combined with the permeation of purity culture into Evangelical Churches did a number on us in our journey to marriage.

My husband and I made the decision to stop going to church about a year into our marriage and we questioned if we even wanted to be Christians. It is all an internal guilt game. It is still unhealthy. I grew up in a first-generation evangelical family. Purity culture was part of my friend group, but not specifically encouraged by my parents. All my friends had gotten a purity ring when they turned thirteen, but my parents for had never heard of them.

I did get a purity ring for my birthday, along with an awkward conversation, followed by an awkward silence. I thankfully never had a sense of shame or guilt. They had always allowed me to be independent and supported me when I made mistakes. My husband was homeschooled and the IKDG form of courtship was the only way. We met at age 19 in class.

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We learned that we were both Christians. From when we met in August until he went home for Thanksgiving in November, our friendship grew stronger. We went to church together, served together, did ministry together. I met his parents when they came to visit. He spent so much time at my house hanging out with me and my family that he already was part of it. We talked in early December and he told me he was pretty sure that we would eventually get married.

I was able to trust my instincts, trust my own judgement and enter into a relationship with my own will, not by asking for permission from my dad or anyone else. I have no regrets about marrying my husband. There was no conversation. We decided it was wiser to call our relationship what it was and seek accountability from our Christian mentors. We dated for a couple months and told no one except our pastor, who was helping us figure out how to handle the situation.

When his parents found out we were dating, all hell broke loose. They pulled him out of classes for 2 weeks and brought him home. They took away his phone and any method of contacting anyone. They threatened to change the locks on the house, giving him nowhere to go and no stuff. His mom even kicked him and threw things at him out of anger. He somehow convinced them to let him go back to school to finish the semester.

When he came back, at only 20 years old, he cut all financial ties with his parents. He left the place his parents were renting for him.

He returned the car they gave him. He found a job. With a deepened sense of commitment to each other he was willing to give up a relationship with his parents for me, I was willing to deal with his parents for him , we started making plans for our future together.

We got engaged after a year of dating. You are not the son we raised. They refused to smile in pictures, and for the cherry on top, screamed at me, blamed me for destroying their family, and stormed off during the reception.

Luckily, the rest of our families both sides were great and helped distract us from how horrible they were on our special day. It is still hard to be around his parents, but its slowly getting easier. We see them once or twice a year because it is all we can handle. It is hard when authority figures like parents are SO far off base of what is the right thing. My body was surprised by the new mechanics of sex and my poor husband was trying to find cranberry juice at 11 pm in the tiny town where we stayed, and everything had already closed at 6 pm.

Meanwhile, I was crying on the toilet from a bad UTI. No one had really talked about the rarity of vaginal orgasms for women. I was normal, 2. He was normal, 3. After several months of practice, sex went from ok to great. After three years of marriage, most of the time its vaginally and at the same time as my husband. I credit some of this to fooling around before we walked down the aisle and some of it because I never read that damn book. Sexual compatibility is a real thing and not being allowed to touch before marriage is ridiculous, risky, and foolish.

I have two courtship stories. One was much rockier. There are reasons for each. My childhood was unique, though unassociated with any particular conservative or fundamentalist group. My entire extended family was close, and I think a lot of ideas my family had were derived from searching Scriptures together in sincerity.

It was beautiful and something to enjoy for the first time with that wonderful someone on our wedding night. My parents were openly affectionate, though within the privacy of our home. Sex, bedroom issues, intimate topics, and anything of that sort were reverent - not to be joked about.

They were just trying to do the best they could with a difficult topic. At 19, a wonderful young man and I began courting. I had fallen in love with him 3 years earlier, and had dreamed of this day. My father set very few guidelines aside from saying no physical touching, and that we must have someone with us if we left the premises. We were allowed alone time as long as we were in a general area.

Other than that, there were simply no guidelines. My 2nd sister has been in a courtship for over a year at this point. My father and and I have a great relationship. I love him deeply, and I know he loves me even more. My dad and James started to email.

Once we both realized it could? James came for a visit in June to talk to my dad in person. James went home and we both waited in agony. By this time, my 2nd sister is now engaged, and my 3rd sister is in a courtship. I think all of that is pertinant info concerning how my parents handled my courtship. By the time James and I started courting, we were ready to be married.

We were sure and we were ready. His parents were sure and ready. Our families had been close friends for 8 years. They were not nearly as confident in him as I was. James was only what? When my family moved away. December, my sister got married.

My brother was now courting as well. After a long day of losing a very close sister for the first time to marriage, that night, we broke the rules. It was romantic, and beautiful, and the stress melted away. We kissed, and walked inside. The next day, James broke the news to my dad over breakfast.

At that point, he felt that the most honorable thing he could do was marry me. What he meant as a sign of respect toward me came to be seen as a very presumptuous act to my poor father.

Break the rules and then ask for a reward? I said a tearful goodbye and we headed back home. A month later, my parents informed the both of us that we were to have a 2 week sabbatical from one another as punishment.

They feared we were making an idol out of one another and needed to reevaluate our hearts. This is where I think my parents made their biggest, though very well intentioned, mistake. The next month, James came for a visit. No matter how vigilant my parents thought they, or my siblings were, we held hands, kissed, hugged…. Unfortunately, at this point we were desperate. With the threat of a possible dismissal of our courtship hanging over us, the new engagement of my 2nd sister and the love of her life, and miles between us, we were literally in despair.

2 comments

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