He said no on Thanksgiving Day. Many of us after eating ourselves into a food coma just wants one thing, sleep! Rebecca Lynn Phelps of New Fort Richie Florida wasn’t sleepy. In fact, she wants some adult interaction with her boyfriend. To motivate him, she grabbed his goodies. But her boo wasn’t in the mood and turned over and went back to sleep.
Trust me! “No, is not your final answer!
Rebecca doubles down and tries to motivate her boyfriend. Who pretending to be sleep. She taps on his leg and when he doesn’t respond, she attacks. Scratching her boyfriend on his left eye causing it to swell and turn black and blue. Her boyfriend told her to stop or he was going to call the police, which set her off more. Rebecca then scratched her boyfriends arm and he started bleeding
I never touched him, she told police
Deputies say a witness inside the home did not see what happened, but heard her boyfriend yelling at Rebecca “Stop hitting me” and then the witness heard a smack.
Ms Phelps was arrested for misdemeanor domestic battery charge and had to pay $100 bond to get out of Jail
But wait, there’s more!
In September 2017, Rebecca smacked a man for rejecting her advances. She hit him so hard that it left redness on his face.” She also allegedly scratched the man’s arm, causing it to bleed.
Prosecutors subsequently declined to pursue the case against Phelps. It is unclear whether the victim in the 2017 matter is the same man in the current case.
The woman said she could accept it better if he’d “screwed a few here and there” (Image: Getty)A wronged wife was forced to undergo a HIV test and was driven to self harm after discovering her husband of 30 YEARS had been having a five-year affair ‘ with one prostitute.
And after wringing the truth from her lawyer husband, the anonymous woman began charging her husband £40 every time they have sex – the same price he paid per session with the prostitute.
The woman is demanding codes of conduct are implicated at brothels masquerading under the guise of spas, to stop sex workers monopolising one punter.
She said had her husband “screwed a few here and there” she could accept it better.
“The fact that it was the same person, that really does bother me.
“That is the main betrayal.
“If he’d screwed a few here and there I could accept it better – it would still be devastating, but I could accept it better.”
The high-flying professional in her 50s, from the West Midlands, said her husband admitted his ‘affair’ with the prostitute began after he discovered poppers – a sex-enhancing drug.
The woman said her partner always slept with the same prostitute after discovering sex-enhancing drug poppers(Image: Getty Images)
And after finally discovering the truth, the humiliated wife had to undergo a HIV test.
To protect her children, the woman remains anonymous, but is referred to as ‘Sarah’.
“Thankfully, the test has been all clear,” sighs Sarah, speaking about the test.
“The nurse was looking at me and I said ‘This is not my fault’.
“She replied ‘I’m a nurse, I don’t judge’. I just repeated ‘This is not my fault’.”
From the outside, the pair’s marriage appeared solid, idyllic even.
Sarah was similarly content with her lot – until the shocking truth emerged last November.
The hard facts – and questions spawned by those facts – have tortured Sarah to the point of self-harm.
“It scares me that he could be so duplicitous,” she said.
“It’s awful to live with someone who has that much power over you.
“My mum said ‘I didn’t know he had it in him’. I’m no nearer to getting to the real truth.
“Why was it only her for five years? How many times did you meet?
“Did she undress you? Did you undress her?
“Was she in her slinky red or black underwear that you can buy for £2.99?”
Time and again, Sarah has mentally pieced together the scenarios. In her imagination, the meetings between her husband and the hooker darken with each passing day.
“I can imagine what she looks like,” Sarah says bitterly.
“Long, dark hair, brown eyes, she’s going to be very typical.
Sarah now charges her husband £40 every time they sleep together(Image: Getty)
“I have children, I am half-a-stone above my ideal weight, but I still look bloody good in a Liverpool shirt.”
“I know my worth,” she spits out defiantly.
“I know of all the women he could’ve chosen, I was the golden standard.
“A good woman is worth more than rubies, the Bible said, because she will keep herself just for him. I have invested so much in our marriage.”
Sarah first confronted her husband in 2013 after dialing a number on her husband’s phone and being put through to a Birmingham massage parlour.
“I confronted him, and he said he went there, but didn’t do anything,” says Sarah, shaking her head.
“Lies, lies, lies, but I believed him.”
Darker discoveries were to follow. In 2015, Sarah found a handful of poppers in an office drawer.
“I said ‘What are these?’” she says.
“He was literally crying. I said either you are gay or there is another woman.
The woman now charges her husband for sex – £40 a go, the same as he paid for the prostitute(Image: Getty)
“I saw those things disappear and return. He didn’t give any information.
“There was a number on his phone and it was the Romanian. I rang her and said ‘You are a prostitute, aren’t you?’ and got abuse.
“I said ‘Keep away from my husband!’ and deleted the number.”
Bruised and sickened, Sarah was prepared to forgive, if not forget.
But that number was again discovered on the phone late last year. This time, the cast-iron evidence drew a confession – and another call to the other woman.
“He said it was just the poppers, just the chemicals,” says Sarah.
“He just didn’t get it.
“I told her ‘He has to pay you. I do it for free, and I do it because I love him.”
Not anymore. In a show of strength, Sarah has told her husband that sex between the two of them now comes with a starting price of £40.
“I hate the girl,” she snaps angrily.
“I hate what she’s done, not just to me, but to anyone else. Is she aware, or does she care, that our world has fallen apart?
The wronged wife now wants brothels to have codes of conduct
Sarah says her husband has attempted to heal the wounds he’s caused, and knows he ricked everything for a cheap, if regular, thrill.
“His brain has blocked everything,” says Sarah. “He says he is not that person anymore. He says he’s fallen in love with me again.
“He spends more time with me. All I do is hurt him. It is unreal, totally unreal.
“I’ve told him I’m not prepared to take on his guilt – and I’m very good at dealing with other people’s rubbish. That’s what I do on a daily basis in my job.
“It is the lack of trust that’s left. I can’t trust him – and he is the one person I should be able to trust completely.
“If he goes out of the house, I feel anxious. He has done that to me and I’m supposed to be the most important person in his life, the person he should be able to trust implicity.
“Forgiveness is a sticky thing. Some people say you should forgive all of it and start again.
“The lesser part, I have forgiven, but the ramifications of the infidelity are so much greater.
“He denies he had a relationship – so what was it?”
Sarah has a simple message for those who believe their partners are unfaithful.
“You need to listen to that inner voice, it was certainly nagging me all the time,” she says.
She believes her story underlines the reason why more should be done to stem the steady stream of massage parlors offering extra services.
“I think the local authorities turn a blind eye,” she adds.
“How do we know who and what are in these places? “There needs to be a department dedicated to ensuring these places are run properly.”
I’ve spent a lot of time trying to make relationships out of booty calls. Because all great relationships are built on a foundation of phenomenal sex and the occasional inside joke, right? (RIGHT?!) I mean, if you’re making me orgasm multiple times a week, why wouldn’t I want to keep you around long term and try to build a solid, lasting relationship with openness, honesty, and commitment. I can totally tell you’d be good at that while your head is between my legs…
Or so I though. Turns out, as I’m coming upon the crest of 30, just because he’s hot and his junk gets hard, doesn’t actually make him “boyfriend material.” Go figure. This may be the biggest lesson I’ve learned in my 20s. So what then does make a man a potential Mr. Right, versus a potential Mr. Right Now? And which of these two men do you want to be?
According to recent University of Maryland divorce research, you’ve got about a 50/50 chance of growing old with your spouse. While that stat may not shock you, the reasons many couples decide to separate may.
“People assume that most marriages fail because of big bombs—cheating, financial mismanagement, addiction, dishonesty,” says Jessica Elizabeth Opert, a London-based relationship coach. “But the truth is, it’s the small missiles—the everyday action or lack of action—that severs the connection between two people, resulting in a loss of love.”
Here are seven common—yet totally overlooked marriage problems—that may be threatening your relationship, plus, expert advice to help you keep divorce out of your marriage.
“When you ask most people about how they knew their partner loved them, they will often say that it was the way that person looked at them,” explains Opert. Having conversations without looking up from the phone or TV can sever that intimate connection. It may even prevent the release of phenylethylamine, a chemical that triggers feelings of romantic love, Opert says.
Try this: Set aside times for tech-free bonding. Have a cell phone-free dinner without any television background noise or vow to keep cellphones out of the bedroom. (Here’s what happened when one Prevention writer stopped bringing her phone into the bedroom.
Avoiding conflict, especially early in a marriage, leaves you lacking the skills to deal with tough situations down the road. “The trick is to develop communication and negotiation skills to solve problems without building resentment,” says Valerie Golden, PhD, a Minneapolis-based psychologist. “Sweeping things under the rug because you’re too afraid to raise the issues is a common recipe for disaster.”
Try this: Fighting too little may threaten your relationship, but so do volatile blowups. Instead of pointing fingers, which can fuel anger and animosity, use “I statements” to explain how your husband’s actions make you feel when you’re upset. For example, don’t say something like, “You never listen to me when I ask you not to leave your dishes in the sink.” Instead, try something like, “I feel ignored and frustrated when you don’t listen to my requests to clean up after yourself.”
Do nearly all the conversations with your spouse involve practical matters, like whose turn it is to pick your daughter up at soccer practice or what you need at the grocery store? “When communication almost exclusively revolves around the kids or the house, that’s a bad sign,” warns Sarah Allen, PsyD, a Northbrook, Illinois-based psychologist. “I have counseled many women who describe their relationship with their spouse as being similar to that between roommates. The passion and the intimacy have gone.”
Try this: Make it a point to ask your husband about his day. It may sound cliché, but having this conversation every night can really improve your relationship, says Angela Hicks, PhD, a Utah-based psychologist. She’s found that couples who discuss recent positive events with each other have increased feelings of connection to their partners.
Social media is a growing factor in divorce, says Sonya Bruner, PsyD, a psychologist practicing in California. In some cases, it’s the time-sucking element—constantly giving into notifications from friends eats into the time you could be doing something with your spouse.
Social media also gives a distorted view of marriage. With so many posts showing “perfect” couples, people can set unrealistic expectations for their own relationships. And perhaps the most dangerous: “Facebook makes it easier to connect with past flings,” Bruner says.
Try this: If you feel like Facebook and Instagram are taking away from your time with your partner, tell him how you feel and see if he’d agree to delete the apps from his phone if you do the same. This way, you can each still log on when the mood strikes, but you’ll be far less likely to mindlessly scroll the second there’s a lull in the conversation. (Not sure you’ll be able to break free of your social media habit? These tips can help!)
Drifting apart after retirement is increasingly common; in fact, the divorce rate for couples over 50 has more than doubled in the last two decades. When some people retire, they want to do things and go places they’ve always dreamed of, while their spouse may prefer to maintain the status quo, says Gloria Dunn-Violin, author of Revivement: Having a Life After Making a Living. “The resulting battle of wills can lead to an unexpected divorce.”
Try this: Try to compromise. It’s normal for couples to have different ideas about retirement. If you’ve always dreamed of moving to Italy to retire and your husband would rather stay in the states, see if he’d be willing to compromise and live abroad for a few months of the year. (Maybe some of these 30 spectacular island homes from around the world can help get him on board with the idea!)
Giving up too much of yourself for your spouse is a silent relationship killer. “Couples who spend a lot of time together—to the detriment of their individual interests—can have as many or even more relationship issues as couples who hardly see each other,” Bruner points out. When emotional boundaries are so unclear that one spouse has a hard time functioning without the other, psychologists call this “enmeshment.” Spouses don’t often recognize the extreme attachment, but if your happiness or self-esteem is contingent upon your marriage, you may be in an enmeshed relationship. Another telltale sign is when one partner always refers to him or herself as “we” instead of “I.”
Try this: Being aware that you’ve each lost your individuality is the first step toward rediscovering it. Both you and your spouse should try to find something to do on you own that brings you happiness—join a club, volunteer, or take a weekly class, for example.
You hear a lot about couples staying together for the sake of the kids. But having children can be a major cause of marital strife—and one that people feel uncomfortable talking about. “One couple I worked with hadn’t had sex in a year because their toddler insisted on sleeping in their bed,” says Kimberly Hershenson, LMSW, a relationship therapist in New York City. “Another couple couldn’t even talk to each other during dinner because their child would jump on the sofa and scream for their attention.”
Try this: Lay down the law. Many parents want all the time they spend with their children to be positive, so they avoid upsetting them. But that’s not doing anyone any favors. If couples learn how to set boundaries for their kids, the marriage usually improves, Hershenson says.
Wouldn’t it have been great if there were 420 ways?
Yes, marijuana is known for its ~mind-altering~ effects, but weed doesn’t stop there. If you’re a person who’s ever toked up and then gotten down, you know weed can have a… noticeable effect on your sex life. Here are 14 ways weed can affect sex, because I couldn’t quite come up with 420.
1. Doing it high once makes you wanna do it high a lot more times. An in-depth, qualitative study from the Archives of Sexual Behavior on how alcohol and weed affect sex found that some couples say crave “more sex after the first sexual episode on marijuana.” Or in other words, they so enjoyed sex on weed that they want to keep having sex on weed.
2. It can get your 😎 vagina 😎 high. In this, our modern world, weed lube exists. If you’re reading this post, you have probably heard of it. But if not: Welcome. Produced by a company called Foria, the lube is totally legal (if you live in California or Colorado) and contains THC oil — the active ingredient in marijuana that gets you high. One Cosmo writer described the vagina-high feeling as “a mellow high that felt like a warm and very sexual hug.”
She wanted sex, her hubby didn’t. Vengeance was hers. She punched, and even kneed her man in the groin inside their Seminole Florida condo.
She punched her man in the eye and the kneed him in the goodies when he tried to keep her from driving away. (Perhaps she was going elsewhere to get her needs met.)
61 year old Kerry Lee Pineiro told the police she had “zero story” and told them to take her to jail!
She was charged with domestic battery (she kneed him in the groin twice-I guess if she wasn’t getting her groove on, she wanted to make sure no one was going their groove on!)
After spending a night in jail the judge released her yesterday on her on recognizance and she was ordered to wear a continuous alcohol monitor.
Cynthia Nixon, Sarah Jessica Parker, Kim Cattrall and Kristin Davis in “Sex and the City 2” (Credit: New Line CInema)
“If you think the San Francisco dating scene is bad, wait till you get to New York,” people warned me
By: Emily J. Smith/Salon.com
“Don’t give up, ” my friend urged me, my shoulder in her hand, a vodka martini in mine. “You’ll find something that feels right eventually.”
I realized that it had somehow, unbelievably, been a decade since I was in love. I’d had relationships — some serious, one as short as a day, and more two- to three-month experiments than I could count — but for the most part, for the bulk of my adult life, I had been single. Those 10 years crept up quickly. I love being alone. I can, often to my own detriment, fill hours, days, sometimes weeks, with actives of complete solitude without a speck of loneliness.
There was no rush in my twenties. Intent on my career, being single felt more like a badge than a blemish. I watched friends from high school, then couples from college, pair up and settle down. Not me. I wanted independence, self-discovery, the autonomy to make my own choices. I moved to an apartment in the East Village and jumped head-first into a fancy consulting job, followed by a cross-country move to California for business school. I met other women with ambitious goals and strong ideals and we clung to one another, our new friendships built on shared challenges and tools we were just learning to articulate. We reminded each other not to over-apologize, shared tips on power stances that felt so goofy but worked so well, urged one another to speak up and ask for what we wanted; tools the other 75 percent of the student body, for the most part, didn’t need to think about.
In the spring of 2012 I turned 30. With grad school behind us, my friends and I settled into good positions at good jobs, found livable-sized apartments in San Francisco, built lives we were proud of. And then, as if someone had given a signal that I clearly didn’t catch, my friends started getting married. Women I never thought of as codependent, couples I never imagined needing the safety of marriage; because they weren’t, they didn’t. They were just in love, and it was time.
Like all good business school graduates, my friends and I did the math — if you wanted to date someone for a few years before marriage, and then live together for a few years before kids, and then maybe even have another kid, and do it all before 40 — well, yeah, it was time. So while some started sporting rings, my still-single friends and I doubled down on dating. And although I had never in my life imagined a wedding dress, and still didn’t really get the point of an engagement ring, I found myself in a wedding wind tunnel; everyone around me either getting married or trying to.
In San Francisco that meant downloading every possible dating app. Many of us were averaging at least three dates a week and meeting regularly to discuss our progress. Spreadsheets may or may not have been involved. Google doc shares abounded. We listened to each other’s stories with care, assuring one another that of course he must be a literal psychopath if he never called back after such an intimate night, or that he wasn’t worth a goddamn second if he couldn’t even schedule a date 24 hours in advance. For years, we were each other’s support — emotionally and physically. We chaperoned wisdom teeth removals, held surprise birthday parties, gave each other pep talks before big meetings, cooked dinner together on Sunday nights. Being single in a world of couples made us not only appreciate, but prioritize one another. We were family.
But eventually, I had to move closer to my real family. My parents were getting older, and California, no matter how great my friends were, would never be home. And, although I was scared to admit it, at 34, I needed a change.
“If you think the San Francisco dating scene is bad, wait till you get to New York,” people warned me. I would widen my eyes to try and look scared, but the truth was, I couldn’t wait. If I knew one thing about my move back to New York, it was that I did not want to date.
Dating had sucked the life out of me. I was sick of telling my story, a story that not long ago felt unique and personal, but now felt empty and scripted. I was sick of throwing out commentary on hot topics like Instagram (what I consider the essence of our culture’s narcissism) and board games (painful distractions from any attempt at real connection) — comments that used to feel contrarian and clever but now, almost five years later, seemed manufactured, an assembly line of remarks. I was sick of trying to prove myself through intimate life details to people who weren’t even worth the time it took to program their names in my phone. With each date I felt more like the profile I was trying to represent, and less like an actual person. I would re-read my profiles on each site often, to remind myself what my date was expecting. It felt so off — it wasn’t me — but when I tried to change it, I drew a blank. Maybe it was?
When I moved to New York I went from having a family of friends who knew every detail of my life to having a handful of acquaintances who knew nothing at all.
“It’s hard to meet people in New York,” I heard people say, “Everyone’s so busy.” Again, I feigned concern.
New York, with its large, faceless crowds and anything-goes attitude, felt like a shield from the wedding wind. I knew no one, and even though I was smack in the middle of the densest U.S. city, it felt like a vacuum. And in that vacuum, without anyone watching or any force pushing me, I stopped dating. I had no one to report to. I deleted all the apps on my phone. Instead, I started doing something I loved but never thought worth my time — I started writing. I spent almost every night alone with my laptop. At first I was afraid to admit that I was spending so much time on something that seemed, in terms of life milestones, completely pointless. I didn’t know how to write; my career was in tech. But it was all I wanted to do, and with no one to answer to, there was no reason not to. I started going to classes and workshops and spent most of my Friday nights on the couch with an essay and a box of cereal. I woke up early, eager to sit down and put words to paper before my real job.
“Wild, I know…” I would joke to my friends back in San Francisco about my nights alone in New York. But compared to my chronic online dating, it really was.
“Doing what you want” is a loaded, indecipherable phrase for women. It’s nearly impossible to know what you actually want when expectations are piled high. I always assumed that having kids was part of adulthood— what people did when they grew up, the next step to becoming a whole, fulfilled person — and that getting married was the necessary precursor. But when I asked myself: do I actually want children? I had no idea. A caretaker, I am not. Pets frighten me and I’ve never owned a plant because I don’t understand why anyone would want to waste time watering it. But I identify as an achiever, and so the thought of not getting married and having kids — something so core to what I’ve always imagined as the female experience, something that seemed so simple for everyone else in the world — was terrifying. It felt like failure.
Letting myself escape the tunnel at a moment when I was supposed to be reaching the end, really did feel wild. Being happy on my own terms was a relief, even if happiness for me meant pulling my hair out over an essay for weeks at a time without leaving my studio. Even if happiness for me meant something entirely different than what everyone said happiness for me should mean.
I still go on the occasional date, and if I meet someone I get along with, I’m still excited by it. But I’ve allowed myself the possibility that maybe, ten years later, there’s still no rush. If I don’t meet someone who makes me happier than I make myself, then maybe that’s OK; I don’t need to go out of my way to search for something I’m not even sure I want. In many ways, that uncertainty is a gift. For women who know they want biological children, the pressure is real. Real, physical limitations accelerate the need to find a partner, and my sympathies, for that grueling task, in a society that pathologizes women who go steadily after what they want, is enormous. I am rooting like crazy for my friends who are searching on a timeline, and for every one of their priorities, so long as they’re desired, not assumed.
People’s assumptions hit me daily. I have nothing of interest to report to colleagues when they ask what’s new. When I say I spent the weekend writing — not for work, just pleasure — most people stare at me as if I told them I spent the weekend walking in circles on the sidewalk. Unable to find the right response, they want to ask “why?” but choose a polite “cool” instead.
My lack of concern concerns others. They think I have given up. But — often to my own detriment — I’ve never been one to give up. And so this concept of giving up haunts me. I think about it for days, and then months, and now years until I asked myself what it is exactly that I’m giving up. And when I look at the relationships I’ve surrounded myself with — my friends who still call me when they need someone to listen or understand or laugh, or my family who I can now see regularly, or myself who I finally, years later, feel re-acquainted with — I realize it’s not connection that I’m forfeiting, and it’s not the potential for love that I’m losing. I am giving up on the notion that finding a partner comes before all else. I’m giving up on other’s people’s expectations of what it means to be a woman and getting closer to defining that for myself. And it’s been a long time since something felt so right.
61 year old Kerry Lee Pineiro told the police she had “zero story” and told them to take her to jail!
