Pápa CTD

So Megan and I decided that we'd get out and "see" Pápa the last day I was there. We walked around town a bit - which was not such a good idea because it was FREEZING out and I definitely did not dress for it, but it was still fun. We went in the church and ended up going UP in it - which again wasn't so smart because it was really cold, but we did it anyhow.

Apparently they killed Santa and used his beard to decorate the trees in the church

Megan wasn't so comfortable looking out from the tower - note her hand clinging to the wall...

Us waiting for the train - me with my new China shop hat because it was cold out.

Pápa New Years

As you've read, I didn't have the most splendid of New Year's with all the news of Justin and his marriage- so I went to spend a couple of days with Megan. Luckily the timing was just right that I was able to see her New Year's Orchestra concert! However, before I got to attend the concert - I had to actually get to Pápa...

I started off with all the confidence in the world - I was riding the train, no big deal. I didn't have much luggage, so it was a light easy commute to my favorite place - well, any place with Megan is my favorite place, but even more so when it's the cute town of Pápa.

I bought my ticket with the seasoned confidence of a veteran Hungarian train system traveler and was on my way. I sat on a car in the middle of the train, and began to poke away at my computer. I began to set up an iPhoto book of my travels throughout Europe. I kept busy all the way to Győr and once everyone from my car disembarked in Győr, I got a bit worried. I knew that my train was going all the way to Pápa, so I was okay in this car right? I called Megan just to make sure, "I don't need to switch trains in Győr do I?" I was assured that I was on the right train and that life was good. I peeked out the door and looked, and down the platform there was a sign saying Pápa on it- no problem. As I sat back down I relaxed back into my computer happenings and did not pay much attention until the ticket guy came to my seat. His response to my ticket was, "nem... nem jo." You're kidding right? I asked if the train went to Pápa, and he said no, in fact this train was going to Sopron. The back half of the train had detached and was on its way to Pápa. The front half of the train was now on it's way to Sopron - the half that I was on. Well dang, now what? He told me to get off at the next stop and in 20 minutes, the train would come and take me back to Győr. So... I got off... here:

It was a slab of concrete with a sign that vaguely resembled Ukraine - at least that's where I felt I was.... Luckily there was a "waiting area" so I could stay there until the next train came:

Hmph. That's my white grocery bag, the rest of it is just sketchy post-Communism era construction...

No big deal right, I get on the next train, head back to Győr. I called Megan on my way back and asked when the next train was going to leave from Győr to Pápa. She told me that the next train was in too late for me to make the concert - so my best bet was to take a bus. Ok, no problem. Where was the bus station, when did it leave, what are the details??? I was told, the bus station is right under the passway from the train station and that the bus to Pápa left from platform 5. Great, I crossed under the passage and saw that there was a bus loading at platform 5. I grabbed a Diet Coke from a machine and boarded the bus. As I waited for the last two people before me to buy their tickets, the bus took off and began it's journey... in the wrong direction. This bus was heading back towards Tata - not towards Pápa. Hmph. As I got to the driver and asked for a ticket to Pápa, his reply was a curt "nem." I said in English, "shit I'm on the wrong bus" and communicated that rather clearly to the driver. He left me in the center of town, and I hoofed it back to the bus station. I called Megan again, and reported that not only had I stayed aboard the wrong half of the train, I was just on the wrong bus. Exasperated, she told me that she couldn't really help me any more.... but I assured her that I would get there... eventually. I boarded the CORRECT bus and was on my way.

When I got to Pápa we had a great lunch and did a ritualistic killing of Justin. He liked to chew lots of different flavors of gum - some of them were really weird, but he had gum in his mouth ALL THE TIME. So, on a couple of my trips to Germany and Austria, I was stocking up on gum to send him in Afghanistan. I had a number of things I was setting aside to send him, but after I found out he was a cheating bastard, none of it made it to Afghanistan. Megan and I decided that we'd chew the gum I was going to send him in a lame death ceremony of sorts. Unfortunately, it kind of back fired on us as many of the weird flavors I bought were just that - weird.

The "before" with some of the different packs out in front

Some were really nasty...

not all of them were appealing

the carcasses of the first few pieces we ate

the aftermath...

It wasn't the most effective plan of ridding myself of a former boyfriend, but it made us laugh at any rate.

After the gum ritual, we headed off to Megan's concert. I went with early while they practiced so I wouldn't have to find my way there later. I got a sneak peak of the music they played and was able to really get a feel for the group that she belonged to. What a nice treat it was. Megan also figured that if I was in there early, I wouldn't have to pay for a ticket. Well... guess what. Each of the tickets were numbered and I didn't have one. So, instead of taking care of this while I sat there for two hours, I ran downstairs with 15 minutes before the concert waiting in a frigid cold line for my "ticket." I heard someone ahead of me talking about how they were sold out - but people were still giving money and receiving tickets, so I forged forward. I bought my ticket, not sure exactly where it was, but she asked which side of the theater I wanted and I told her the right side. I got to the ticket taker, and asked where exactly the seat was because there was no seat or row number evident to me. She pointed and told me "lépscő" (stairs). Wha? Stairs? The man in front of me pointed to a stack of cushions (usually used to prevent "women" colds) and told me to take one, and choose a stair for my seat. Wow. Gotta love Hungary...

The seat cushions for the stairs (I took a picture during the practice time because I thought they were funny - maybe someone would use them WITH the padded seats of the auditorium?)

Here's me in my "seat" waiting for the concert to start. After the intermission, there were other free seats in the auditorium and the ticket takers encouraged us to fill them in. I was content where I was, reading and not paying attention to much, but when I looked up again - I was the ONLY person still on the stairs, and all the other cushions had been collected. I was the lone ranger keeping it real on the stairs:

my seat cushions, and in front my purse and book.

Megan is in the middle-right under the inverted triangle - the short cute one!!!

Megan in her cute vest - did I mention that she plays the trombone?

evidence of the fact that there was free champagne at the concert - I love Hungarians!

It was a great concert, with tunes ranging from the "Incredibles" to "Copa-Cobana" and "Schindler's List." They were very talented, and worth the three hours on the stairs. Great job Megan and company!

Old pictures... Wine cellar

Here are some old pictures from my mom's camera - it's from the time that my parents and I ate at Csenge's and had the wine cellar tour from the next door neighbor.

walking down to the cellar door

the front of the cellar

Ok... I'll stand here and have my picture taken...

Him getting the wine out of the large barrels

a tool that he and his son made - it's the front of a bicycle with a plow attachment on the bottom of the front - make do I guess...

there is the tool

the cellar

the wine...

Home!

Boo and I are home safe and sound - I will re-cap the last two weeks when I get settled in and relaxed a bit. I'm exhausted - Boo is busy exploring and we are both glad to be home.

Note to self... bring the EU passport to the airport too

Yeah, an EU passport. I bet you're wondering how me, a loyal American citizen, scored an EU passport? Sadly it's not mine, it's Boo's. Yes, my cat has an EU passport - an Állatútlevél - an animal passport.

I took Boo to the vet in November just to have her "checked" out before I headed home. While I was there, I asked the vet (who speaks English, and practiced in Ohio) if there was anything special I needed to do when bringing a pet internationally. He told me that when he traveled back from Ohio in 2000, they didn't have to have any specific paperwork or anything so it should be okay. I double checked on line and it said to "check with local officials" and to "make sure you have the proper paperwork for entry to your destination country." Ok - well, the vet told me I didn't need any additional paperwork, so I'm okay right? NO.

I traveled to the airport to pick up my parents, and planned to take care of all the info while I was there. It's a 6 hour round trip to the airport and back, so I was making use of my trip there. On the NWA's "traveling with pets" checklist, it said you had to let the airline know that you were traveling with an animal. That's no problem, I was at the airport - so I pulled out my reservation and went to the Delta/NWA ticket window. I told them right off the bat that I did not speak Hungarian, but I was returning to the United States and that I would be traveling with a cat. The Hungarian man looked back at me and had a facial expression that read something like "I don't give a shit - why are you telling me?" He looked at me blankly, and looked at my reservation and started typing away at the computer. For some reason, he couldn't find my ticket, I don't know why - I've had it since September, and I had the confirmation number and the reservation number right there. Apparently my "itinerary" had changed through some turn of events at NWA, so all the numbers changed. He finally found me and looked at me and said "yes, you're flying on the 21st of January." Oh really? I had no idea. Don't I have a piece of paper telling me that I'm flying home that day? Does he really think I didn't understand the reservation - which is in ENGLISH - to know that I was flying home on the 21st? He looked at me blankly again, and spoke rapidly to his colleague in Hungarian... next thing I know, I'm being passed off to the woman and she looked at me and took the reservation paper from the guy. She started typing fiercely on the computer, and said, "your reservation information is wrong." She wrote a new "confirmation number" on my paper and handed it back. I looked at her confused and said in English, "I came here to tell you that I'm traveling on this flight with a cat; I read that I am supposed to tell someone that I am traveling with an animal, so I'm telling you." She looked back at me and said "a cat? oh."

She then seemed to realize why I was standing there - and then switched gears to ask for the information about the cat. She asked me how big the cat was... "um, a year and a half" how much does it weigh... "um about this much (holding hands about 12 inches apart)" well... how big is the carrier... "um.... this big (holding hands 14 inches above the counter, and then holding them a foot and a half apart)." She says, "well, we need this information, and you have to get the papers from your vet." I said reassuringly, "oh, I talked to the vet already, and he said I didn't need any additional papers." I then proudly produced the papers from my manilla folder marked "Cat-Boo" and showed her the random paper that said the pet hospital had given me a cat, that paper that said that she had been fixed, and the paper that said she had received eye drops for some sort of infection. NONE of which interested her in the least. She said again, "your doctor needs to give you the right papers." Since I had already spoken with my vet, I wasn't sure what she was talking about - so I asked her to write the name of the documents I need in Hungarian on my paper so I could bring them to the vet. Her response, "don't worry - he'll know what you need." Well shit. Now what? Then, she put a 6 digit number on the top of the paper and said "and when you get the measurements and weight, call us at this number and tell us." Ok, well that at least seemed promising...

So, frustrated, and with no information having gotten where it needed to, I left the airport. In class the next week, I told my kids of my frustrating experience, and one of them piped up and said, "oh Carla, you need a passport for her." I laughed out loud and said, "good one Szandi." She was taken aback and said, "no really, it's true." I had never heard of such a thing, but I had never traveled with a pet before.

I let some time pass getting busy with other things and finally decided that I needed to get to the bottom of this in December. So - I loaded Boo back up in her container and hauled her back to the vet. (By "hauled" I mean walked the 600 meters it is to the vet's office - ahhh the luxury of living in a small town.) I waited in the foyer patiently and once the vet came out and saw me - he smiled and greeted me warmly again "Ah, hello Carla, what can I do for you?" I took Book back and told him of my endeavors at the airport and his response surprised me... "yes, you need a passport for her." Hummina what? Where was this confident answer in November? He told me that the American soldiers had "adopted" a dog and were taking her home, so they just went through the process with him - so apparently they were good for one thing ;)

I asked if we should come back with an appointment and he said, "oh no, this will just take a few minutes." Incidentally, she also needed a vaccine AND she needed to have a micro chip injected into her. WHAT? A micro chip? Yeesh. I had initially thought that if the airport were to charge me too much to bring her home, I could just change my mind and drop her carrier off against a wall somewhere, not having to deal with her any more. BUT NOW - she has a tracking chip in her and I was stuck!!! (I would never have actually left her, but it was a funny thought that now they can track her to me) So, $60.00 later, we were vaccinated, on the GPS/tracking grid, and ready for as much international travel as we wanted. BUT, of course that isn't the end.

Atilla (the vet) told me that I also had to contact a "state" vet and he had to give an additional paper and check her out so that I had all the info in its entirety. Ok... so he wrote down an address and a phone number (from a neighboring village) and sent me on my way. Well seriously. Here we go again.

I waited until after the holidays to contact the other vet - mostly because I was so annoyed with the whole situation in the first place. Ultimately, I had one of my students call him and talk to him. She told him I was returning to the US and that I needed to have him check out my cat. She asked where his office was in relation to the bus stop, since that's how I would be traveling, and surprisingly, he told her he'd just come to my house so it would be easier on the cat and me. What? He's coming to my house? JOJJ. While convenient for me, how awkward. Has an American vet EVER gone to someone's house for an appointment - except for those who are checking on farm animals? So - the next day, I waited patiently for the "state official" vet to show up and check out Boo.

I was watching out the window for a car I didn't recognize, because we hadn't told him which apartment I lived in, and a small jeep tore around the corner at 10 minutes past the appointed time. I assumed it was him, and walked down stairs to fetch him. OF COURSE - the nosy first floor neighbor lady was down there in the hallway because she too recognized a car that wasn't normally there. I told her he was with me and was here to check on my cat. Still skeptical, she stood there until he came inside and asked him what his business was there. After a brief grilling, he was allowed to pass and come up to the apartment.

He came in, made himself comfortable at the desk and pulled out some paperwork. I produced the folder "Cat-Boo" that now had some legit papers in it, not to mention a passport, and he got to work. He didn't speak a word of English, and my Hungarian is weak at best, so I just kind of stood there as he copied the information from the passport onto an additional piece of paper. "Cat... domestic....shorthair...Boo...." He scanned through the passport and noticed that one date that was stamped was too early. Apparently it's only good for 10 days- therefore necessitating an additional trip to the OTHER vet. Oh well, I can handle that. He took out his stamps and stamped with such force he could ONLY be Hungarian (they love to abusively stamp things as often as possible) and he signed some things and told me it was $20.00. Sorry, what? Don't you want to see the cat (who was hiding under the radiator in the corner)? Do you want to look at her? Do you even know that for sure I HAVE a cat? Ok - whatever, here's your 4000 Forint. Thanks for coming. Done. Right? No.

I now had the necessary paperwork, the passport, the measurements and weights, so I had another student call the number on the paper from the airport lady to tell her all these things. Well, wouldn't you know it, the number was wrong. So, she called again, still wrong. Then I googled the "Budapest Airport" and she called that number. It was apparently an old man. So she called information (the Hungarian version of 411) and asked for the Delta Airlines number. She called it, and it was a highway assistance number. Ok, now what. We tried one additional number I got off the internet, and it was a success... in that they gave us a different number because it too was wrong. FINALLY, she got through to the airport people we needed. The guy on the phone told her what he needed, and I had it all written down for her so she was set. Wrong. The container I have to carry her in is too big to be inside the plane, and since she is the only animal, they wouldn't put her below. Ok, well what do I need? She was told a soft sided, carrier that was 40x30x20 centimeters. Great... off I go again. I went to four different pet shops in town, and back to the vet -both in search of a new container and for a more updated stamp on the passport- and he recommended a "pet-smart" equivalent in the next village over. GREAT... here I go again.

I got home, dropped off Boo and set out to catch the bus. I knew where the shop was (didn't know it was related to pets, but I knew the name) but I wasn't sure which bus stop I had to get off at to get there. I thought it better to get off at the first stop in the village and then walk there rather than over shoot it and get all the way to Tatabánya to have to double back. Well, as things would have it, I got off TWO MILES too early. Insert expletive here.

I began to walk along the highway, hoping that at any turn the signs would appear that I recognized, and they were not there.... (funny enough this pet shop is right behind a McDonalds, so I was searching for the golden arches which I can usually spot miles away). I kept walking, dangerously along the fast paced race track that is highway M1 and continued until I found the shop. Hmph. I got to the store and began to look for the appropriate containers. So many to choose from, most of them too big and not soft, I wasn't sure what to do. After a once over of the aisles, I finally found the soft sided smaller containers for cats. Ok. Great - here we go... wait... it's how much? $50.00 for a carrier? My other one was only $15.00!!! UGH. So, I chose the "appropriate" one (in reality I have no idea if it's okay or not) and headed to the check out. I told the clerk that I didn't speak Hungarian, but I wondered if this container was good for the airplane because I was traveling to the US. He wasn't sure... he told me that the plastic ones were better, and I told him that I spoke to the airport and that they said I needed a soft one (ok, well actually I didn't say that at all - I said something like "speak, airport, not good, small, not plastic") he didn't know what to do, so he grabbed his phone and called a friend. Great - now I'm on the phone with a stranger, who has nothing to do with cats or the airport, but knows some English. After talking to the clerk, she told me on the phone that the answer was simple, "take the box to the airport and ask them if it is okay and if it is not, you can return it to any of the stores in Hungary." Oh. That's an excellent idea - BUT I DON'T have time to go to the airport to "check to see if the box is okay"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I bought the overpriced carrier, brought it home, "introduced" it to Boo, and that's what we're going with. Take it or leave it Budapest Airport. Done.

This is the inside of the passport - with her microchip bar code on the upper-right, and a space for her picture on the upper left. No joke. A picture.

This is the picture I think I'm going to use. Do you think it meets pet passport photo requirements?

Seriously... this cat is going to be the death of me.

"Fun" toilet paper?

I thought this was quite interesting. By accident, I grabbed the "kids-fun" toilet paper. So let me get this straight - putting these little figures on toilet paper makes it FUN to wipe? What's fun about wiping? And perhaps more importantly, what's fun about these strange creatures? I can identify a cat and a dog, but the two in the middle? Who knows. Maybe it's because I don't have kids, but this doesn't seem like the most likely way to get kids potty trained...

Ugh... Hungarian

This is why the Hungarian language is amazing (and THE most difficult) to me... 19 letters in one word? Are you kidding me?! 7 VOWELS?!

New Day!

It's Monday... and a new day. I woke up early, played with Boo, had a delicious Diet Coke, made a good breakfast and I'm ready to handle the fact that many of my students did not do their assigned homework.

I'm taking each day in stride, I hope my stride has a little "pick-me-up" in it today!! 10 Days left.

Seriously?

So - I realize that my latest posts haven't been the most pleasant, but it's reflective of what I'm experiencing in Hungary, and it hasn't been fun. After I sent a message to one of the "good" soldiers in town now, we agreed to meet and talk about what happened with Justin. He knows him from Iraq and I thought he'd have some words of wisdom for me.

Unfortunately, while at dinner, I learned that two soldiers here now (both of whom hit on me) are married, and one of the soldiers (who chased after one of my friends for a while, and who I've seen on dates with a "Balkan red" headed Hungarian) got engaged over their recent leave. One of the married ones just invited me to go to the baths with him, apparently shortly after his wife left Hungary from their Christmas European Vacation- I didn't go, and incidentally I never spent time with him other than in a group.

Additionally, while we were having dinner, four other soldiers were seated at a table near us. It was interesting because none of them greeted the guy I was with (who is 48 and happily married, and NOT cheating on his wife). He is the only decent soldier I have met - though I really wish I had never met any of them.

Today I got a message from one of the four soldiers who was at the restaurant. He basically said that I was the army slut, and I have caused them nothing but problems since they got there. Well, in case he hadn't noticed, I am not the one who pursued ANY of the soldiers - and I am also not the one who is married - so what is it to him what I do? Apparently, the TRUTH is what is causing them problems- as is my calling them out on it. He also said he understood what Justin was saying when he described me as "crazy." Ya know what, go ahead Justin. Tell people I'm crazy and a psycho. Tell me you're disappointed that I work with kids. Tell your buddies that I fabricated our entire relationship. However, YOU are the one who has to live with yourself and all the lies you've told. If the other soldiers are okay living a life where they lie and cheat and call me names to make themselves better- that's their business.

I am sad that all this is happening as I'm getting ready to leave. It's really been a tough couple of weeks. Luckily, I have some American teachers, REAL friends, coming next weekend - and I will be glad to be surrounded by people who truly care about me. Even more exciting is the fact that I will get to return to the United States soon, and be enveloped in my support system. As my mom noted, my self esteem has taken a big hit as a result of this entire debacle, but eventually, I'll get over this and move on.

Thanks for your support in this difficult and un-called for time- and thanks for letting me vent here. I hope to start a new week tomorrow with a fresh attitude, and maybe a spike in my prozac dosage. Here's to positive postings in the future...

Movin on...

Well this week has been hard. It's a combination of stress from getting ready to leave, stress for planning my last two weeks, stress planning for my new classes in Burnsville, dealing with all this Justin shit and thinking about how my life is going to change drastically (again) in two weeks. It's keeping me up at night - I'm regularly up from the 2:30-3:00 hour until about 4:30. It sucks, and learning about Justin has clouded my last weeks here a bit too much. I still don't know if he told his wife the WHOLE truth, or lied about it all to her too, but I've done all the damage I want to, it's not my deal anymore.

I'm trying to just pick up and move on, waiting for a fresh new start for everything once I return home. I'm packing, preparing (mentally and physically) and trying to squeeze everything possible in while I'm still here.

I'll update with more later... gotta upload some pictures.

Not so Happy New Year

Well, I'm sure some of you have heard, but I just learned in the last few days, that Justin was in fact married the entire time we dated. My heart sunk as soon as I learned this, and I was basically in a state of shock- I didn't know what to do. We dated almost the entire time he was here, and kept in regular contact while he was in Afghanistan. I looked forward to his e-mails and skype calls, and sent multiple messages each week to keep him updated on things in my life and in Tata, never thinking that I was the third wheel on a long-established relationship at home.

I knew from the get-go it was a shaky idea to date someone who was deployed - but it was the fear of him entering a war zone that really scared me, not the thought of a wife at home. I was skeptical at first when he first sent me a text asking to do dinner, and even more so when he apologized for not kissing me after our first date and wanted a "second chance at a first kiss" (he was so nervous at the end of the evening that he basically ran out the door). But, needless to say, I fell for him. He had the number code to get into my apartment building (since he cat sat for Boo so often) and every time I heard the buzzer go off saying someone was coming to my apartment, my heart fluttered and I raced to the door to greet him at the top of the stairs. He'd scoop me up in a big burly "I love to lift weights" kind of way, and all my woes seemed to melt instantly.

We cooked together, took walks together, confided in one another (at least I did... he apparently didn't trust me) traveled together, laughed together, had awesome adventures, cared for each other and cried together before he left for Afghanistan. Now I'm realizing that he was probably crying out of guilt or fear of his wife finding out about me. Admittedly, he wasn't truthful about many things - in fact, I wonder if he's even in Afghanistan... He took a long time to tell me about his two year old daughter, but once I asked about "Parker's mother" he assured me that there was no current relationship - they were high school friends and they shared custody.

So much of his weird behavior now makes sense. I called his house to ask which plane he was returning from leave on and he absolutely freaked out. I looked up his address on-line to send him a postcard from Paris and since his wife is listed under his phone number (under her apparent maiden name), I asked about it and he wrote it off that in order to maintain joint custody, they both had to be listed on each address Parker lived in. He recently told me that they were no longer using SKYPE in Afghanistan because of too many dropped calls - yet other soldiers were calling their families and friends using SKYPE. In fact, he is "friends" on SKYPE with some of my students, and it was from them that I learned he was still accessible on the on-line phone system, even though he'd "deleted" me as a friend. Apparently he was freaking out that he is returning home soon and I was still part of his life. He knew that the other shoe was going to drop as soon as he got home and I planned a visit. Since he found out that I spoke with is wife, he has told me that I have mental issues, am a stalker and it's disappointing that I work with kids. All the words of a coward who is a pathological liar... interesting.

I have spent so many nights wondering why he "got weird" on so many different occasions in the past, and I always blamed myself for how he treated me. I must have done something wrong, I must have said something that made him angry. Turns out, he probably was realizing that he couldn't live with himself because he was lying to two people he supposedly cared about.

The last week has been particularly difficult, but probably not as much as it is for his wife. In reaction to the solidification of the fact that he is actually married - amazing what a few strategic searches and clicks can teach you on the internet - I sent his wife a facebook message. Justin always told me that he didn't have time for things like facebook, and yet here he was - with an on-line profile, and listed as married. So, I sent his wife a message, and told her that I had dated and in fact had an intimate relationship with Justin for several months. If I were her, I'd want to know about my husband's infidelities. Now, I'm not so sure if it was the best idea, but she deserves to be treated better, and to learn this information now before investing any more time in Justin. Certainly, it was not my place to tell her this information, but apparently Justin wasn't man enough to do it himself.

He is currently denying everything, which after taking into account his past behaviors doesn't surprise me, and I'm not sure how to "prove" that he did these things. Those of you who have read my blog faithfully (besides my mom and dad) certainly know that he was a major part of my life for the last nine months. I fell for him, and gave him my heart - and lost sleep while I worried for his life in Afghanistan. Even though we claimed that we'd be "just friends" when he left - part of me was so caught up in his charm that I always left the door open for when he returned.

I understand that deployment his hard - on both sides of the relationship. That does not give you license to begin, and maintain a relationship with someone new while you're gone. It's not like we had sex once and he felt guilty and broke it off. We actively spent any time he wasn't in the field or at the gym together. He risked getting in trouble by breaking curfew to stay with me, and texted me sometimes more than 10 times a day with caring "boyfriend" messages. It's amazing to me that he can be such a brave soldier and hero in Afghanistan (and previously in Iraq) and be such a coward in real life.

As my dad said, he'd probably be safer staying in Afghanistan than having to deal with the wrath of two angry women back home.

I doubt Justin will ever speak to me again, and I don't know what his future will look like, but I'm sure I'll never get the apology I deserve. He has already proven that he's a coward, and will most likely forget I ever existed - though I doubt his wife will forget so easily.

The thing I am most sad about for me - is that for someone who has been waiting for so long for her prince to come, and who already had commitment and trust issues, this has been a severe blow to my life - every aspect of it. I have had a really difficult time dealing with this, and though I joke that "not dating married men" is my New Year's Resolution, I am still quite hurt and humiliated that I was duped in the first place.

I am equally sad for Parker, who he legitimately loved with all his heart - and moreso for his wife who he has known for several years.

So - even though I'm not a religious gal, my plea to my readers is this: please keep Justin's wife Amanda, his daughter Parker, and me in your prayers as we all try to come to terms with one person's web of lies and selfishness. Hopefully 2010 will be a good year for me, but I can't imagine that breaking up someone's marriage is good karma for the start to the new year.