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Joseph
66 Miami, Florida, United States
Seeking: Female 25 - 50
Body style: Slim
I like a woman who is pleasant, nice, who would provide me with her inspiration, advice and support, loyal educated and a good conversationalist. I do a lot of volunteer work with disabled veterans, at our local Medical Centers, who got hurt in this war. They remind me of myself,when I arrived stateside on a stretcher after being badly hurt during an earlier war. I also work with the elderly and the infirm of my parish. I do a lot of other charity work.I would love a woman who is loyal, supportive and understanding, just as I am.I SO DISLIKE HOT TEMPERED WOMEN who are unable to control themselves. I am a very loyal man, It has been said said about me that I am very sweet, also my word is my bond. I am Drug and Disease free. I am quite healthy and I require the same from my mate, it is only fair, thank you. Also, I am an incurable romantic, who has visited many countries. I like dancing and also quiet times with my lover. I am very sensual and soft spoken. I am well developed with the necessary endowment from Our Creator, I also must mention my virility and an educated mind and even more educated hands. I love night time walks on the beach while in the company of my soulmate, for reflexion and exchange of communication. My nickname was given to me by my flying buddies during my jet jock days and while at Flight School, (Basic). I went out on early retirement as an airline pilot and I am also retired military, although I still have a commission as Major. I did this so that I could enjoy life a bit more. I have been divorced for 3 years now. I started looking and dating since about 3 months ago. I would like to meet a woman for a sincere relationship, prepared to go with it to wherever that relationship may lead us. I am just not afraid.
Timothy
40 San Diego, California, United States
Seeking: Female 22 - 28
Body style: Slim
There are so many things a man could say about himself, and in so many ways. I am going to tell a little fiction with a little truth, the truth part is easy enough to see the fantasy is that it would never be, my ideal trip to Ukraine: Stepping off a bus that has seen so many miles the meter has broken, I would find myself in a little village, just far enough from the crowds and noise of the big city to get some clarity. A thin layer of snow would crunch under my feet as I got off the bus and stepped onto the curb. In front of the bus station/laundry mat/video rental center, I would hail one of only 2 taxis in the whole village and with my horrible Russian somehow manage to get him to understand I want to go to a bed and breakfast place. 20 minutes I would find myself in front of a two story blue house, with white trim, smoke curling out of the redbrick chimney, and a few chips of paint missing from the wood siding that is at least 100 years older than I am. The keeper of the house would be a widow in her sixties, with a rather sour disposition. She would lecture me that her inn was not a house for call girls, Americans should stay in the city where they can chase women, and leave her alone. Through some miracle I would convince her I just wanted some quiet and a room with some good food. Reluctantly she would send me up the stairs, and tell me to pay in cash. For dinner I would walk down the road a little ways to a little diner. No one would really say much to me, it is a small village and I obviously belong about as much as stray dog, and will be gone soon enough. That night I would shiver and freeze half the night, the fire went out about the same time I went to bed. Living in CA for so long I certainly wouldn’t be prepared for winter in Ukraine. Wearing my jacket, gloves and hat in bed somehow I would manage to get a few hours of sleep. Dragging my stiff body out of bed, I can smell bread from the kitchen, and something else I cannot place but is certainly pleasant. I crawl down the stairs to find her stirring soup, and pulling bread out of the oven, at least the meal would be warm. Whether she likes me or not she is proud of her cooking, and besides the worst of her cooking probably beats the best American cooking anyway. After a shower that could barely qualify as warm I make way back down stairs and go for a walk to explore around the house. Next to the house I see a small pile of firewood that was obviously split a long time ago, and in the back yard is a heap of uncut wood piled behind a rusty double blade axe. Now I see the problem, this old woman, strong and capable as she is, is no lumberjack, and apparently her grandson hasn’t been by to cut the wood, so she is trying to make the cut wood last by using it so sparingly. Ha, I have a cure for that! I decided to not even ask, because I know her answer would be, “No”. Figuring she is doing some sort of house work, I walk out to the shed. The axe is rather dull, but I see a file on the bench nearby so, I put a new edge on the blade, and get to work. I manage to split about 6 logs before she catches me… here it comes. She comes running out of the house, screaming something in Russian that I am sure is close to, “What are you doing you idiot!” I put the axe down so she won’t be upset, well not as much, and pick up the wood and start carrying to the stack by the house, with her yelling at me the whole way. After I set the wood down, she plants herself firmly between me and the shed, pointing towards the road and yelling. That is my signal to leave it alone for now. I walk into village and visit some of the parks. The trees are painted with ice, and people are indoors. Everything is quiet, except for the occasional car driving by. The quiet of winter, it has no birds or dogs on kids doing summersaults. I go back to the same diner for lunch. The look I expected, mild surprise that I am still around, I find on a few people’s faces. The woman who waited on me the night before is there again. She is very pleasant to me, and beautiful, but not my type, oh well. I risk going back to the house. I look around for the old lady, but she is nowhere in sight, now is my chance. Looking over my shoulder the whole way I jog back out to the woodshed. I manage to split about 3 days worth of wood before she catches me… here it comes. She yells at me again, waving her arms, and almost to the point of crying she is so upset. She screams at me to go back in the house. Somehow or another I manage to understand that she is going to make some extra soup for dinner and that she would rather I eat there than see me eating at the diner for every meal. She does put an extra log on the fire at least. Thank God, I might not have to wear my jacket to bed. The stew she makes is excellent beyond words! It also goes a long way to warming the body back up after being out in the cold all day. I don’t really know what is in it but I am too hungry to care. I crawl into bed fooling the good kind of tired that comes from a hard day’s work. By the time I open my eyes again it is about 4 am… what is that noise? The old lady… she snores like a freight train, holy cow. She house if freezing again. I sneak down to kitchen and put some kindling in the wood stove and get the fire going again. Wait a second… she old lady is out cold snoring her head off… no way she will hear me splitting wood out back. Now is my chance. I grab my head lamp out of my suitcase and creep out the back door. There it is, the axe and the wood pile. I get to work again. By the time the sun comes up I have split a week’s worth of wood. I keep going, certain that my time is running out. She is going to through me out this time for sure. I put my back to the house and work furiously to cut as much wood as I can before she catches me. Another hour goes by, and then another… nothing. I’m getting pretty hungry now. Wait a second, ha, she is going to wait for me come back inside and then yell it me! New snow is starting to fall gently around me. Forget it, I’m not hungry enough to take another tongue lashing from that crazy woman. Besides I split almost one quarter of the wood pile so far this morning. Working at a little slower pace I keep on going, I don’t need food to work. My body is soaked with sweat, and my arms are getting heavy… dehydration, hadn’t thought of that. I eat some snow and keep going. I can’t tell you how much time passed, all I remember is hearing her voice for the first time. “It is time to stop and have lunch.”… wait a second… that was English… I turn around to find a woman standing behind me with steaming cup in her hands. “Go in the house and eat, and stop cutting the fire wood, it is embarrassing for my grandmother to have her guest to be cutting fire wood.” The sly old bat, she found my weakness. Pink cheeks and eyes that could cut steel or light up the coldest room, depending her mood. I knew I was embarrassing the old lady, but I was too cold to care and the work needed to be done anyway. When I came back into the kitchen there was bacon and eggs on a plate and soup. I ate quietly, the grand-daughter glaring at me and talking with the widow… Just as I am starting into the soup I hear a truck pull up and see a man get out of the truck and start stalking towards the wood shed. “My husband will cut the wood, stay out of the wood shed…” says the grand-daughter. She’s married, just my luck. I look up to see her and the widow looking at me. She isn’t mad anymore… it is something different. Something almost like… pity? I could hear her thoughts echoing of the back of her head, “Stupid American is so lame he has nothing better to do than come to a little village in Ukraine and split wood at an old widow’s bed and breakfast… this can’t be good.” Not really feeling like I have a reply and too hungry to care, I finish the meal. “Go out and enjoy the village, the shops are further down from the diner, third street on the left. Be back for dinner.” Was all the grand-daughter said and turned away to start on dishes… As I left the house I saw the husband look over his shoulder to glare at me… Oh well, at least the old lady’s winter lumber was going to get cut. I need to get gifts for family anyway so I go to the shops. I’m horrible at shopping. I don’t know why I even bother. I wander for hours and don’t buy anything… can’t make up my mind, and don’t need to, I have two more days until I have to go back to the city and do what I came to do. I “shop” until my stomach begins to grumble. A sharp reminder I had better get back for dinner or face the combined wrath of both the widow and her grand-daughter. When I get back the house is a little warmer than I remember from the nights before, at least she is using the firewood. I make way into the kitchen. The old widow is finishing the last of the dinner, singing something to herself that I don’t understand but is pleasant anyway. She puts dinner in front of me and says something in Russian that I think was “Thank you”, and quickly leaves me alone at the table. I eat alone, again, how many meals in a row now… 100… 1000 meals alone? I don’t know. The grand daughter and husband are nowhere in sight or hearing either. I make my way up to bed, and fall and start to fall asleep… “why did she have to be married?” By the time I wake up the sun is already up… I pushed myself too hard the day before. The house is already warm, and I can smell breakfast. I make my way down to the kitchen to find a full spread on the table, eggs, sausage, orange juice, something I don’t the name of but looks like a pancake. I see a woman at the sink… not the old lady, is it the grand-daughter? It could be, it is early and my eyes are blurry from sleep. “You are just in time, sit down and eat.” wait a second, that was English, but not the grand-daughter. I sit down and say, “You know what I don’t know anyone’s name here, who are you?” She looks over and smiles… oops wrong move, the eyes again, I didn’t know my heart could split in half and jump into my throat and sink into my stomach at the same time. “Me? This is my grand-mother’s house, I am helping her…” wait a second… how many grand-daughter’s does this woman have? What does she have her own private army of beautiful woman locked in the basement to get everyman in this village to do her bidding? “I thought the woman from the other day…”, “That was my cousin, Yulia…” I just sit there for a second, plate full of food… and look at her. She looks back at me and smiles. The whole family if an army of sharp tongued super models led by this crazy old bat widow, what did I get myself into? Maybe more than I had ever hoped for… “You are sort of slow aren’t you? Eat, when I am around you will not go hungry…” So it begins, a whole new story… I know it is just fantasy, but it is fun isn’t it?

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