Chapter 1

There is nothing innocent about me, or what happened to me. I make no apologies for my choices or the results.

I was divorced for the third time in my life in 2008. I am not proud of that. Sad is the best way to describe it. Three times divorced is not a record any man should strive to achieve.

My first marriage was a fool's errand. I was 18 and she was 17 and pregnant. She - we - got pregnant in July. We were married in October, the nineteenth to be exact, and our son was born in May. By the time he was eight months old, she was gone and so was my son. What happened? Hell, I'd be lying if I told you that my memories were accurate. I have told the story so many times that I no longer know what is true and what's invention. All I can be sure of is that she ran away with a drummer from a rock band. After all these years, I still remember his name. I will keep his last name from these pages – but his first name was Kenny. Within the year of her leaving me, we were divorced. That was in Vermont. I was twenty when I got the final divorce judgment. All I can say is that over the years, my assessment that she was clinically nuts seems to have been borne out.

It would be eleven years before I married again.

I had some short-term girlfriends in those long years, but for the most part I was alone. There were a few intense relationships, each lasting about a year. Between each, there were years of true celibacy. I never learned to play the field or date casually. I was either playing with all my chips on the table or I was sitting it out completely. During those celibate years I would wonder if my fate was to be married to my right hand for the rest of my life. The failed marriage had left me feeling that I was not desirable; that I was incapable of attracting a truly desirable woman. Most of my relationships were with damaged women who had little to give me, and no way to grow into a healthy relationship. Why were they damaged? The reasons varied, but the fact is that I sought them out. I figured that with them I had a chance of getting lucky for a day or two. I didn't give myself a chance with women who weren't damaged. I didn't try. Or ... you could say with some honesty, I didn't know how. In all honesty, maybe I still don't.

My second marriage lasted exactly thirteen years. The divorce was granted by the court on our wedding anniversary. (The odds are 364:1 and considering 365 random things probably happen each day, it's not as unlikely as you might think.) There were a few days of good marriage, followed by twelve years of hell. For the last few years we slept in separate rooms and lived separate lives. I finally swallowed my pride/shame and admitted defeat. I left the marriage because it was the only sane thing left to do. It was that or continuing to live with a woman who had a hard time distinguishing her funds from the funds of others. Her first embezzlement had cost me in the end about ninety thousand dollars. When I left the marriage she was playing fast and loose with federal funds and I wanted no part of it. The judge didn't believe me and pounded me in the divorce decree.

Five years later, I married again. I thought I had learned from my past disasters, but that was not the case. We were together a little over eight years before I left the marital residence and seven months later, she filed for divorce. She was a good woman. Not nuts, not a thief, but damaged in other ways. Truth be told, was I not damaged? I was and am damaged by the events of my life. It is fair to say that the marriage just did not 'take.' It was both our faults. On my side, it was probably far too much scar tissue from my past experiences.

So here I am, overweight, with high blood pressure, and false teeth. I snore so loud that I bet you can hear me if we have rooms next to each other in a hotel.

In many ways I am a good man, but for whatever reason marriage and I do not work well. Was it my entire fault each time? As you can tell, I think not; however after three failures, you have to question my ability to make good choices!

Could I get married again? Sure, I guess, if I married someone who I had no interest in, but what's the point in that. The sad truth is that at this point in my life I am only emotionally responsive to slim, pretty women at least fifteen years my junior and, in truth, usually even younger. Considering all that I am, no one of such a group, who has her head on straight, is going to put me on her 'A' list.

Truthfully, I really don't want to marry again.

For the entire time I was in my three marriages, I was not rich and sometimes I was pretty poor.

During my entire last marriage, I was in a lawsuit to recover income and ownership that was illegally taken from me over a year prior to the marriage. Even though we got along OK financially, there was this big payday always hanging out there.

It is still hanging out there when we get divorced.

I am fifty-seven. I have a house to live in. (I had never sold my house when I moved into my third wife's home. That should have set off alarms!) I am alone, just barely getting by financially, and sexually starved. As much as I would like to get laid regularly and frequently, there are no options.

Hell, for the first seven months back in my house I sleep on a couch. I go through so many variations on how to set up the couch as my bed that I give them version numbers. By the time the mattress I purchased finally arrived, I am on Couch v4.2-5. It actually works quite well.

Family? I have a son age 39 and a daughter aged 37. Both live in a different state. Though I love them both very much, they have little to do with my life on a daily basis.

I live in a truly rural part of the American West. The kids live in NYC.

Once the reality of the third divorce sinks into my skull, I know that I do not want another wife. I do not want, will not be able to find, a mistress; but need the ministrations of a prostitute on a regular basis. While my need for emotional intimacy will go unmet, my need for physical intimacy might be met. There are only two problems: I do not know any prostitutes; I do not have the money to pay for one, yet. But that might change.

I just hang out; not quite a hermit but without anything going on either.

When the legal settlement finally comes about, that is the state I have been in for a while.

The settlement does not leave me filthy rich as some got to be in the "dot com" boom of the nineties, but I am now financially secure. In addition, I am still working and drawing a salary. I can easily afford a prostitute. I figure I would allocate two thousand dollars a month for whatever that will get me. The rest I will invest. As I am in a rural area, I have no idea how much those dollars will purchase in services, assuming there are any services to purchase.

Finding a prostitute is not easy in a small town. <Split> As I continue my search for one, I have an unexpected visitor.

My mother, age 93 at the time, decides it was time to see her son. She flies 2000 miles and I pick her up at the Airport in Denver. Her time with me is in some ways a revelation.

She says: It's my fault – and your father's – that you have failed at the marriages. We never argued. We had a perfect marriage and you never learned how to deal with normal marriage issues. We were a bad role model.

Well in truth, that is a bunch of bullshit. Bullshit, to the extent that it is her fault. She is right that they never seemed to argue, but that is because they both respected each other and because as much as he chose not to exercise his authority, we all knew he had it. He had the final say, if one was needed. It just never seemed to be needed.

What came next isn't bullshit, it is just plain crazy.

She says: Go find a girl. Look overseas. Find a girl who will give you children.

I look at her. She is nuts. I probably say as much.

She insists that I am not too old and that other men have done it. Finally she says that if I go to meet a girl, she will help pay for the trip. She can afford it (as can I) but it is sort of a 'double dog dare you' type of thing.

Before I put her back on a plane to go home I am looking at Asian dating websites. I post my profile on a couple of them. One of them is a loser and nothing comes of it. The other comes alive in a way I cannot believe. I am inundated by offers from women who want to meet me.

So now my less that intense interest in the possibility is refocused. This thing is becoming real and serious. I have no idea about the process. Before I go an inch farther, it is time for homework.

I learned that there was a formal process for becoming engaged overseas and bringing the fiancée back to the USA for marriage. At which point the girl gets a provisional green card. It is not easy, it is bureaucratic, but that means it is also doable.

All along, I had said, and I say here again, I really did not want another wife. I am having second thoughts about this even as I start the process. I decide, that even if I do get married, I will make sure by all, including legal means, that I have no obligations to be monogamous.

Still the Visa rules make it damned hard to bring in a Mistress. In fact, the Visa rules are incredibly restrictive.

My web/dating profile includes my correct height, weight, age and an honest picture. I list all my drawbacks and make it clear I am looking for a woman who would bear me children. By my calculations that means she has to be no older than 35 presently. That will make her at least 22 years younger than I am.

I get a few invites from older women, but the flood is from women aged from 25 to 34. I get a serious one from an 18 year old! Are they all pretty? No, but a surprising number are attractive to my eyes. I have in subsequent years come to the conclusion that Anglos assess beauty in Asian women differently than do Asian women assessing Asian women. But from my vantage point it is like walking into a candy store. There is a proviso. I have read many warnings about cons and that women aren't always what they appear to be. This issue of doctored (photo-shopped) photos, and doctored letters is irrelevant when dealing with women in the Philippines since those women I deal with can read/write and speak English and will engage with you over a webcam at an internet café. It costs the Filipina P20 (Philippine Pesos) for an hour at the café to chat with me.

Knowing what the women really look like, sound like and such was not an issue. If you don't send them money, it is hard for them to scam you. Some do essentially demand money and those I turn away from with alacrity.

I make it clear to all the women I meet this way that when I head over to the Philippines, that I am not there just to meet only them. I will meet a number of women before I make a choice. That in retrospect is a very smart move.

By the time I am ready to travel in August 2008, I am interested in three women. Each has a daughter. The women range in age from 25 through 32. I will call them Drama, Ganda (pronounced G-ah-n-da) and Joy.