Planet-Love.com
Off-Topic => Off-Topic Items => Topic started by: ReptilesBlade on November 27, 2010, 06:16:08 PM
-
I am not sure if anyone saw this but I thought I would share it with you all and get your thoughts on it.
http://lifestyle.msn.com/relationships/article.aspx?cp-documentid=26199835>1=32023
The night I met my husband, in the port city of Odessa, Ukraine, in late 2000, I stood against the wall in a restaurant at the Black Sea Hotel along with 200 other young women. They were decked out in their fanciest dresses, their faces caked with makeup. Dressed conservatively in my dark-gray pantsuit, I felt invisible in the sea of ball gowns. The two dozen men seated before us — all from America, mostly in their 50s or 60s — had come to find wives.
My best friend had begged me to come, and we'd ridden for 12 hours on a train from our small town on the Crimean coast. I thought it would be an adventure, if nothing else. Sure, maybe some small part of me entertained the idea of meeting someone interesting, but it didn't seem very realistic.
While the women met with their eager suitors, I leafed through a Russian-language brochure about the marriage broker hosting the event. The Atlanta-based company, European Connections, explained that after decades of feminism, American women had become undesirable partners for marriage, uninterested in having children. Russian women, it said, are more feminine, with old-fashioned family values. I knew nothing about America except for what I'd seen on TV, like old dubbed episodes of Beverly Hills 90210. It seemed plausible enough.
When I noticed a short, stocky man grinning at me, I thought, "Oh, no," and quickly turned away. But his interpreter was already walking toward me. "How old are you?" she asked. I said I was 25. "Would you like to talk to my client?" she asked. I shook my head no. "What do you have to lose?" she prodded.
His name was Carl, I learned, and he had a full head of black hair, which made him look younger than the other men, who were fat and bald. I sat at his table, and he asked me questions from a prepared list, speaking to me through the translator. I could understand some English from what I'd learned in school, but didn't speak it very well myself.
"Do you have kids?" he asked.
"Yes, a 2-year-old son."
"Do you like dogs?"
"Sure."
"Do you believe in prenuptial agreements?"
"Yes."
I learned that he was a 50-year-old Filipino-born emergency-room doctor, now living in Cape Coral, Florida. I felt no immediate attraction to him, but when he asked if I'd like to give my son a father, a life in America, and a college education, I had to seriously think about that. I was a single mother, working at a local post office and living in a tiny apartment with no hot water or heat, and sometimes no electricity. Ukraine is a relatively poor country, and the infrastructure was never fully developed outside of major cities during the Soviet years. I'd become pregnant at 22 by my boyfriend, who had then disappeared. And here was an educated man from America, promising my child the world. In return, he wanted a family. I thought, Maybe I owe it to my son, Dimitri, to try.
When Carl asked me to have breakfast with him in the morning, I accepted. For the next week, he treated me to lavish dinners, booked me a private room in his elegant hotel, and bought me a proper black dress to wear to my first opera, Carmen. He was an absolute gentleman: He never touched or tried to kiss me. It was a wonderful fairy tale of a week, and I was taken by how respectful he was. A translator came along on our dates, and on our last day together, Carl asked me to come to America. I would get a three-month "fiancée visa," he said, and then we would marry. (The visa arrangement was legal, I learned, since Carl had met me in person; a man can't just pick a photo of a woman and get her a visa.)
I thought about my son and the new future he could have. I didn't expect to fall madly in love with Carl, but he seemed like a kind man. In Ukraine, women don't necessarily expect to marry the man of their dreams; it's a hard life, and marriage is often more about security and stability than love. I confided in my mom, who worked as a post-office manager, and my dad, an instructor at a driving school, and they agreed: The opportunities for my son were too good to pass up.
Over the next 10 months, I took English lessons and e-mailed with Carl about the plan for my trip to the States. In the fall of 2001, feeling both nervous and excited about my new life, I arrived in Florida. Cape Coral seemed like paradise — the sun, the palms, the orange and lemon trees. As we turned into the driveway at Carl's house, it looked like a palace to me: a four-bedroom Mediterranean-style home with a sunroom that was bigger than my entire apartment.
Carl, however, did not complete the pretty picture in the way I'd hoped. The polite, generous man I'd met in my homeland seemed more distant here. The first thing he did was to introduce me to a cousin, an older woman who showed me how to cook and clean the way Carl liked. Next Carl made it clear that he wanted to start working on a family immediately. Indeed, the first time we had sex, it felt perfunctory and calculated, devoid of any passion. Yes, I felt disappointed, but I decided to look at the act as just another chore that would be required of me in my new role. Soon after, Carl brought home an ovulation test kit so he could start charting my cycle and focus on getting me pregnant. At one point, Carl even tried to make Dimitri look more like a son of his own by dyeing Dimitri's blond hair black. Shocked, I shaved my son's head; Carl just laughed.
Carl's behavior became controlling in other ways, too. He said it was too expensive for me to call my family, so he gave me one 10-minute calling card per month. When I wanted to send an e-mail, he'd privately enter his computer password, then press "Send" for me and log off. Needless to say, I was having doubts about this arrangement. Still, I was willing to sacrifice for my son, who loved his fancy, rambling new house, full of new corners to discover.
By the third month, I was pregnant. Carl and I got married in a courthouse in the fall of 2001; he said he would file for green cards for Dimitri and me. I thought Carl might be happier with a child of his own on the way, but as the weeks wore on, he grew increasingly possessive. I had no driver's license or even a key to the front door. When I asked for a key, Carl said I had nowhere to go. He had a point: I had no money, no friends, and no idea how to navigate this foreign country. He would say, "Oksana, I thought you'd be obedient. This is the impression you gave me in Ukraine." I felt like a child, and quickly became withdrawn, mostly staying indoors taking care of the house.
Carl grew increasingly domineering toward my son, too. One time, when Dimitri ripped the wallpaper in his bedroom, Carl grabbed him and spanked him so hard, there were full red handprints on his backside. After that, I told Carl I wanted to leave. But Carl begged Dimitri and me for forgiveness, saying he hadn't had any experience with children. And he refused to pay for my ticket home.
Not long after, we moved to the town of London, Kentucky, where Carl had taken a new job in a hospital. "It will be a fresh start for us," he said. But his usual behavior soon resumed. Saying he was concerned about the water bill, he insisted that Dimitri flush the toilet only once a day, so my son had to pee in an empty milk jug all day and flush it down at night. Carl also began hitting my son again and dyeing his hair black. When I threatened to leave — and sleep on the streets if I had to — Carl had a new threat in return: He told me that he had not, in fact, filed paperwork for Dimitri's green card. He would deport my son, he said, but keep me here. (My own green card was still in the works, as I awaited an interview with immigration officials.) I felt trapped. I didn't know where to turn; in Ukraine, there were no shelters or social services for women, and the police were corrupt.
Our son, Giovanni, was born on Independence Day, July 4, 2002. Thankfully, he was a healthy baby boy, even though Carl hadn't taken me to a doctor for prenatal care until seven months into my pregnancy. In those first few days with my newborn son, I would look at him and try to imagine that his father was someone I loved. Staring out the kitchen window at the golfers on the lush green course, I dreamed of escape. Carl, meanwhile, wanted to start working on more babies as soon as possible. So I lied about my menstruation days to throw off his charts.
Just when I felt on the verge of an emotional breakdown, something happened that would change everything: I was at the local Walmart one night with Carl and the kids, who were then 9 months and 4 years old, when Dimitri got lost in the store. When we found him, Carl twisted Dimitri's ear so hard that my son let out a terrified shriek. A shocked bystander called the police, who arrived with a social worker. She talked to us in the store, then came to our house the next day. With Carl away at work, I told her my story.
On the morning of May 5, 2003, nearly two years after I'd come to America, I packed a few things, per the social worker, and called her while Carl was at work. A policeman drove the kids and me to a shelter; Carl filed for divorce the next day. The shelter connected me with pro bono lawyers from a domestic-violence association. They would help me obtain child support, finalize my green card, and fight for custody of Giovanni.
After three months in the shelter, the kids and I moved into low-income housing, and I saved everything I could from child support to buy a used car. Eventually I got a job at a Pizza Hut and began attending community college to train as a dental lab technician. During this time, my mom came from Ukraine to help with the children. In November 2004, I was awarded custody. But for the next six years, Carl dragged me back to court on technicalities and appeals.
Today, I live and work in Louisville, Kentucky, and am in a relationship with a wonderful man I met at a friend's Thanksgiving dinner. Dimitri and I are U.S. citizens. I bring Giovanni to visit his father every week, but Carl and I do not speak. He is allowed to file for a custody review every two years, so I'm expecting a new court summons any day. Still, I no longer fear that my children will be taken from me, and we have a good life. Would I do it all over again? No. But I don't look at life in terms of what I should have done differently. I hope that by telling my story, I can help another woman like me. Perhaps the most important thing I've learned is that there are options for women in America: You don't need to stay in an abusive situation. You can get help.
-
so there were no controling pricks in the Ukraine so she had to come all this way to find one ......correct?
there are 3 sides to every story & what we have here is only 1/3 of the whole story.
it sounds bad but i still will not put much stock in it.
pig
-
Sensationalism sells. You'll never hear about Robert and Joy or the other FilAm couples that I met Thanksgiving evening. They're happy and in love and you'll never hear about their marriages in any form, because that doesn't sell. The only news in today's world is bad news.
Its to the point that I don't get the paper and I don't watch the news at all. If something is going on that I need to know about everyone will be talking about it tomorrow at work. I don't need to be first to hear it. This story is the same as any other news, sensational and not representative of what is REALLY happening.
Bill
-
Whew...Thank God "Carl" turned out to be a controlling, abusive jerk! I was starting to think that he might be a normal, decent guy...how boring that "story" would have been! I don't see why she is complaining? She got a job better job in the US (at Pizza Hut) and Dimitri got black hair. But let's not forget her real goal in this MOB "tale" of abuse...she and Dimitri became U.S. citizens. ::) Where do we go to hear "Carl's" version? LOL
-
Toilet flush once a day!!! Carl must have peed and [snip]ted on his pants all the time lol
-
So true that the ones that are happy stories won't make it into the news.This one was probably reported by some feminazi.I remember seeing a story (on TV) about a Russian woman who was brought to the US, by Russian men, and promised work.When they got her here she was supposedly forced to work as a stripper and prostitute.When she was interviewed I didn't believe a word she was saying even when she let those crocodile tears flow.It was all fake.
Researcher
-
If her story is true, of course, we all know how loser Carl is. But what if her story isn't accurate?
What if :
1) She always was on the phone 1 hour every day. I can understand how Carl feels about paying lots of money on the phone. Perhaps he had warned her not to use the phone too much, but she ignored him.
2) She always had bath twice a day - full of water (toilet flusing business - I find it hard to believe)
When my ex-novia from Romania visited my apartment for a month Christmas vacation about 7-8 years ago, she expected too much from my apartment.
For example,
1) she expected new clean bath towel everyday when she never had it in Romania. Was I expect to wash all 14 clean towels every week?
2) She complaint that it was too far to walk to shopping centre when it is only 5 minutes walk. She wanted to go on a bus. It costs me about $6 for both of us - but imagine per day! In Romania she walked 45 minutes each way everyday to go to work and then go back home! She needed to learn that I do not live in a 5-star hotel !!!
3) She complaint of boredom when I was working on the computer in the 3rd week as part of "Marriage Trial" to see how we got on. Obviously the test failed! I had to let her use my computer but she was on it all day. Back then I did not have 2 computers and the Internet connection was based on "pay per minute" - very expensive to use it around that time.
-
Sensationalism sells. You'll never hear about Robert and Joy or the other FilAm couples that I met Thanksgiving evening. They're happy and in love and you'll never hear about their marriages in any form, because that doesn't sell. The only news in today's world is bad news.
Its to the point that I don't get the paper and I don't watch the news at all. If something is going on that I need to know about everyone will be talking about it tomorrow at work. I don't need to be first to hear it. This story is the same as any other news, sensational and not representative of what is REALLY happening.
Bill
I know exactly how you feel, Bill. The only news I get now is from the radio, and it's enough. I find myself dropping out more and more every day. There's nothing but sensationalism, doom, and gloom ... I'm tired of it.
-
Nah--you guys have it wrong. The news stories that are reported are all the same, day after day, except they change the names, numbers and pictures around a bit!
For the weather, they have sets of cubes for the various seasons, with cubes geared to with numbers for temperature and words like 'p. cloudy', 'p. sunny' (duh) , 'windy', etc....
They put them in Yahtzee cups, spill em out and divine the news and weather from that.
If that's not bad enough, several studies have shown (seriously) that posting the dow jones 500 page on a wall and throwing darts at it and investing where the darts hit, usually produces higher profit returns than what the experts at investment brokerages typically get...
Where my wife comes from, nobody really bothers with the newspapers, although they still somehow have more newspapers to choose from in most areas than we do in North America.
They don't bother much with the TV news either. Yet if there's a natural disaster of significance any where in the world, if a world leader gets assassinated, the Koreas are at it again, if there's a big movie, if Kobe Bryant gets busted, or if J lo or Leonardo DeCaprio get married, they all find out some how and pretty fast at that.....
-
This Story....Garbage......One sided.....Rubbish!
Just like the Pig said.....There are 3 sides to every story:
Her Side
His Side
And the Truth
We only got 1/3, Where is the balance?
Zulu
-
Oh--I think it'd be a perverse success story to have a season of shows--mocudramas--titled 'My mail order bride disaster story'--showing guys who did it all wrong and the pit falls that followed...It would be a mix of comedy and tragedy and I bet people would eat it up.
Either way, from the male or the female in the 'victim role' scenario, I bet people would eat that crap right up.
"If it bleeds--it leads"
-
True Robert.
We Americans love to watch a nice bloody "train wreck"; part of our national obsession and fascination, and metaphorically experienced via daytime soaps or reality TV.
But, if given the choice, we also love a great story with a "happily ever after" ending.
I think if our P-L journeys were documented and morphed into fictional characters, that movie, or TV show, would blow away the 'mail order bride disaster story'.
We have to level the playing field and counter the propaganda, half trues and blatant lies and misinformation that espoused IMBRA and the draconian anti-male laws and legislation that have been enacted over the last two decades.
We need a P-L member who is also a great screen writer!!
I think that inevitably, most people, even feminists see themselves as the protagonist in the play of life and want a happy ending. Political agendas aside, as much as we like to watch the "train wreck" we don't want to be the victim.
Like Walter Middy and most recently Halo on the XBOX we only want to vicariously participate in death and destruction and failed lives and relationships, most sane people don't want to crash and burn, we only want to watch that crap at the movies, on cable or read about it on internet blogs such as Perez Hilton or TMZ!
If given the chance, we choose the high road and the fairy tale ending every time.
Zulu
-
http://lifestyle.msn.com/your-life/just-dreaming/article.aspx?cp-documentid=20522341
Better story. ;)
-
(http://www.freesmileys.org/smileys/smiley-music002.gif)
-
I must say these past couple of years on the internet (including PL) I've read a lot of harden views based on different ideologies/ platforms. Granted if you get your news from conservative radio or Fox News you probably believe this woman to be a scam artist working her con. If you watch MSNBC the story probably made you cry. :D
Unfortunately unless both submit to a lie detector test we'll never know what actually happened. But yes I wouldn't be surprised at all if they were using each other for their own reasons.
What I find interesting is how the story starts out. According to the "victim" she wasn't even interested in an introduction to this man... so after that you know it is clearly going to be a train wreck (which is what sells... this journalist does want to keep her job like the rest of us).
You can hate the age police but they will almost always be correct statistically. Hate those that question the motives of an agency... but when you combine a profit motive and young beautiful women.... you get the idea.
Personally speaking as an age appropriate couple we don't encounter many of these issues. I don't worry about what people think of the MOB industry because that stigma just isn't attached to us.
There are evil women everywhere, but I must admit I do wonder personalitywise sometimes if American/Russian relationships are the best option. Sure there are great women everywhere as well, but why not just go to Latin America or Asia? Maybe I'm off base but if I married a Russian girl (say 23 years old) I think my chances of divorce would be higher.
I wanted someone that wasn't stubborn, could adapt, and spoke some English. Those turned out to be very key traits.
-
Unfortunately unless both submit to a lie detector test we'll never know what actually happened. But yes I wouldn't be surprised at all if they were using each other for their own reasons.
bcc,
The reality in America today is:
Men=guilty as charged, no matter what you say, no matter what the facts prove, hell, no matter what!
Women=Innocent until proven guilty (on film with fingerprints, dna match with certified biometric scan)
I think this trend will continue for a few more decades and the pendulum will swing back! (Maybe)
Zulu
-
I think I mentioned this one, but hey--things kind of 'cycle' here anyways:
My awful favorite was the blonde Ukrainian beauty queen, who married an American, who adopted her son and took out loans to put her through med school.
As soon as she graduated and began making the paltry pay new 'almost doctors' make for years in residency work--working long hours (so you might need big bucks for child care) she divorced the dude, leaving him with hundreds of thousands of dollars in med school student loans to repay, as well as child support for a child he didn't even sire.
Be careful how much you trust and how you set things up! I know you have to take chances to win big in life, but be careful out there!
-
I think I mentioned this one, but hey--things kind of 'cycle' here anyways:
My awful favorite was the blonde Ukrainian beauty queen, who married an American, who adopted her son and took out loans to put her through med school.
As soon as she graduated and began making the paltry pay new 'almost doctors' make for years in residency work--working long hours (so you might need big bucks for child care) she divorced the dude, leaving him with hundreds of thousands of dollars in med school student loans to repay, as well as child support for a child he didn't even sire.
Be careful how much you trust and how you set things up! I know you have to take chances to win big in life, but be careful out there!
MAN talk about getting a screwing poor bastard :(
pig
-
Of course, we could also point out the current Divorce Rate here in the US, with no foreigners involved AT ALL! :-\
Several (well, most) of my close friends I grew up with are all divorced now, ALL of them because the lady was screwing around (literally) with other guys. In their cases, though, the guys had amassed a good amount of evidence and filed first, so in the end they came out "OK" at least.
-
These kinds of situations and the modern day divorce stats are reasons why common sense should be involved in the decision to get married.Risks are still involved no matter what but getting to know someone and deciding if they are right for you is just the common sense thing to do,IMHO.I broke up with many women that I cared about, it wasn't easy, but I knew they weren't right for me.In the end it paid off...so far.
Researcher
-
I broke up with many women that I cared about, it wasn't easy, but I knew they weren't right for me.In the end it paid off...so far.
I have learned this very simple but important rule firsthand.
I wasn't so smart. I let my heart think for me.....mistake....cost you more in the end and hurts.
I ignored common sense and good judgment.
A mistake that I will not repeat.....if I can help it.
Zulu
-
In my first marriage, I made the mistake of marrying her, because for one big reason, I felt 'sorry' for her awful childhood as an orphan.
Boy was I eventually 'sorry' for that decision! Never marry someone because you feel 'sorry' in a large way for them.
Regarding infidelity--being 'screwed around' on and divorce, It means less and less in most places. Fortunately, it wasn't a factor in my divorce, but in discusions with my lawyer, he said in our county, having 'affairs' while married or while separated, or taking prescribed medicines like valium if 'exposed in court', had virtually no bearing on the outcome of a divorce--the property separation, child support if applicable, etc.
He pretty much said they had formulas they stuck by on property separation and child support and unless you were a major narcotics abuser, already in jail or a notorious pimp--that kind of person, it'd have no bearing on the outcome really.
He told me that almost everyone down at the court house themselves was an adulterer and on some kind of drug or another.
BUT--had it been in an outlying county----'out in the sticks' as we say, he told me the situation could be different.
-
Kids were my weakness. Bad decision. Next time, I'll only raise my own.
Zulu
-
Zulu,
Is that cute lil 'kid' I see holding onto a pole in your most recent avatar, one of yours? :D
-
Robert,
Yes! She's my Pinay! :D
Zulu
-
Oh--I think it'd be a perverse success story to have a season of shows--mocudramas--titled 'My mail order bride disaster story'--showing guys who did it all wrong and the pit falls that followed...It would be a mix of comedy and tragedy and I bet people would eat it up.
Either way, from the male or the female in the 'victim role' scenario, I bet people would eat that crap right up.
"If it bleeds--it leads"
A back in 2010 post.
Guess they thought: "NOBODY would EVER watch a TV show like that!"
Later:
>"""90 Day Fiancé/First episode date
January 12, 2014
Image result for when did 90 Day Fiance debut?
Number of episodes: 79
Number of seasons: 7"""<
Heck, I got a couple movie scripts roughed out that came from threads here too. That~and a couple bucks, will get me a bus ride....