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Author Topic: Train Wreck Story From The Internet  (Read 9025 times)

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Offline shakespear

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Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« on: October 12, 2008, 09:28:27 PM »
Edit Note: This NOT my story. It is the story of Shane Neff.

---------------------------------------

All of this started for me back in February, 1998 rather by accident. I was "surfing" the CBS Winter Olympics web site one Saturday afternoon and clicked on a link that, somehow, directed me to a marriage-agency in Odessa, Ukraine called, "Odessa Orchids." Strictly out of curiosity, I checked-out a couple of the women's profiles and sent a brief e-mail with an attached photo as an introduction. What the heck? I had been divorced since 1990, was 38 years-old and mainly had just been bouncing-around from one casual relationship to the next.

Soon, I received a response from one of the women I wrote, a 34 year-old physician with a 4 year-old son from a previous, unmarried relationship. It was quickly apparent that she spoke NO English whatsoever, by the "quality" of the response I received, but I didn't let that discourage me. She sounded charming. The translated responses I received were about 75% "comprehensible" and the rest I got the "jist" of by simply reading between-the-lines. My curiosity piqued, I decided to try getting to know this lady a little better.

During this "courtship" phase, I also decided that it would be a good idea to try to meet this woman "half-way" on the issue of language. I found it difficult to ask someone to learn MY language without the common-courtesy of trying to learn a little of theirs? I spoke NO Russian. She spoke NO English. It seemed logical to pursue Russian language lessons with a private tutor, who I found through the Modern Languages department of my alma mater. Over the next 7 months, I studied Russian 6 hours a week with my tutor and his wife (from Oryol) and spent an hour each evening doing homework and listening to the "Russkaya Radio" web site with streaming-audio. This effort yielded results quickly. I was, by no means, fluent in Russian by the time I arrived in Odessa, but I could follow the "jist" of most conversations, read the billboards, restaurant menus, etc. While, I realize that this isn't possible for everyone to take upon themselves, and that my efforts were ultimately a waste of a time, I still bear no regrets for this part of the experience. It was a lot of fun.

Between March and October, 1998, we carried on a "torrid" exchange of e-mail that eventually escalated into weekly telephone calls, weekly telephone calls escalated into twice-a-week, etc. I was completely intrigued with this woman, despite the fact that we were unable to communicate directly, without the assistance of an interpreter. I had never "conversed" with a woman who possessed such deep, meaningful thoughts without reservation. It didn't take long for me to decide to make the trip to meet her.

I arrived in Odessa on October 10, 1998 at 4:30pm. I'll never forget "bouncing" down the runway to a halt, that hadn't been paved since Gorbachev was in power. My first thoughts, other than the natural anticipation of meeting this woman for the first time was, "I'm not in Kansas anymore, Toto!" Upon successfully making my way through Customs and the two, separate police checkpoints, I finally met "the girl of my dreams," shyly waiting for me at the passenger exit. Her photos didn't do her justice. She was much better-looking in person.

The next three weeks couldn't have gone any better. I mean that. I had never experienced a perceived state of "compatibility" with any woman to the same level as I did with her. We couldn't keep our hands off each other. We couldn't do enough to make the other happy. I left Odessa on October 30 with the conviction that I had found someone truly special and who wanted the same things in a relationship that I did. I couldn't wait to get the ball-rolling on her K-1 paperwork and even hired an attorney to assist me with it, as to ensure against me messing it up and causing any extra delays.

Between November, 1998 and March, 1999 we either called or e-mailed each other every day. We couldn't wait to be together. Everything went smoothly with her K-1 paperwork, the physical exams in Kiev and the interview in Warsaw. She landed at Chicago's O'Hare Airport on March 29, 1999. This is also the day I mark as the day everything began to fall-apart.

It soon became apparent that she wasn't nearly as glad to see me as I was to see her. I mistakenly interpreted this to be an indication of "homesickness" that could, understandably, be attributed to leaving friends, family, and everything familiar behind. She was also extremely "self-concious" about the 30 pounds she had gained between the time I left Odessa and the time she arrived in the USA. I found-out later that this was due to a "thyroid condition" that she never disclosed to me but, again, I assured her that a few extra pounds didn't detract from her appearance. I loved her all the same, although I was secretly shocked by her weight-gain. Nevertheless, I didn't treat her any differently, or with any less "desire" than I had before. My feelings for her were based on her inner-qualities, not her outward appearance.

When we arrived at home a couple of days later, things had not improved. In fact, if anything, they just got worse with her four year-old son's aberrant behavior added in the mix. Obviously, this woman never gave one prior-thought as to what she was getting herself into...having never been anyone's wife...or mother. Indeed, I was aware of the fact that her son lived-with and was raised-by her mother, while she pursued her career as a physician. I just underestimated the extent of her involvement/participation in raising the kid. Apparently, she wasn't much more than an "absentee" parent at any time in his life. Regardless, I was not allowed to discipline or correct the child in any way, shape or form. This was made painfully clear to me after the child purposefully punched me in the groin within hours of our arrival at home.

When I attempted to warn her son in a "forceful" tone of voice that "punching and kicking" was not acceptable behavior towards me, she became extremely upset, reminding me that he was not "my" son and that she would handle the discipline herself. This was the first "red flag" that things may not work-out. Aware of the fact that her son's attitude towards me was inspired by resentment and jealousy for the open affection I showed his mother, I decided not to press the issue of disciplining him right off the bat. I let it slide, as I did so many things early in our relationship.

For a child who just celebrated his fifth birthday, I found his behavior totally inappropriate for his age. Things like sneaking away from the dinner table to spit mouthfuls of food into the corners of his bedroom, physically attacking me every time I kissed his mother, pissing the bed, refusing to go to sleep at night and CONSTANTLY requiring attention seemed more like the behavior of a "toddler" than a five year-old, at least, according to all my friends with children the same age. My theory that being raised in a home devoid of a male role-model and exclusively by women seemed to have some basis. Again, I didn't "force" the issue or attempt to discuss it, given the limitation of our ability to communicate.

The most stressful event of our first week together, though, was her son waking-up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain from several rotten teeth, festering since he was the age of 3, according to the Pediadontist I ultimately had to have him treated by. This required a surgical procedure to the tune of $2600, all of which but $800 was paid by my company insurance. The rest came out of my own pocket and I had absolutely no qualms about it. The possibility of a "good night's rest" I considered money well-spent at this point.

Meanwhile, Natasha and I were having an extremely difficult time trying to communicate with each other, even in the simplest ways. You see, the entire time I was busting my ass, learning Russian before we met, she made NO effort whatsoever to learn English. God only knows what she did with the $125-a-month I was sending to her via Western Union? I thought I was paying-for e-mail translation and English lessons? I should have been alarmed by the fact that her knowledge of English hadn't progressed past "Hello," "I love you," and "Good-bye" but it didn't. As a former Department Of Defense-trained German interpreter in the U.S. Army, I fully appreciated the difficulty of learning a language COMPLETELY different than English. As a dumb-shit, in "love" I wasn't thinking rationally, though. I justified it with the thought that, hell, she's a doctor...I know she's smart...maybe she's just a late-bloomer? I had no doubts about her intelligence or her abilities.

It was this fundamental inability to communicate that, I have no doubt, was the main culprit for the failure of our relationship. I foolishly assumed that she also recognized this "obstacle" and would give it the same level of priority that I did. This was one, of several, errors in judgement about her that I freely admit. I can still hear the echo of my drill-sergeant's words, "Neff, when you ASSUME something, you make an "ASS" out of "U" and "ME!" :-) I only wish I would have heeded them the same way as I did some twenty years before!

Despite my best efforts to learn HER language, she adopted an opposing attitude: why try it until I'm in a situation where I absolutely HAVE to learn English in order to be understood? She had a very arrogant attitude about the language barrier that prevented us from making little more than small-talk with one another. Eventually, my attempts to communicate with her in Russian became a source of ridicule, with her either constantly correcting my minor grammatical/syntax infractions, or laughing out-loud at a Russian word I would mispronounce. I gotta tell ya, this went straight through my ass. It was a very belittling, condescending, and totally inconsiderate. I remained as patient as long as I could but, eventually, this became a tremendous source of frustration for me, that I verbally expressed on numerous ocassions with, "You don't understand because you don't WANT to understand!"

It was unbelievable. The harder I tried, the worse things became with our inability to communicate. I enrolled her in ESL classes and even introduced her to my Russian tutor. The only thing my efforts accomplished, though, was to create more resentment from her. Within a few months of her half-assed attempt to learn English, she gave it up completely, telling me that the only possible way she could learn English was for me to enroll her in the $4000-a-semester, "English Language Institute" program at my alma mater, Marshall University. After I got up out of the floor from laughing my ass off and composed myself, I (nicely as I could) told her there was no-way-in-hell I could afford such a thing on my teacher's salary. At least, not right now anyway.

She "interpreted" to mean that I was a "poor" man, unable to properly support a family! Subsequently, she was on the telephone within an hour, telling her friends (here in the USA) and family (back in Odessa) that I had lied to her about my income and was, in reality, little more than a pauper.

At this point, I was nearly going out of my mind about the entire situation. It was time to put my foot down and quit being a "doormat" for this woman and her kid. Like I said, it was damn near impossible to communicate with one another, due to the language barrier and her stubborn, childish-attitude. I was frustrated out of my mind, yet, I had maintained composure despite all of the inequities in our relationship. Things weren't going anything like I imagined they would, though.

I swear to God, I started thinking that someone had replaced the woman I met and stayed-with in Odessa five months earlier with her fat, evil-twin! I just couldn't understand how anyone could go through such a sudden, dramatic change in personality? It was borderline schizophrenic. The sweet, good-natured, easy-going girl that I fell in "love" with was now a mean-spirited, stubborn, intolerant, childish BITCH...and I didn't know this person! Only one thing to do: send 'em back home!

I purchased a one-way ticket for two to Odessa through an on-line "consolidator" and waited for it to arrive. I was dreading the inevitable confrontation, but there was NO WAY I could continue living in this situation. It was a nightmare.

50% of the time, she slept with her son at night. She had no physical attraction towards me at all and our sex-life was non-existent. Again, the exact opposite of our time together in Odessa. She resented the fact that she was married to a man who couldn't give her every thing she wanted, with the snap of her fingers. She didn't like the brand-new '99 Toyota Corolla that I bought for her. She wanted a larger car. She didn't like the 3-bedroom split-foyer that was our home. She wanted to live "in the city." She didn't like the public school where her son attended kindergarten. She wanted him to attend "private" school. As far as I could tell, there wasn't one aspect of her life here in the USA that provided her any satisfaction. Therefore, I thought I was doing her a favor by sending her back home? I sure wasn't going to continue tolerating the "poison pen" e-mails and long-distance, international telephone calls to friends and family, describing her life with a man she didn't think could adequately provide for them.

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn

Offline shakespear

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet -part II
« Reply #1 on: October 12, 2008, 09:29:27 PM »
The airline ticket arrived via Federal Express and was dated for a week from the day that I received it. I figured, well, there's no reason to delay this confrontation so, I waited until she got the kid to bed before I sprung it on her.

When she finished getting her son to bed, I told her that we needed to "try" to talk. Rolling her eyes in anticipation, she reluctantly agreed. I told her, with my Russian dictionary in-hand, that I couldn't continue with the "status-quo" in our home. I tried to explain that I wasn't going to be any woman's "slave" and that it was, obviously, best if she and her son returned home. Amazingly, she seemed to understand. I produced the airline tickets and told her to get ready. I couldn't stand any more of this shit.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, I received something from her that I thought I'd never hear: an APOLOGY. My God, it must have been hard for her? She told me everything that I wanted to hear: she knew she hadn't been "nice" to me, that it was wrong to continually "put me down" to her friends and family, she truly appreciated all that I had sacrificed and done for the both of them, etc. etc. etc. Like the true "sucker" I was at the time, I bought her "story" hook-line-and-sinker.

The 180 degree change in her attitude, with both a sincere apology and expression of remorse was so unexpected that I nearly tore-up the airline tickets right then and there, but I didn't. She asked me for another chance and I said, "Let's just see how it goes..." I didn't think it would be possible for her to maintain such a sudden, dramatic change in attitude towards me for very long. I was betting that the next few days would bear this out and I stashed the airline tickets for future reference.

I gotta hand it to her. She was a damn good actress and delivered a performance worthy of an Academy Award-nomination. She had all of her Russian friends here in the USA (all from the same marriage agency in Odessa) call me and "beg" not to send her back, give it another chance, blah, blah, blah. The most disturbing thing I was told, though, was that she'd be facing unemployment and being "ostrascized" by her friends, family, and former-colleagues in the medical profession upon her return. Little did I know at the time, she was far more "desperate" to stay in the USA than I ever imagined or that she would ever "hint" to. I thought she HATED it here? As you'll discover later, no, this was all part of the "plan" she came here with.

Five days of relative "bliss" featuring regular-sex, cooperation, understanding, and mutual-respect was about all it took to reconsider sending them packing. It was like I had flicked-on a "happy" switch inside her head? Combined with the continuous telephone-campaign from her friends, I decided to cancel their airline tickets at the last-minute and give it another shot. The LAST thing I wanted to admit was that I had wasted nearly $14,000 and countless hours learning Russian for this relationship. Hindsight tells me now that it was more a state of "denial" than a fear of making a bad investment and having nothing to show for it, though. Regardless, I just didn't want to spend the rest of my life second-guessing the decision to send them back. The only way to really know if things were going to work-out or not is if I kept them around a little longer.

A month later, we were married in a traditional, Russian Orthodox wedding. It was really cool, listening to the Priest chant the marriage vows in both English and Church Slavonic. The only other time I witnessed an Orthodox wedding was when I watched "The Deer Hunter." While it didn't particularly matter to me where we got married, or for that matter, HOW we got married, I chose this method to "honor" her cultural heritage and out of respect. I was raised as a Methodist and, of course, she was raised as a Communist, so I over-estimated how much this would have meaning for her. As it turned-out, marriage-vows made in a solemn, deeply-religious ceremony had about as much meaning to her as the concept of mutual-respect.

Her son stayed with my sister's family while we spent a five-day, four-night honeymoon at a friend's condo in Hilton Head, SC. Things were going so well, that I had practically forgotten about the six weeks of utter hell that she and her son had just put me through immediately upon their arrival. Our relationship was beginning to resemble something like I imagined it would be.

However, "marital-bliss" lasted approximately two-weeks before things returned to the way they had been, prior to my offer to send them home. Again, it was like she had a chemical imbalance in her brain? Another one of her "Jekyll & Hyde" changes in personality compelled her to wake me up at 1:30am one night with something I can only describe as totally bizarre.

I'm sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden I'm jarred awake. She told me that there was a "problem" and that "we needed to talk." In my sleep-induced stupor, I managed to say, "What's wrong? (Shto takoy?)

Well, she had been in the bathroom, looking in the mirror at the small pimples on her cheeks. She claimed never to have any problems with her complexion until she arrived in the USA...therefore, her skin problems HAD to be the result of some "fungus" I had passed to her during sexual-intercourse. HUH????

OK, imagine for a moment you're me (and be glad you're not). You've just been awakened from a dead-sleep, and forced to listen attentively to the ravings of someone who was, obviously, out of their friggin' tree! I had never heard such "delusions" in my life but, I held my tongue until she finished. She demanded that I make a doctor's appointment for MYSELF...and that she refused to sleep in the same bed with me until I had myself examined.

Upon this last demand, I said nothing, switched the light off, rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep, leaving her with the impression that her insanity wasn't even worth arguing about. I refused to even dignify it with a response. It was such utter madness.

The next thing I know, she picked up the ceramic lamp from the nightstand and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into a million-pieces. Well, that's when I got pissed. I rose-up out of bed like Linda Blair in "The Exorcist" and threw her out of the bedroom, locking the door behind me. I tried to go back to sleep that night but, ended-up just reading, smoking, and wondering how long it would be until I the cops were going to be called on me for domestic violence.

The next morning, I got up early and crept toward her son's bedroom to find the two of them there, sleeping together as they had nearly 50% of the time since arriving. Although I thought it was a little "odd" I didn't say anything. If this was the short-term solution to my ever-worsening sleep-deprivation, I was all for it.

Needless to say, I didn't make the doctor's appointment for myself. I didn't even acknowledge the events of the previous night. I cleaned-up the pieces of shattered lamp, got dressed, went to work and called my sister to have her come pick-up the kid for kindergarten. I wasn't really in the mood to see either one of them that morning...and as a public school teacher, with a classroom full of (Middle School) students to instruct on American History since 1929, I HAD to put-on my "game face" and not give any indication of all the problems I was having at home. Hey, thank GOD for my students! I give them ALL the credit for helping to keep me focused and maintain harmony and balance. At this point, it would have been too easy to become depressed about the horrible error in judgement I had made by bringing this woman and her son here. I couldn't afford to let this so-called relationship start affecting my performance on the job, with only a few weeks remaining in the school year.

Meanwhile, the deadline for filing their I-485's was rapidly approaching. June 29, 1999 was just a few weeks away, although I had decided to delay this final-step in the process for as long as I could. With things as bad as they were, there was NO WAY I was going to have the INS put their stamp of "permanence" on it. Little did I know at the time, Natasha had "sensed" this and started calling her friends again for advice.

The only thing I could think-of to do was "lie" about the deadline for filing. I called the INS and asked them what would happen if I waited past the deadline to file for her adjustment-of-status? They said, "not much," although it would be duly noted in her INS file that she and her son were considered "over-stays" if more than 3 months had passed since the filing deadline. No problem. I then told Natasha that, "the rules had changed" and that we had an additional 6 months to file. She didn't "buy" it, though. The conversations she had been having with her friends had yielded the real truth. Confronting me with it, I then told her that I wasn't comfortable taking any further steps this until things vastly improved in our relationship. I mean, I totally "came clean" with her and said that I wasn't going to perpetuate such a loveless sham of a relationship...and that I wasn't going to let her simply use me for a Green Card, if that was, indeed, her intention.

Her reaction to this "news" was to stop speaking to me, which I considered par-for-the-course. There was no "relationship" to speak-of anyway. Her kid was extremely jealous of any attention I showed her. We couldn't stand being around each other, she and I weren't sleeping together, and we were doing nothing together as a family. I couldn't see any point of making the effort until there was some tangible sign of improvement in the situation. I was getting weary of being the only one to make an effort.

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn

Offline shakespear

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet -part lll
« Reply #2 on: October 12, 2008, 09:30:28 PM »
The "lamp-smashing incident" had more of an effect on me than I let-on to her. Along with her other behavior, I naturally began questioning her mental-stability. Who wouldn't? As a teacher, I had witnessed just about every type of "aberrant" behavior you could imagine. I had never seen anything like the delusional, psychotic behavior I had just witnessed in the bedroom that night, though. I had to talk to someone about it, but who?

Conventional marriage-counseling was out of the question, due primarily to the language barrier, but I never truly believed her "doctor's-ego" would permit her to admit that SHE even had a problem. I checked this off this list of viable options.

I didn't think it was appropriate to discuss our problems with other RW/AM couples. I didn't think it was ANY of their damn business, but apparently she never failed to disclose every detail. I had NO idea as to the extent of their knowledge about our situation. The problem was, they only knew one, very-skewed side of it: her's. As I found out much later, they were better-informed than I was. I sure didn't have a "clue" as to what was "really" going-on.

My family was completely un-sympathetic. My mother was against the whole thing from the start but, never interfered in our business. Her attitude was one of, "benign indifference" about it. My sister was the same way, sypathizing more with Natasha and the kid, though, as "just off the boat" immigrants than with me, who she considered a moron for doing such a thing as getting involved with an RW. She took the view that most of society seems to have towards men who marry foreign women they've met via the internet: you're a loser, you couldn't make it happen with one-of-your-own-kind, therefore, you had to get a "mail order bride" in order to have a relationship. I know that's the last thing we want to consider when thinking about going down this road, but I really didn't care at the time about what anyone thought...or what people might "judge" for themselves based soley on outward appearance. I resented my sister for her attitude but, I genuinely appreciated the fact that she wanted to help with Natasha's kid. Still, discussing the kind of problems Natasha and I had was out of the question. I could predict what her response would be: "You should NEVER have brought them over here in the first place!" Yeah. Duh-huh. No shit. Thanks, but that's no help at all.

I've never been particularly religious, but it dawned-upon me to call the Orthodox Priest that married us. I didn't know if he had any training in marriage-counseling but, his Russian was a whole better than mine. Logic would seem to dictate that he'd also make a good choice as an "objective" third-party to serve as an intermediary. At this point, I was desperate to communicate with her any way I could.

I hate to tell you this, but Mr. Spock is wrong. Logic isn't always the best way to approach a problem and solve it. Sometimes "common sense" dictates and, unfortunately, it isn't always as "cut & dry" as the use of logic. It's especially true when dealing-with an unhappy RW.

When it comes to relationships with RW, you can pretty much throw your book of "logic" right out the window, along with most everything else you've successfully projected into any of your previous relationships. Most of the same rules just don't apply and it's important to realize when to go with your gut-instinct.

Raise your hands now: how many of you would think that contacting the Priest that married you, under the same premise as I had, would be a BAD idea? I'm talking disastrously bad. Yeah, me too. I thought it was a great idea!

I contacted him approximately six weeks after the wedding, under the pretense of just "thanking" him again for performing the ceremony and doing such a nice job. He was glad to hear from me. Being close to the same age, we found that we had a lot of common ground between us and talked a lot about the living conditions in the FSU, the role of the church there, etc. He also asked how things were going between us...and I was honest with him. I told him that our lack of communication had reached "critical mass"- to the point where there was an almost complete shut-down. We only spoke to each other when it was absolutely necessary.

Prior to the wedding, we attended the mandatory "church-counseling" session where the Priest explains the "sacred state" of marriage, the meaning of commitment, etc. It was very similar to what my Roman Catholic friends described going through before they tied-the-knot.

However, this was pretty much forgotten, in light of the fact that neither one of us were really Orthodox. I was a Methodist. She was a former "Komsomol" member and never attended church a day in her life, aside from funerals or the occasional wedding. All I really wanted, though, was to provide her with a wedding ceremony where she could understand the vows as they were recited. Otherwise, I had no intention of becoming a convert to Orthodoxy.

As a result, the "counseling session" didn't amount to much more than a "meet & greet" between us, a week before the actual wedding. When he asked about how we met, I saw his eyes "light up" when I said that we met via the internet. The phrase "mail order bride" was never used, but I could tell that's what he was thinking. I didn't let it bother me but I could see the look of "concern" in his face...

The Priest expressed no surprise to hear that we were having significant problems with communication. In fact, if I didn't know any better, it was like he was EXPECTING my telephone call. Sure, he was glad to "help" any way he could. Sure, he was glad to play the role of interpreter for us.

I approached the meeting I had scheduled with the Priest almost like a "Summit Meeting" between heads of state. I was really hoping for some kind of positive resolution, although I knew that would be stretching it a bit. With his knowledge of Russian, the Priest could act as our "intermediary" and help us get to the bottom of the real issues at-hand. At least, this is what I was hoping for?

To make a long story shorter, the meeting de-generated quickly into a "name-calling" session and melodramatic, emotional "melt-down" on her part. It was truly an amazing performance. She spilled her guts, saying that I "didn't really love" either her or her son, that I had only brought her here to be my "sex slave" and that I was, basically, the source of all her earthly misery. Naturally, the Priest ate this up. I managed to get, maybe, two words in edge-wise to explain MY side of the story, but I was cut-off and told to give him a call later when we could speak privately. To quote him directly, "nothing positive is to be gained here." I curbed my urge to say back, "Yeah, especially when neither one of you will give me a chance to speak!" but, I had to agree that this "scene," as he indicated, was a waste of time indeed. I maintained composure. She was an emotional-wreck and in no condition to have a rational discussion of our problems. I took her back home and decided to make no further attempt to resolve our problems this way. Obviously, I wasn't going to be given a fair chance to explain my side of anything. To quote Gomer Pyle, "surprise, surprise, surprise!"

However, without my knowledge, the Priest had set the wheels in motion to "rescue" her and her son from me. Behind my back, while I worked, she received a steady stream of regular visitors from the congregation of the Orthodox church, who came to my home on the pretense of just "checking-in" on her and the kid. Screw me, I was neither Russian nor Orthodox. I stumbled across one of these meetings unexpectedly one day, when I had to return home at lunchtime without warning. At the time, I was completely naive as to the purpose of these visits by the Priest and his wife, along with other, assorted church "busybodies," who couldn't restrain themselves from sticking their collective noses in our business. In fact, I thought it was "nice" that she was meeting other people in my hometown of Russian-descent. Was I stupid, or what???

I can only guess that she was advised to "play it cool" because once they realized that it was up to me to ensure their permanent stay in the USA by filing her I-485, Adjustment Of Status with the INS, the thing for her to do was to be patient, cooperate, and convince me that everything was OK. That's exactly what happened.

Within a week or so of our ill-fated "counseling session" with the Priest, she had done another "Jekyll & Hyde" 180-degree turn in her attitude...and I "bought it" as the real thing.

Now, you would think that the Orthodox church wouldn't take all that much interest in a non-Orthodox, Protestant and his Ukrainian, avowed-atheist and former-"Komsomol*" wife, do you? Yeah, I was surprised by the level of attention we were receiving, but I sensed no malevolence. People to chat with and who came to visit seemed to be doing wonders for Natasha and her son, so if anything, I encouraged it. Gone were a alot of the "symptoms" of homesickness, irritability, and her "self-loathing" in regard to appearance. I started to "relax" and let my guard down a little, too. If the price of "peace" was becoming more-involved with the Orthodox church, then I was willing to make that compromise. As long as I wasn't required to "convert" we'd have no problems.

Before I knew it, we were attending Sunday services (Vespers & Liturgy) and becoming more a part of this little conclave of Russian people that's very common in Central PA. Natasha had calmed-down considerably and we were actually beginning to communicate (albeit primitively) on an "adult"-level. We were back to sleeping in the same bed, a normal sex-life, and nearly what I had envisioned all along for the type of relationship I had been seeking when I went looking for RW. It really wasn't too bad. My only regret was not being able to spend more time with them. In the five months they had been here, we hadn't spent a total of three weeks together "at peace" as a family. I HAD to teach summer-school that year in order to pay for all the expenses of bringing them here, buying a new car for her, etc. We still had the weekends and evenings, though, and I resolved to make more of an effort to compensate for being away so often.

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn


Offline shakespear

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet -part IV
« Reply #3 on: October 12, 2008, 09:31:32 PM »
One evening, I received a telephone call from a fellow member of the congregation, who I had known for several years outside of the church. He and his wife were of Lebanese-descent (Antiochian Orthodox, but welcome in a Russian church all the same) and owned a successful Oriental & Middle-Eastern Imported Carpet store. They, too, had come to the USA as non-English-speaking immigrants thirty years before and had a special place in their hearts for others who had done the same thing. They were crazy about Natasha's son. He wanted to know if Natasha would be interested in coming to work at their store part-time, for a little extra pocket-money and a chance to practice her English with the another recent-immigrant to the USA that worked there, a Bulgarian girl, from Varna, whose immigration had been fully-sponsored by the Orthodox church's archdiocese in Philadelphia. I said, "I don't know, you'll have to ask her..." Being a former-physician, with the air of an "aristocrat," I was surprised when she accepted his offer. Again, I figured what could it hurt? Here's a chance for her to get out of the house a little bit, earn some extra bucks, and get a break from being "mamatchka" all the time. Everything seemed to "make sense" to me, just like the redneck who's last words are, "Hey y'all, watch this!"

The only "catch" to the whole thing: by agreeing to let her go to work for at the carpet store, I now HAD to make the trip into Pittsburgh to file an I-765 for her Work Permit with the INS...which I couldn't do until I first filed her I-485, Adjustment Of Status. I didn't realize it at the time, (everything had been so "hunky-dory" for two months since the incident at the Priest's office) but I was definitely being manipulated. I never once considered it, though, as I was fairly convinced that the "worst was behind us" and we had settled-in to a somewhat normal life together. I sensed neither discontentment nor ill-will from her. Therfore, I couldn't justify a reason to NOT take the final-step and get the last pile of documents completed so she could go to work. "Hey y'all, watch this..."

I spent four years on active-duty with the U.S. Army in West Berlin. I was airborne-qualified, having made the mandatory seven jumps at Fort Benning, GA...I attended French Commando School in Trier and Neuf-Breisach...and a number of other sphincter-tightening, military fear-experiences although, I was only an Interpreter attached to an Infantry division's G-2 office. What I was about to open myself up for was the most challenging test of my fortitude, mental stability, and impulse-control that I had ever experienced in my forty years of life on this earth.

Before I continue with, "Shane's Sphincter-Tightening RW Tale Of Terror" aka "My RW Story," allow me to take a moment to thank each and everyone of you who have bothered to express your appreciation and encouragement. It means a lot. For awhile now, I have wanted to sit down and really go into detail about this experience, with the benefit of total hindsight and a much "calmer" (believe it or not) perspective. Thanks for bearing-with me.

OK. So, I went on-line to the INS web site and ordered ALL the forms I needed to complete for filing of their AOS*. Believe me, it's a shit-load for two people. I called the INS in Pittsburgh and asked how much is was for all the fees, including the I-765, Work Permit: $505. No biggy. Three weeks later the packet arrived from the INS and my jaw dropped! The "AOS" packets I ordered for two people, including some extra copies of the I-485 and I-864 (for the un-avoidable screw-ups) was about three inches thick! It was intimidating as hell!

In the mean time, Natasha had gone to "work" down at the Lebanese Flying Carpet store three days a week and "wink-wink, nudge-nudge, know-what-I-mean, say-no-more" was paying her $125 a week "under-the-table." As I found-out later, he was doing more than just paying her "under-the-table," but I don't want to tip my hand too quickly. There's still a helluva lot more to tell first.

Upon seeing what I needed to do for all the documents, supporting documents, photos and other "hoops" the INS makes you jump-through to file AOS, I called Natasha's "boss" and told him that I was going to need some time to sort it all out. No problem. He would continue her "employment" for another month, until I had all the forms prepared to file. Jesus, it looked like a daunting task! Having used an immigration attorney for the K-1 filing, I wasn't prepared at all for the scope and magnitude of what dealing-with the INS entailed. It looked like a job for someone a lot more "detailed-oriented" than me!

I had to set aside an entire weekend to devote to all the damn paperwork. I started on a Friday night at the kitchen table and I didn't finish until Sunday night. I worked on it non-stop, except to get a little sleep. Once I finished, all I had to do was go to Sears Portrait-Studio and get them to shoot a few "visa" photos, get a letter from the school system stating I was gainfully employed, two copies of my most-recent paycheck stubs, and my 1040's for '96, '97, '98, Then, we'd be ready to rock n' roll!

Meanwhile, all had been going well with Natasha and I. I had no reason to think that anything was wrong and I sensed no "evil" thoughts from her. Her son was doing well in kindergarten, she had some extra pocket money, people to talk-with in her own language, and was actually beginning to take an interest in learning English again. I was pleased, but still a little concerned about her lack of self-control sometimes, especially when it came to disciplining her son...and the fact that she would pis-away her money within two days of pay-day, otherwise eveything else was pretty good. I couldn't recall a more extended period of "peace" between us and I wasn't about to jeopardize it, based on her previous displays. Was I intimidated by her? No. Did I fear having my home torn-apart? Slightly. I hadn't forgot about the shit with the lamp.

It was coming-up on October, 1999 and I had delayed filing their AOS as long as I could. Her "boss" was practically demanding that I get her a Work Permit so, on October 10th, the one-year anniversary of the day we met in Odessa, I sealed my own fate. We hopped in the car and made the 90 minute drive in to Pittsburgh for that big INS building on Liberty Avenue...and my date with fate.

As I mentioned before, things seemed to be going fairly well between us. There were still some "minor" issues that needed to be worked-out but, for the most part, we got-along quite well. It all depends on what you consider "minor" issues, though. I'll let you be the judge.

She had a tendency to "blow-up" on her son, whenever he didn't respond immediately to one of her requests. She beat him pretty savagely at times, using her elbow once to solidly connect while playing Nintendo one evening. I didn't see it, but when I heard the dull "thud" of someone being hit, I looked-up to see her arm "cocked" as if to strike another blow...and my jaw dropped. She looked at me, knowing she had screwed-up by allowing me to witness this cowardly attack on a person, one-quarter her size. Her son started crying, but she continued playing the game as if nothing had happened. I just stared in numb disbelief. A few minutes later, she "hissed" something through-her-teeth about being "selfish" to him...and I thought, "My God, you're one to talk, bitch." I said nothing, though. Looking back now, I shouldn't have hesitated to report her for child-abuse but, at the time I felt just as "guilty" for being a silent witness. My role in the relationship regarding her son had been clearly defined from day one: he was her kid, not mine. I didn't have a "right" to say anything about the way she disciplined him.

Another time, I caught her striking him in the back of the head with a clenched-fist, when she caught him stuffing his cheeks with food (to spit-out later in the corners of his bedroom). I couldn't say as I blamed him, though. Her cooking sucked. He was used to eating things the way his "babushka" made them. She was more than happy for me to take over 50% (or more) of the cooking-duties. I mean, there was only so much cabbage, radishes, beets, and pork I could eat on a semi-daily basis. My bowels were forever grateful.

The other thing that was becoming more of a problem: Natasha had a bad habit of talking to me like a "dog" whenever we were in a social-setting, outside of church. I have heard this from many, many others who have experienced the same thing early in their relationships with RW. Knowing that the FSU/Russia has always been, primarily, a "matriarchal" society, I kind of expected this, but not to the level of complete humiliation and not HERE, in the USA.

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn

Offline shakespear

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet - part V
« Reply #4 on: October 12, 2008, 09:40:03 PM »
Whenever we were visiting other RW/AM couples, (something I dreaded) she would basically treat me like her slave. Automatically, the men and women would segregate into their own groups...and I would be left to converse with guys, usually much older, who I had very little or nothing in-common with, other than having a wife from the same city in Ukraine. Time passed about as quickly as it does when you're in the dentist's chair.

The "test" came in the form of being at her "beck and call" during these little visits. She'd call me in from another room to bring her coffee, wine, tell me to go buy her cigarettes, etc. I never goy used-to this. I felt more like her "servant" than her husband.

Anyway, we had just departed for the INS office in Pittsburgh and once we got there, things couldn't have gone more smoothly. All my anal-retentive efforts paid-off and I had made no significant errors in the preparation of the INS forms. I was amazed. I had talked with quite a few others who had to make two, sometimes three, trips to the INS office before they had got them right. I felt pretty good about that and we were out of there within a couple of hours. She and her son were both "legal" now. The fact that I was nearly four-months late filing their AOS scarcely raised an eyebrow.

Mission accomplished! I had successfully filed their AOS, our follow-up interview had been scheduled, and she now had her Employment Authorization ID card, making it "legal" for her to work.

We stopped at the grocery store on the way out of Pittsburgh and picked-up a few things from the deli for a picnic-lunch. I thought we deserved to "celebrate" a little since everything had gone so well at the INS office. I guarantee that you will, too, if you get the AOS filed correctly on the first attempt! It was a tremendous relief.

We decided to make the short trip down to Morgantown to visit my niece, who's a Junior at West Virginia University. She joined us for lunch and we only stayed for a little while after that. On the way back home, Natasha told me that she wanted to drive a little. Traffic was pretty light on I-79 that day and, although her Ukrainian driver's license had expired 30 days before, I said, "sure" since she had been driving from, practically, the third day she arrived in the USA.

Natasha was a "fair" driver and I trusted her behind the wheel, despite the fact that a few months before she crashed "her" car into the back of a truck while stopped at an intersection. Otherwise, she tended to be, uh, not exactly "observant" of posted speed limits. That was about all, though. She wasn't "reckless" by any stretch of the imagination.

I pulled-over at the next Rest Area on the interstate, heeded the "call of nature" and exchanged places behind the wheel with her. We were in a fairly isolated stretch of the road and I knew I wouldn't have to be concerned about any cops, lurking in a speed-trap, as long as she kept it below "80" everything would be cool.

We never made it out of the Rest Area. For some reason, and still to this day unknown to me, starting the car, releasing the parking-brake, putting it in "reverse" and backing-out of the parking-space, apparently, demanded more hand-to-eye coordination than she was capable-of at that, particular, moment in time? I have no idea "why" what happened, happened next.

I'm sitting there in the passenger-seat, quietly observing her unexplainable confusion. She started the car, put it in "reverse" (without releasing the e-brake, even though the "BRAKE" light was illuminated) and tried to back-out. When the car wouldn't move, the only comment I made was, "your brake is still on, babe." She then put the car in "drive" and tried to START it again, while it was already running. Grinding the Starter mercilessly, I calmly said, "the engine is already running" so next, she released the parking-brake (with the car already in "drive") and floored the accelerator. We hit the concrete pole at full-speed, but thank God, from only five feet away. Still, it hit hard enough (as the body shop estimates later confirmed) to inflict nearly $1800 in damage to the bumper and hood. It looked pretty bad, but fortunately the radiator and all was still intact and the car could be driven.

Now, with my neck thoroughly snapped-forward and her kid in the back-seat literally knocked upside-down from the force of the impact, she sat there trying to recover from slamming her head into the steering-wheel. My immediate reaction was, "OK, time-out!" I killed the ignition, got out of the car and went around to the driver's side to help her and help calm the kid down. She was crying, he was screaming, and I tried to assure them both that it was, "no big deal" and "accidents happen," when in reality, I was mostly thankful that the airbags hadn't deployed. I told her to get out and trade places with me. I would finish making the drive back home. I figured she didn't want any part of driving after what just happened?

Wrong. She told me, "I am driving the car!!" in such a hateful tone-of-voice that my instinctive response was to say, "No, the hell you're not!" She then tried to close the door on my hand and I just held it open. I had completely lost patience with this little act of defiance, I said, "No, get-out, Natasha, I'm driving the damn car home!" I couldn't believe her! Obviously, hitting the concrete pole had knocked another screw loose in her brain?

She got out of the driver's seat and went back around to the passenger-side, loudly cursing me the whole time in Russian. I knew what she was saying. When it didn't stop for another five minutes after we got back on our way, I admit, I lost it.

I yelled-back at her, "Look, I've heard enough of this shit! Stop acting like a spoiled-brat!" I was tired of walking on egg shells around her, kissing-ass above and beyond the call of a husband's duty, and tolerating more abuse than I would from anyone else on earth. Seven months of frustration with her attitude boiled to the surface and I could do nothing to stop it, even though I could almost predict what her next reaction would be?

Her last words to me that day were in English, "Give me please divorce!"

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn

Offline shakespear

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet - part VI
« Reply #5 on: October 12, 2008, 09:40:45 PM »
"Give me please divorce..." The words were ringing inside my head, but now that she had shut-up and stopped cursing me in front of her son, I didn't want to get it started again by instigating any further conversation. The drive back home seemed to take an eternity.

The fact that she was asking me for a divorce, on the day of filing her AOS wasn't lost on me, either. I didn't think she was serious, just seriously pissed-off at me for not letting her drive the car back home after crashing it. I didn't really think anything more about it. We got home, unpacked the car, and I drove it over to a friend's, who owns a car body-shop.

Well, she must have gotten on the telephone immediately after I left and started calling her friends at the church, telling them her side of the incident at the Rest Area? The Priest called that evening and didn't even want to speak with me, he only wanted to talk to Natasha. I handed her the cordless phone and she took it into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned-on the exhaust fan so I couldn't eavesdrop. Not that I would have, anyway. I really didn't care about anything the two of them had to discuss. The Priest and the other members of the Orthodox Church had never shown much interest in me, other than when we attended Sunday services...and, of course, whenever the collection-plate was passed around. Otherwise, I observed the proper respect of their "beliefs" by conducting myself as an "outsider" should in their church. I kind of liked it. I thought the chanting, incense-burning and rituals were extremely beautiful, but not enough to renounce my own, very Protestant, beliefs.

The next few days were devoid of conversation between us. I began to think, "this is ridiculous" after three days of not speaking and not sleeping in the same bed. Determined to get to the "root-cause" of her anger, I tried to get her to talk to me, but to no avail. She wasn't about to "get-over" this latest episode of misplaced and childish anger towards me. Instead of remaining cool, I got pissed-off again and told her that she needed to "grow-up, get over it and be an adult" which she ignored completely.

The next morning, I decided to call the INS office in Pittsburgh and ask them what the procedure was for withdrawing the AOS. I had had enough and was ready to send them both packing back to Odessa- and there was no way that I was going to proceed any further with being her "Green Card" sponsor. I figured it would be a simple matter of filling-out the right forms, but guess again!

I reached the same INS Special Agent that had assisted us a few days before and asked her how I went about withdrawing the AOS. She told me that once I filed, I had effectively given HER control of her own INS file. What???? My jaw dropped again. I asked her to repeat what she had just said. She said it again, "The only request to withdraw her AOS had to come directly from Natasha, herself." I couldn't believe it! I said, "Do you mean to tell me that a woman who announces that she wants a divorce from a guy, on the SAME DAY he files the AOS in her behalf, (and paid the fees) has NO right to request that it be withdrawn???" The INS Agent said, "Yeah, you got it, that's right."

Some of you might be wondering how I could just suddenly decide to "send them packing" after things had been going fairly well up to this point? Well, there was nothing "sudden" about it, let me assure you. It's hard to explain, but let's say for argument's-sake that I had an overwhelming sense of: "it's time to cut my losses" and bow-out as gracefully as possible.

I had under-estimated my ability to deal with having a very contrary, immature, uncooperative, non-English-speaking woman for a "wife" and her equally difficult son- who's upbringing I had absolutely no say in. It was just too damn much for me, guys. I felt that I had been completely "buffaloed" by this woman. It was unlike anything I had experienced in any previous relationship.

Momentarily stunned by the information the INS Agent had just given me on the telephone, I then called the immigration attorney I used to prepare and file their K-1 stuff. I wanted to verify the information that had just been given to me, regarding the inability of the sponsoring-US citizen to request withdrawal of the AOS. Yep, he said that was, indeed, how it worked; only SHE could ask for it. She would have to request the withdrawal of her own AOS. Was there any "recourse" for mitigating circumstances like mine? None that he was aware-of. I was pretty much screwed. That's when he also made me aware of a little form called the I-360, "Abused Spouse's Exception" form, which he said I could expect her to file next.

Realizing what this meant, I kept hoping somebody would wake me up from this nightmare! I mean, I read-over the "terms" in the I-864, the "ten year" commitment to re-pay any "means-tested" public assistance/welfare she received, etc. I didn't think much about it at the time, though. I refused to believe that she would ever accuse me of being abusive. Like most of those who have been through this, I didn't want to consider the worst-case scenarios. I kept convincing myself that everything was going to be OK and lulled myself into complacency by believing that her "wife-act," prior to all of this crazy shit, was the real deal.

Most of you, I'm sure, would agree that I was long overdue for a moment of "clarity" by now. I finally had one. I finally realized that I was being played for a complete fool. I didn't know the exact "means" by which I was being played for a fool, but I was determined to find-out to what extent. Not knowing where to start and not really knowing exactly what her next move was going to be were the two greatest obstacles I had to overcome- and fast.

I wasn't destined to wait very long to find-out what her next move was going to be. Little did I know, we would be spending our last weekend together and exchanging the last "civilized" words between us.

I wasn't looking forward to the coming weekend. Two days-off and the prospects of being around them the whole time wasn't anything to get excited about, that's for sure. Reconciliation was beyond hope. The continuing telephone calls from her friends had practically reached a fever-pitch and I had a pretty good idea that something was brewing. I just didn't know what.

The tension in the air was so thick that weekend, you could have cut it with a knife. I tried to make things as "normal" as possible, but ended-up doing some much-neglected repair work around the house as a distraction. It was something in which she took absolutely no interest and around 1:00pm, she came outside and asked me if I minded watching her son while she went over to a friend's home. I told her I didn't mind at all. He and I got-along best when she wasn't around anyway. One of her friend's came over and picked her up and I thought I'd try to have some fun with her son by taking him fishing at a friend's nearby farm, who had a pond stocked with bass, bluegill, and crappie. We hung-out there and fished til about 5:00pm before heading back home.

By 8:00pm I hadn't heard anything from Natasha and was getting a little concerned about it. There were no messages on the machine. Usually, she wouldn't leave her son and I alone together for more than 4 hours at a time, without calling to check-in. As I mentioned before, I knew something was up, so I played a "hunch" I had. I knew that her boss, had the "hots" for her, despite being married himself and being a "pillar" of the community. I had caught him kissing her on the cheek "goodbye" one afternoon when I picked her up at the Flying-Carpet store. The *snip* was always staring at her ass and tits. He was, for lack of a better description, a "cockhound" whose "end all and be all of existence" was actualized by the copping of a "strange" piece-of-ass. I called his house and asked his wife if I could speak with him. "No," was the answer. He hadn't been home since "lunchtime" she told me. Hmmmmmm...

This was just too much of a "coincidence" for me. I never thought in a million-years that she'd have an affair while we were still married? To confirm my suspicions, I tried calling the girl that picked her up earlier that afternoon to find-out where she was. She told me she was getting a ride home from someone else and that she had tried to call and tell me that, but I wasn't home. Yeah, right. I asked for a telephone number where I could reach her and she said it was in the telephone book under such-and-such name. Naturally, when I went to look for it, it wasn't there. I was left to "stew" over where the heck she was. Again, not that it mattered to me all that much. By now, I realized it was "over" between us...and there wasn't anything I could do about it but wait to see how everything played out.

She got home around 9:30pm that evening and I didn't even bother to look out the front-door to see who it was that dropped her off. I didn't want her to think I gave a shit...and didn't even acknowledge her presence when she came in. I was getting her son ready for bed when she came in and "took over" without saying a word. Fine and dandy with me.

I didn't feel like going to church with them on Sunday. I didn't want to mix/mingle/socialize with any of those two-faced, back-stabbers...and I was afraid of what I might say to her "boss" if I ran into him. I dropped them off at 8:00am and picked them up at 1:30pm. A terse, "spasibo" was all I received for my chauffering-service, but you gotta realize by now I was pretty used to this. The concept of "gratitude," especially any verbal expression of it, was beyond her capability. It was a totally foreign concept.

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn

Offline shakespear

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet - part VII
« Reply #6 on: October 12, 2008, 09:41:33 PM »
We made it through the weekend without any major problems or exchanges of "harsh" words. It had been five days since we were in Pittsburgh to file her AOS. Five days.

The next day started like most. I got up, had my coffee, exchanged "dirty looks" with Natasha, and went to work. Nothing unusual. I was going to have to come home on my lunch hour to and give her a ride to work, since her Ukrainian-issued, "international" driver's license had expired. The entire time she had been here, there were several opportunities for her to obtain a Pennsylvania driver's license, but she repeatedly refused to make any effort because she didn't want to take a written-exam for it. She told me that none of her friends had to take a "test" and she wasn't going-to, either, by-God. I wasn't going to risk any further damage to our vehicles, her getting pulled-over without a valid license, etc. I'd just drop her off at 1:30pm, pick-up her son from school at 3:00pm, and then go get her at 5:30pm.

Some of you are, no doubt, wondering, "why, oh why didn't you just put her on a plane?" It's a legitimate question and one I pondered only a thousand times during the previous few days. The way I saw it, I'd only be able to get her on a plane back to Ukraine, one-of-two ways: 1) heavily sedated, to the point of unconciousness, or 2) kicking, screaming, and raising three-kinds of hell. I didn't consider either one a viable option. She sure wasn't going to board a plane willingly. I had simply waited too long. Once her AOS was filed, I was pretty much at the mercy of whatever she decided to do next.

I dropped Natasha off at work, as planned, at 1:30pm. Her last words to me were, "Thank you...goodbye" and said with such "finality" that it didn't escape me. I didn't care. I had to go back to work and get ready for my afternoon classes.

Sometime between 1:00pm and 3:00pm she must've gotten a ride back home, packed up their stuff, picked the kid up at school, and moved-in to the local domestic violence shelter? I had to admire the "military-like" efficiency in which she executed her plan. When I went to school to pick-up her son from kindergraten, his teacher told me, "Oh, your wife picked him up about an hour ago...I dismissed him early this afternoon." OK. Not knowing exactly what the hell was going on, but fearing the worst, I returned home to find not a single, solitary trace of them was to be found. I recall being stunned at first. Damn. I went looking around the house to see if she had taken anything besides what was her property. Nope. The only thing she left behind were a stretched-out pair of "lace" panties in her underwear drawer...and a raincoat in the closet that might've fit her when she weighed 110 pounds, but was three-sizes too small at her current weight of 150+.

I kept the stretched-out panties, purely for their "symbolic" value, as I felt they represented the futility of our relationship. I still have them. However, at the time, I didn't know whether to celebrate an overwhelming feeling of "relief" that came with their sudden, "unexpected" departure...or feel "dread" about what was surely to come next.

I couldn't help feeling somewhat relieved by the fact that she had spared me a "scene" and further embarrassment in front of our neighbors. If you had known her as well as I, you also would have been "touched" by such a "thoughtful" gesture. I still consider it one of the nicest things she ever did for me. :-)

The first person I called to determine their actual whereabouts was the Priest. It was a no-brainer. I knew that he HAD to be involved with this somehow? If possible, I still needed find-out what her exact intentions were, though The conversation went something like this:

"Father, do you know anything about Natasha and her son moving-out on me?" "Yes, my son..." "Well?" "Well, if you want me to tell you exactly where they're staying, I'm not going to tell you that..." "No, Father, I don't need to know her EXACT whereabouts, I don't want to know her EXACT whereabouts, I have nothing further to say to her...I just need to know where to have the divorce papers sent, that's all..." "Oh, well, you can send them to me and I'll make sure she gets them..." "Great. By the way, EXACTLY what is the extent of your and the church's involvement in all of this?" -CLICK-

He hung up on me. A man and an organization that I had morally and financially supported, trusted, invited into my home, and who I least expected to become a "malevolent" entity in my life, had clearly meddled into my personal business...and chosen sides. I couldn't believe it. One of my neighbors came over a day later and even told me that it was a "church van" that had brought her back to the house to load-up their stuff.

I wisened-up pretty quick. Instead of picking a divorce lawyer out of the yellow-pages, I started calling some friends, and friends of friends, who were either lawyers themselves or worked in the legal profession. I even called the president of my bank, a long-time friend of the family. They all kept mentioning the same names over-and-over, so I settled on one in particular that was mentioned more frequently than others. He was the one who filed my divorce "complaint" and represented me at the preliminary hearing.

He was good and his fee was reasonable. He went-through-the-motions of taking notes and listening to my side of this whole fiasco. I sensed no lack of sincerity on his part. We went to the preliminary divorce hearing together, confident that I would come-out of this with a minimal amount of emotional and financial damage. Too bad, we would both prove wrong.

I received my "answer" back from the divorce complaint my lawyer filed for me within a week. It was filed for "irreconcilable differences" and, surprisingly, she signed it. As a result, my lawyer and I went to the preliminary hearing thinking that it was going to be a very simple matter to settle. In and out, divorce done, no biggy.

Three days before the preliminary hearing, Natasha exercised her right to change the "answer" on my divorce complaint, though. Apparently the Orthodox church, her "boss", or quite possibly both, had provided her with legal representation, in the form of a fork-tongued, "femi-nazi" lawyer, with a HUGE chip on her shoulder. My lawyer advised me to "buckle-up and hang-on for dear life" because we were going to be in for a fight. Well, bullshit. I told him, "Look man, if you're intimidated by her lawyer, or your heart just isn't in it to represent me, give me a chance to find someone else..." He got a little pissed at this, but I wasn't going to back-down from him. I made it very clear that since she decided to pursue charges of "Mental Cruelty and Abuse" rather than "Irreconcilable Differences" which she initially agreed-upon, I wasn't going to accept any bullshit alimony-and-support type of settlements between him and her lawyer. We were only married for six months. She walked-out in me of her own free-will. Things seemed pretty cut and dry to me...and probably would have been if I had been going in front of any kind of Court other than a "Family" Court.

The preliminary hearing was completed in about twenty minutes. In that short period of time, I was ordered to pay her $1000, ordered to move-out, and assist her with moving-back in to my home from the domestic violence shelter. I managed to maintain composure until I got outside. The first thing I did, after reeling-off a string of obscenities that would have made "Popeye" blush, I looked at my lawyer and said, "You're fired, asshole!"

Despite his assurances that "everything would be OK" I felt like I had been screwed HARD. What could I do? I wasn't about to commit "Contempt of Court" by failing to comply with the orders of the Family Law Master so, I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances: I packed-up my stuff...and moved-in with a friend for the next 30 days, until the date of the "final" divorce hearing. In the mean time, I went "lawyer-shopping" again.

This time, I went looking for a "junkyard dog"- somebody that could clearly see through Natasha's and her lawyer's crap and would give me the benefit of his best efforts. The guy I eventually found would end-up costing me twice-as-much as the first one, but I credit him as the reason why I'm writing this in my living-room right now...and not from a cardboard-box, down by the river... Lesson: like most things, you get what you pay-for, especially when it comes to divorce lawyers!

I had visions of Germany during the 1930's. I felt like a "refugee" in my own country, being forced to pack-up my personal-belongings and vacate my own residence by order of the Court. My family and friends were appalled. Like me, they asked the same questions that I did: "How could this happen in America?" and "What's wrong with THIS picture?" Tell me about it.

I resisted the temptation to lash-out with some futile, meaningless gesture of frustration and did only what a rationally thinking person could do: become totally committed to self and financial-preservation. This little "gamble" had already cost me upwards of $14,000. I wasn't about to also let it cost me everything that I had worked so hard for, namely my home, life-savings, property, and reputation in the community. I decided to enlist the help of a friend, whom I had met during my original trip to Odessa in 1998.

"Tim" was an expatriated-Swede, living in Copenhagen, Denmark. As a paint, drywall and plaster-contractor, he had spent the previous nine years, living and working half the time in cities like Minsk, Kiev, Saint Petersburg, and Odessa. If you ask me, he had it made! Where most contractors spend a portion of each year in forced, seasonal "down time" this guy worked ten out of every twelve months- and only took time-off to rest. He knew the FSU like the back of his hand. We met one day while Natasha and I were having lunch at "The Coffee Bean" caf� (best damn coffee in Odessa, BTW, right off ul.Preobzhanskaya) when I overheard English being spoken. Knowing that it was a rarity in a place like Odessa, I leaned-over and asked where he and his girlfriend were from. Imagine my surprise when he said he was from Denmark! That would have been the last place I suspected. His girlfriend was also from Odessa, so we spent a few days hanging-out together. I couldn't have asked for a better, English-speaking guide and Natasha seemed to enjoy Tanya's company.

Realizing that Tim had connections throughout the FSU, I figured it wouldn't be a problem for him to hook me up with someone capable of doing a background-check on Natasha. Looking back, I just wish I had been so "anal" before I brought her over here. I gave him a call and told him my story. While not totally surprised to hear it, he was totally sympathetic and promised to help me out. We spent the next couple of hours talking on the phone and he assured me that he knew someone who could help. He said he'd call back with all the information I requested within a week and that the total cost would run about $250. I could Western Union it to him in Copenhagen whenever I had it; no big deal.

Tim called me back in only four days, practically laughing when I picked-up. I didn't think my situation was all that damn funny, to be honest, and I distinctly recall saying something to him like, "What the f**k, man?" His response was, "What the f**k indeed, my friend! Where did you FIND this woman???"

"What do you mean, WHERE did I find THIS woman?" I could feel my throat tightening in anticipation of what he was about to tell me. You know, that "tingly" feeling you get in your scalp right before somebody gives you bad news? Yeah, I knew it wasn't going to be any good from the tone of his voice and the fact that he could barely contain his laughter. "I contacted her through one of those internet marriage agency-places," I said. His response: "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, but this girl has quite a history behind her."

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn

Offline shakespear

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet -VIII
« Reply #7 on: October 12, 2008, 09:42:06 PM »
Considering my overall experience thus far, it didn't come as a huge surprise. I knew that things were going to take a turn for the "nasty" in our forthcoming Final divorce hearing. It had been made extremely clear to me by her attitude at the Preliminary hearing. Therefore, knowing what I was up-against, I needed any "verifiable" proof of either "fraud" or a "character-flaw" I could find, any way I could find it, in order to protect myself from permanently losing my home or being "fleeced" any further than I already had been...or was about to be! That's why I felt it necessary to have a background check done and my new lawyer was grateful for it. Apart from the painfully obvious things about Natasha's character and the way she had treated me when were living together, he was able to build my entire case around the things I was able to find out about her, albeit, far "after the fact."

Besides verifying that she was, basically, a spoiled-brat "daddy's girl" who never worked for anything a day in her life, who "rebelled" against her parents by becoming a part-time prostitute at the age of 17, I found one thing particularly more disturbing and quite easy to verify with a little effort: She left Odessa without permission from her son's natural father. You might think, "big deal," but here's the catch: she never informed me that she shared court-ordered JOINT CUSTODY with his father! Bingo. This is the type of thing I had been looking for when I asked for Tim's help.

Tim described to me in detail, the shit-storm this guy raised when he realized the bitch had left Odessa with HIS kid, how he had called and threatened her family with a visit from the mafia, and how he had called the local authorities to issue a warrant for her arrest the minute she showed her face in Odessa again. I was completely ignorant of it all.

When I was in the e-mailing/calling phase of our "relationship" I had asked about her son's father and the nature of his involvement with his upbringing. She described to me how their relationship had lasted four years, prior to "meeting" me. When she became pregnant with his child, he "left" her and she hadn't seen him since. Why would I have any reason to NOT trust her on this? Like most everyone else I bet, I just accepted her explanation and never gave a second-thought to questioning it.

I finished talking with Tim and hung-up, feeling like I had just been hit by a fully-loaded coal truck. The first impulse was to renew an old acquaintance with my friend, "Jim Beam." I needed a drink after hearing all of this, but the "wheels" were turning in my head nonetheless, while I tried to calm down. If I could identify one moment, in all of this, as "defining" in terms of feeling like a complete IDIOT, this was probably it. At the same time, I'll admit, I couldn't help but admire Natasha's skill in executing what appeared to be a nearly flawless plan of fraud and deception. Wow. Pretty devious.

She couldn't have done it without yours truly, though, and I have always confessed to my own, personal shortcomings in this matter. It's just too easy and too "transparent" to cast all the blame in one direction. It's really difficult to NOT get caught-up in that because your first impulse is to always lash-out. Rightfully-so in many cases, but definitely NOT in mine, though. I was as much to blame for being "negligent" as she was for being a "scammer" that could recognize and take advantage of a situation. That's it. That makes it about fifty-fifty in my book. It's the main reason why no one will ever hear me condemn Russian women as-a-whole or anyone who decides to have a relationship with them. They have my utmost respect. This thing is about INDIVIDUALS and not sweeping generalizations, or other types of bigotry. The point is, it's easy to lose one's perspective and give-in to the "dark side."

With a few days remaining before the Final divorce hearing, I dropped all the stuff I had learned about Natasha in my attorney's lap. Seeing the "deer-in-the-headlights" look in his eyes, we agreed that the next logical (and humanitarian) thing to do was to try and contact the father as to the whereabouts of his son. The next thing was to determine if Ukraine was a signatory-member of "The Hague Convention," enacted to empower the parents of children kidnapped and taken across international borders. If this was the case, we could definitely help this guy. Meanwhile, with a Cheshire Cat-type of grin, my attorney said that I could go. He was more than ready for the hearing now.

Unfortunately, Ukraine was NOT a signatory-member of "The Hague Convention" so all I could do is write a letter and have it delivered to him through a reputable translation service in Odessa. That's what I did. I paid $150 to have a five-page letter translated and delivered to the father of her son, summarizing my experience and proclaiming my ignorance. Of course, I didn't fail to include the address and telephone number of where he could reach his son. Whether or not he ever did this, I'll really don't know and probably never will. I received no expression of thanks from him, other than at the time of delivery through the translation service. No problem. I just felt better, knowing that this guy finally possessed the means to contact his son, nearly two years after his disappearance. The rest I left up to him personally.

I went in to the Final divorce hearing feeling pretty good about my chances of escaping from this fairly unscathed financially. Emotionally wasn't a factor. If I had to spend the rest of my life in therapy, working-this-shit-out, I considered it a small price to pay for retaining my sanity and a roof over my head. The day of the Final divorce hearing I felt nervous, but confident, as you might imagine. Armed with the information I had obtained, my lawyer was completely honest with me, though. He explained that the divorce-statutes in PA were originally written into-law around the turn-of-the-century. Since then, most of the revisions had a distinctly "feminist-slant" and chances were, I could still end-up getting screwed, even with a preponderance of circumstantial evidence against her. It didn't surprise me. Hell, few things surprised me anymore. The thing he told me that I could truly relate-to was this: "It's all about damage-control in this situation." In my opinion and based on my experience, truer words have never been spoken. I mentally-prepared myself to get "reamed" by the Family Court.

At the hearing itself, Natasha, her interpreter, and lawyer strutted in the room like conquering Amazons, ready to "de-ball" a more-than-deserving scum-bag, piece-of-crap MAN. Natasha looked at me like she had sharpened her castration-knife to a fine point that morning. I played it cool, but words can't describe my urge to scream, "Hunya suka plet!" at this woman. The smug bitch. She really thought she "had" me.

As the "divorce complaint" had been altered literally at the last-minute from "Irreconcilable Differences" to "Mental Cruelty/Abuse," her lawyer now had the burden of proving it to the Court. She started by painting a mental-portrait of me to the Court as a consummate "loser" who had to use the internet to find to order an e-mail bride, how all I wanted was a sex-slave, how I wasn't capable of properly supporting a wife and step-son on my "meager" teacher's-salary, etc. All just a bunch of slanderous and demeaning bullshit. I wasn't bothered in the least by her attack on my character. It appeared to me that they were trying harder to provoke an angry-response from me than build a solid case? Whatever the reasons for this attack, I knew to keep my damn mouth shut.

My attorney countered with copies of every e-mail that we ever exchanged from the very beginning, leading-up to my visit to Odessa in October, 1998. In them, he specifically highlighted all the sections where I had told her that I was a "public school-teacher and not a rich man by any definition of the term." I never attempted to conceal this from her, as her attorney was attempting to imply.

The "banter" went back and forth like this for about fifteen minutes or so (it seemed like an eternity) until the Family Law Master asked if there were any "witnesses" to testify in Natasha's behalf. My attorney and I looked at each other and gave each other a kind-of, "clueless" expression. As far as I knew, there wasn't anybody that could come in and provide "honest" testimony in regards to the nature of our relationship? I'll give you three-guesses as to who walked-through the door next...

The last person, I'm talkin the LAST person, I would have expected to see at the hearing was the PRIEST. Kudos to those of you blessed with the intuitive foresight to know it was going to be him. :-) YEAH! He swaggered in like he was going to come over to where I was sitting and administer "last rites" to me. Pompous ass.

I looked at my attorney and whispered, "What the f**k is he doing here?" He looked back at me with a "who knows?" look that required no spoken words for me to fully understand. The Priest was going to be Natasha's "trump" card.

The Family Law Master asked my attorney if there were any objections to the Priest testifying. Sensing that I was extremely uncomfortable, he requested that I address that question myself. I didn't hesitate. "Ma'am, anything that I said to Father Josef was said to him in confidence as my spiritual-advisor and I TOTALLY object to anything he testifies about in regard to being our marriage-counselor..."

My attorney also objected on this issue, correctly pointing-out that this would be considered "privileged testimony" and therefore not allowed to be considered under Pennsylvania statute. He also quite eloquently pointed-out the obviously questionable ethics of putting a Priest on the witness stand to testify in a divorce hearing! Anything that he would testify about could only be considered as "hearsay" and nothing he actually witnessed himself. Good point, huh? It didn't seem to matter.

The Family Law Master brought to our attention that in a Family Court in the state of Pennsylvania, it was a "discretionary matter" and that she could either consider or not consider the Priest's testimony. It was her call and only her call. She let him talk.

This is the only time I ever "lost it" and almost got thown-out of the hearing. My head felt like it was swimming, and I was having visions of Travis Bickle in "Taxi Driver." I got pissed as hell and cut-loose with, "Whatever happened to the integrity of a Priest's confidentiality? Or doesn't that mean a f**kin-thing to you, you weasel-muthaf**ker!!"

The Family Law Master didn't bat an eye. This old-gal must've seen it all in her day and my little outburst had to have seemed "tame" by comparison? She looked at me and said, "Mr. Neff, any further commentary from you will be considered an act of Contempt. Let your attorney do HIS job!" Hard to argue with that. I thought she'd get pissed at me for calling the Priest a "weasel-muthaf**ker" but, no, she didn't mention it. Hmmmmm...for a moment I entertained the notion that she might have been thinking the same thing I was.

The Priest looked over at The Family Law Master and said, "Mr. Neff is NOT an Orthodox Christian, therefore his "confidentiality" is not subject to protection by the Church. I came here of my own free-will and with the blessing and permission of the arch-diocese in Philadelphia..."

I wanted to scream again, but I didn't. You can imagine what I was thinking so I'll spare you the gratuitous use of profanity for a moment, anyway. I could just see this bitch taking-up permanent residence in the home I had been making payments-on for 16 years, paying alimony/child support for the rest of my life, etc. There was no limit to my paranoia at this point.

"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn

Offline shakespear

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet - page IX
« Reply #8 on: October 12, 2008, 09:42:30 PM »
The Priest went on to tell the Court that he had performed pur wedding ceremony, gotten to know us, visited our home many times, etc. He also told the Court how Natasha had expressed "remorse" to him about being brought here as a "mail-order bride" and that it was embarrassing for her, I wasn't the person "he made himself out to be," etc. He continued with his description of our inability to communicate, MY violent temper-tantrums, lack of affection, lack of understanding. To me, it sounded more like he was describing Natasha than your's truly? All I know is that I was overwhelmed by the sense of my legal right's being violated, only because I wasn't a member of the Orthodox Church. Sitting there, witnessing my own "legal rights" being violated by this supposed, "Man of God" was about all I could take. I looked at my attorney and shook my head in disbelief. This WAS ridiculous. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, as he prattled-on about our marriage, like he had intimate knowledge all the things that he was accusing me of.

I knew one more outburst would get me thrown-out of the hearing and I heeded the Family Law Master's warning. I said nothing. My attorney whispered to me, "Just be cool, our turn is coming" and I knew he was right. We hadn't been given the opportunity to present anything in my behalf yet.

The Priest finished his "illegal" testimony and my attorney didn't bother to ask him any questions. He merely commented that he thought it was highly inappropriate, unethical, and hoped the Court would rightfully consider anything he said as "complete hearsay," which is all that it really was. I prayed to God that the Family Law Master also felt this way.

My attorney didn't waste any time. He flatly accused Natasha of marriage fraud and used examples of her willful and irrational behavior throughout our marriage to back-up his accusations. He left nothing un-disclosed, and took great care to explain the 'lamp-smashing incident" as a prime example of her mental instability, refusing to sleep in the same bed with me because of her delusion of being transmitted a "fungus" during sexual-contact, along with wrecking my car and screaming for a divorce on the way back from filing her AOS in Pittsburgh, using the Orthodox church to "undermine" our relationship, etc. I wanted to jump-up and give the guy a "high-five" when he finished. He did a great job of expressing "moral indignation" about a situation where, "it was clearly the intent of this woman to use Mr. Neff, solely as a means to escape from her miserable existence in Ukraine and kidnap her son from his natural-father."

When he mentioned this, the woman serving as Natasha's interpreter turned ghost-white and slowly translated what he just said. I really thought Natasha was going to shit herself. Obviously, she never had told her attorney anything about the situation with her son and his father. The Family Law Master listened attentively while he introduced the five-page letter I had translated and delivered to her son's father in Odessa a few weeks before. Once he finished reading it, the Family Law Master said that she had heard enough and asked my attorney if there was anything else. No, there wasn't. She declared a fifteen-minute recess before she'd render her decision. My attorney and I went outside to have a much-needed cigarette. He told me not to worry, but at the same time, "don't expect to walk-away from this without having to give her something." No problem. As long as it wasn't my house, they wouldn't have to lock-me-up for flipping-out in Court. Before we went back to the courtroom, he said, "You're NOT going to lose your home."

He was right. Thank God! The Family Law Master entered the courtroom and announced that she had rendered her decision: I was "guilty" of Mental Cruelty, as charged. BUT, due to the "unusual" nature of our relationship, the mitigating circumstances, and the fact that we had only been married for six months, she would only grant Natasha six months of $500 per-month alimony (for each month of the marriage) and require me to pay her attorney's fees. That's all. She also gave her 30 days to vacate my premises and make new living-arrangements.

Even though I felt like I owed her NOTHING, even though I knew I had essentially "won" in lieu of the actual decision going in my favor, I didn't really feel that great about how the whole thing played-out. My attorney looked at me and said, "Are you an idiot?" Of course, I was tremendously relieved (beyond description) about keeping my home, personal property, and not having to cash-in my 401k, but beyond that, there was neither sense of victory nor any real satisfaction. The way I saw it, I had been left with little more than a huge "hole" in my wallet and an overwhelming desire to spend a few days banging my head against a brick-wall for being such a complete MORON in the purest sense of the word.

With the payment arrangements made and the order for her to vacate my home being prepared, it would only be another four weeks until I could move back. God only knows what kind of shape I'd find it in, but short of her setting it on fire, I knew I would still have a place to hang my hat. That was all that mattered at this point. Satisfied with what my attorney had been able to accomplish, we shook-hands, and he gave me his business card for future reference. I didn't know it at the time, but I was going to need it.

Natasha and her son left my home without fanfare or any further complications, but not before she ran-up over $400-worth of long-distance calls to Ukraine, put several holes in the walls, and allowed her son to tear the storm door completely off the hinges. To add insult to injury, I also found a pile of ashes in the backyard; the remains of my three albums containing photos of my trip to Odessa. The only traces that remained were the metal rings that once held the pages in place. The ironic symbolism didn't escape me, but I figured it was just par for the course. I expected nothing less from her.

Nevertheless, I was back home now and my animals were as glad to see me as I was to see them. Natasha never did like my dog and cat. You might think I'm joking, but she always seemed to be jealous of the affection they showed me. She bonded somewhat with the cat, but dogs have a sixth-sense about people. "Ringo" (My Springer Spaniel) never did "take" to her...and had no patience for the kind of torment provided by her son. He eventually ended-up doing the same thing I did: avoid them altogether except at feeding time! He just figured it out quicker than I did!

Natasha moved into her little "love nest" den-of-adultery, funded in part by both her "boss" and your friendly, neighborhood Orthodox Church. We had no further contact with each other and meanwhile curbed the urge to go stuff my telephone bill down her throat, although I did manage to have my attorney knock $250-off the balance of the alimony I owed her, as he threatened to sue Natasha in small-claims court over it. Her attorney was more than happy to comply with the request and put-up no resistance.

The only thing left to do now was contact the INS, inform them of the situation, and try to get myself out of the REST of this mess. I finally accepted the fact that I had come out of the divorce fairly intact, now I just had the I-864 Affidavit Of Support hanging over my head.

Thinking that the worst was already behind me and that it would "all be downhill from here" I called the INS Agent in Pittsburgh to get some idea of what they expected in the letter I was ready to begin composing about my experience. The only thing she told me was to put everything into my own words and make sure that I had it "Notarized" for authenticity of the signature. That's all. She said that she would personally see to it that it was placed in her INS file.

"You meant that's ALL that can be done?" "I'm afraid so," she politely responded, "you should know that we get calls from men EVERY day, just like you, who have been the victims of these women. Unless they have criminal-charges pending against them, they rarely get deported, even for the most flagrant cases of marriage fraud." I wasn't surprised. Considering the relative ease with which Natasha had just manipulated me AND the system, I didn't feel any need to challenge her on this fact and I believed every word she said about getting called either every day or several times a week.

Instead of just shrugging my shoulders and resigning myself to acceptance of this was the way things had to be, I decided I would bring this to the attention of people in a better position to do something about this injustice. I started writing congressmen, senators, INS officials at the Vermont Service Center (where her K-1 was processed) and in Washington, DC. I even sent letters to the Ukrainian Embassy in DC, and the U.S. Embassies in Warsaw and Kiev. All of them with an itemized account of my experience, but not nearly with the same amount of detail as this that you're reading now. The way it appeared to me, the Embassy in Warsaw was primarily responsible for running a "K-1 Visa-Mill" which empowered undeserving women, like Natasha, with the ability to use and abuse the system. I let them know it. As a veteran, I truly resented it. My feelings have changed little in this regard since then. I considered it a travesty of justice, in which the system provides NO protection for its citizens from the kind of bullshit that I had just gone through. Whether or not my efforts yielded any much-needed investigations or changes, I'll never know? All I received in response was the typical form-letter, thanking me for my concern as a citizen.

The next few months were relatively quiet. I had no further contact with either Natasha or the Orthodox Church, for which I was truly grateful. It wasn't until August '00, that I had an occasion to be concerned again. It started with a telephone call I received from my local "Blockbuster" regarding a past-due movie "I" had rented at the downtown store. "Say what? I don't rent from your store, I rent from the one on Rt. 32, next to Kroger..." The baffled employee said that she showed a movie that was a week past-due, signed for by, none-other-than "Natasha Neff."

I saw red. I mean, I got pissed-off, put on my "felony-shoes" popped-in a "Geto Boyz" CD and took a cruise to Blockbuster, downtown. I was seriously considering making a call to some ne'er-do-well acquaintances of mine that would kick-her-ass for $50 and a case of beer. I wanted to get a Xeroxed copy of her signing "Natasha Neff" on the rental agreement...and put a "block" on my account there. Ridiculous! I couldn't believe that the bitch had used my video rental account, then expected me to stick-me with paying the late-fee...and it was the principle of the matter: She had been ordered to restore her name BACK to her pre-married name as part of the divorce settlement. I realized there wouldn't be much I could do if she was only using it as an "alias," but knowing her predisposition towards "fraud" and "deception" it wouldn't have surprised me if she had never complied with the divorce decree. The only things that Natasha had LESS respect for than me was our laws and "rules" of society.

She never did. I went on to the Trans-Union and Equifax web sites and discovered one, two, three, four, five, SIX inquiries into my credit bureau file! Son-of-a-bitch! It was time to call my attorney...again!

If you're beginning to think that this is a story without end, I'm right there with you. Just when I thought everything had calmed-down, I find that she had been using MY name as a reference for her apartment lease, telephone service and applications for department store credit cards, listing me as the secondary on a joint account. I took the copy of the signed "Blockbuster" receipt and two credit bureau reports down to my attorney's office and tossed them on his desk. I laid it out for him:

1) The shit has got to stop, or I'm going to end-up in jail.2) Handle it.3) Send me a bill.

I let him know that I was sick of dealing-with it. My divorce from the "mail-order bride" was already the talk-of-the-town (pop. 14,581) and being a public schoolteacher in this situation, well, you can just imagine. Humiliation was one thing, having it reflected back to me in the faces of my students every day, along with Natasha's continuing abuse of my name/identity was something else entirely. F**k this.

I started looking for other work. I hit the bricks and interviewed for every kind of teaching and/or "training" job that expressed an interest. Within a couple of months, I landed a better-paying gig as a "Technical Trainer" in the IT department of a bank. The best part was that it was nearly a three-hour drive away from where I'd been living. I put my house on the market and moved. I mean disappeared. Poof. Vanished. Fifteen years of teaching school in the same town and the same school-system, and I turned-in my resignation that Friday afternoon and, by evening, was moving to my new place. The only people that knew my exact whereabouts were my mom, attorney, and the Human Resources office of the A*******g County Board of Education- so they could forward my final paycheck. Peace Out!

Seven months later, I have no regrets about this course of action. I did what I thought I had to do to get away from that bitch, otherwise I would have either been constantly reminded-of this whole fiasco, or dealing-with it every few months through my lawyer. It was difficult, but worth it. I have a great job now, new (AW) girlfriend, peaceful life, and no major problems. That's all any of us could either ask or hope-for, isn't it?

Thanks for your attention. Good night everybody.

Shane

All,

I'd like to thank all of you again for your commentary via e-mail. It means a lot and I do appreciate it.

It would be very easy to come out of this experience being bitter and blaming everything on RW. Sorry, I'm not going to do that. As I mentioned previously, "it takes two" and I'll never deny my share of the responsibility for what happened.

That said, what I hoped to accomplish, besides exorcising a lot of personal-demons, was to point-out what will appear to be the obvious to many of you, but here it is, for what it's worth:

1) Communication is the heart of the matter. If the two of you are unable (or unwilling) to communicate, you exponentially decrease your chances of success.

2) Both of you need to be "aware" of what you're getting yourselves into. In other words, there's got to be some type of mutual understanding that nothing about this relationship is going to be "easy" or happen "automatically" in conventional terms. There's got to be "commitment" since both of you are going to be like fishes-out-of-water, at first. You, because you now have the responsibility of helping this lady acclimate to our culture and different-ways. She, because she'll be in a totally strange and unfamiliar environment, more than likely, for the first time.

3) Most of these ladies, from what I know through personal experience and the stories of others, are "in love" with you by the third or fourth e-mail. Don't fall into that trap. Relationships don't happen "overnight" and while the desire might be there on both your parts, it still should be given the test of time and patience. In other words, you can't rush-into an RW relationship with any more chances of success than you can with ANY type of relationship. If you detect the least bit of impatience on her part, consider it a "red flag" and move on. Six months of e-mail, phone calls, and a two-week vacation together do NOT a marriage make.

4) Read the INS documents you're signing carefully and make sure you fully understand them. Like most guys, I was completely unaware of what I was commiting myself to with the INS: a ten-year responsibility to re-pay any "means-tested" (welfare) government support that she might qualify to receive, even if I wasn't supporting her, due to a breakup and/or divorce. Neither pre-nuptial agreements nor divorce settlements have any bearing on this contract with the federal government. The only way-out of this is if she would go to work and become fully "vested" in Social Security after (I think?) one-year of continuous, full-time employment.

5) Don't hesitate for one minute to make the trip to the FSU. It's great and I practically guarantee you'll have a great time over there if you do go. If nothing else, it'll give you a new appreciation and perspective on just how good you have it, by comparison. I know it did for me.

Best of luck to each and every one of you in your pursuits. Don't hesitate to e-mail me privately with any questions you might have!

In the mean time, allow me to leave you with this thought:

"Heaven" is:

* An American salary
* A Russian wife
* An English House
* Chinese Food

"Hell" is:

* A Russian salary
* An American wife
* A Chinese house
* English food

Best Regards,

Shane Neff
"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun" - Katharine Hepburn

Offline Ade

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #9 on: October 13, 2008, 12:14:33 PM »
This guy should sell the movie rights.  ;D

Offline Eduard

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #10 on: October 15, 2008, 08:17:34 PM »
I can only imagine the stress you went through. Hopefully it's all over.

Offline Russianstarlet

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #11 on: November 26, 2008, 03:32:05 PM »
Both the man are the woman look strange to me.
The man complains a lot but it looks like no matter what  all people around him including his own family support everybody, but not him. He sees red flags everywhere, but instead of sending the woman back he marries her, then he visits the parties that he doesn't like and goes to the places where he doesn't want to go.

The  story reminds me of a Russian saying :
"Ежики кололись, плакали, но продолжали есть кактусы"that can be translated as:"hedgehogs suffered, cried, but went on eating cactuses"
 :THDN:

Offline bobjf

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #12 on: November 26, 2008, 11:14:58 PM »
some people will believe anything ay pancho
it takes two willing givers to make two happy receivers
result happy couple most of the time lol

Offline Telegram Sam

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #13 on: August 04, 2009, 01:10:40 AM »
Hello Shane,

    How are you doing Sir?  I am a new member to this board, I found it today just by sheer coincidence because I was searching for information on FSU Dating and Scams. I just finished reading your story “Train Wreck Story” and all I can say right now is “WOW” that is one heluva ordeal that you have been through. I am still in awe, and still trembling by it all.

    What amazes me the most was your ability to want to persevere with this woman (your former wife) and make things right. I am a very patient man also but I think that my patience would have waned after the first month or perhaps two at the very most!

    You are an excellent writer and have documented all of the events as they actually took place and it made me feel like I was being part of it. Perhaps like following a story line in a movie.

    Shane, I am no stranger to the dark world of the FSU dating arena :)  I have so much to say and I barely know where to begin. If I could write to you by PM or private email that would be so wonderful. I would be happy to give you my email address. Please let me know how we can share this information please. There are certain questions I would like to ask if I may because I am trying to do the same thing meeting a wonderful Russian or Ukrainian woman.

    After reading your gut-wrenching, compelling story I may not be so sure that I want to continue with this chosen path. I am not new with the FSU dating scene as I mentioned I have been trying it since 2003. I have had some results that were semi-successful but the few ladies that I met so far were not the women that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. So my search still goes on! I am not in any great hurry to marry… If it happens, so be it! If I stay a single bachelor for the rest of my life maybe this is what God has intended for me.

   So I want to say Be Well, Be Happy and Healthy and Budem Zdrowy!

    I Wish You My Very Best Wishes,
    God Bless!
    Telegram Sam

Offline Irinka

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #14 on: September 08, 2009, 09:14:23 PM »
Why its Train Wreck story?

Its about only bad marrage, not  Поезд?

Offline TwoBitBandit

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #15 on: September 09, 2009, 12:12:46 AM »
Why its Train Wreck story?

Its about only bad marrage, not  Поезд?

"Train wreck" is English slang for something that goes wrong and ends very badly, like a train wreck.  It doesn't literally have to be a train wreck.

Offline Irinka

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #16 on: September 09, 2009, 12:21:07 AM »
Oh! Thank you for explain me.

My English not good :(

Offline mirror

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #17 on: September 09, 2009, 12:24:39 AM »
My English not good :(

Yes,it is true.  :chuckle:

Offline Irinka

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #18 on: September 09, 2009, 12:30:15 AM »
My English not good :(

Yes,it is true.  :chuckle:

I not plan live in USA. But now I need learn English

Offline Manny

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #19 on: September 09, 2009, 01:03:05 AM »
My English not good :(

Yes,it is true.  :chuckle:

I not plan live in USA. But now I need learn English

You are studying there?
Read a trip report from North Korea >>here<< - Read a trip report from South Korea, China and Hong Kong >>here<<

Look what the American media makes some people believe:
Putin often threatens to strike US with nuclear weapons.

Offline Wild Orchid

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #20 on: September 09, 2009, 01:09:43 AM »


You are studying there?

it sounds like Russenglish to me, Manny  :chuckle:

Offline mirror

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Re: Train Wreck Story From The Internet
« Reply #21 on: September 09, 2009, 07:40:22 AM »

You are studying there?

it sounds like Russenglish to me, Manny  :chuckle:

[/quote]

Perfect!  :chuckle: