Back when I lived in Wisconsin, we would often take trips up to Amish country to take a break from city life. It was about a three hour drive away from our house, and we would have to wind through mountains and the see the most breathtaking scenery to get there. I honestly wish I could pack up and move there forever.

Anyway, I had seen the signs advertising Amish furniture. You buy it directly from the Amish… and they are SOOOO nice. And this was the same stuff I had seen in those high end stores where they were charging upwards of $3,000 for a set. I could buy it for $400!! And so I did. I got myself a whole new kitchen set (which I still have to this day) and a bunch of other little items.

But then, I spotted a sign that said “Authentic Amish Quilts”. I have always wanted to be one of those people who has the nice bedding and then the fabulously crafted quilt folded up at the foot of their bed; Something handed down from 100 years before - and will never ever happen in my family. So naturally, having something called authentic + Amish  was the way for me to go.

When we walked in there were quilts everywhere in every color, size, design. It was amazing and I wanted to buy everything! We asked a lot of questions, and were told it takes 4-6 months to complete just ONE. We could custom order one, and they could put a rush on it but that would take 3-5 months. No way in hell was I going to wait MONTHS for the opportunity to turn my bedroom into a picture straight out of Better Homes and Gardens.

I looked around for almost an hour until I saw it. It was beautiful. Light green and ivory… the pattern was perfect for my bedroom… the colors looked like an exact match… I could not have asked for a better one to be made just for me!

I did a little dance of joy and squealed. I pointed like my tongue had been ripped out or something, all while making little insane noises. The DH told the young lady helping us in the search that we had found one (which was quite obvious by how stupid I was looking at the time.)

Now, no where in my enthusiasm had I asked for a price. We asked 101 questions but never what the cost might be.

And then she sprung it on me. My lovely quilt was going to cost me more than all the furniture and other crap I had bought COMBINED.

I looked to my DH for a sign. Of course he had lost all his color (he has so little so it wasn’t much of a change) and was staring at me like I should have all the answers.

So I said I would take it.

It would take me 2 months of working to pay it off, and I did not care. Mind you I was getting paid a lot less back then.

Fast forward about 13 years and the life of the quilt has been a great one. It has traveled with us to each of our new homes still looking brand new. It’s been oooohed and ahhhhhhed at. My mom has been dying to steal it from me for years which will never happen. It’s been fortunate to have only have been touched by two people. All from inside its cozy home inside of sterile clear plastic bag with it’s own little zipper.

It’s been used once.

And why has it been used only once? Because I am so neurotic that after spending all that money, I do not want it destroyed. I have cats, and dogs. I certainly don’t want them on it. I seriously have it in my head that when I finally move into a brand new house, I will put it out. That way I will be secure in knowing it’s safe and I won’t come home to discover it has been made into a new bed by one of my furry babies.

Ultimately, the true reason must be that I am in desperate need of therapy or an intervention. For real. I wouldn’t even take it out to photograph it for this post.

Hurry and send the men in white coats please.

I met my husband online.

Yes… on the computer. The same thing I use to write my posts.

The same place where I have met so many amazing females who will be ‘aunts’ to my kids.

When I speak to people about these women who have become personal friends of mine, the women I chat with occasionally on the phone, or even the ones I hope to someday meet, no one gives me a cautionary tale about being careful. No one tells me they could be a psycho murderer who has bad intentions.

However, when I mention that I met my husband on the interwebs I get looked at like I have lost my mind. I get asked a million and one questions as if what I am saying is the craziest thing in the world. This morning on the radio, I listened to a DJ tell a woman she was crazy for wanting to meet someone she met online who she had been talking to for over a year. It really pissed me off. I had a woman once tell me I was lucky to be alive because my husband could have killed me.

Why is it assumed that if you meet someone online they are:

• married
• not the person they claim to be
• an ax murderer
• a pedophile
• not in their right mind

Do these issues not apply to people we meet on a day-to-day basis? I see people everyday who scare me a lot more than someone I spoke to in a chat room. And I am certain serial killers DO lurk in local bars and churches not just online. How many of those high profile murders we have heard of in recent years involved a relationship that started online? I Googled ‘online relationship murder’ and got a bunch of hits for the murder of a young man by his co-worker. And that murder was because they both were supposedly involved with the same woman online.

The guys who consistently beat my ass and made me feel like trash were men I met at church, outside my house, at the grocery store.

Granted, in the many years of me meeting and talking to different people online, I have only ever encountered one mental case. He and I were just casual friends and he gave me some sob story about his wife recently dying. He was having a hard time coping and so he appreciated my friendship… that’s what he said. Months passed with me calling him and talking to him through his grief. Nothing unusual happened. And then one day he called me drunk as hell slurring some words and then hung up. He came online and was making threats and saying he was going to hurt himself so like any friend would, I called him.

His wife answered the phone.

His dead wife answered the phone.

Mind you, she was not mad at her husband when I told her everything I knew about the situation since according to her she already knew he was telling people she was dead. I wasn’t the first, and I wouldn’t be the last. And then she laid every ounce of the blame on me for pursuing her husband. No matter how many times I said I did not want her man she would not hear it. I ended up hanging up on her and for a few weeks after that she emailed me nasty letters and called my house like we were 15 year old’s fighting over the high school hunk.

So that’s one case out of over a hundred people I have met in the past 20 years.

Out of the 10 or so men I have met and dated out in the real world, only 2 were who they claimed to be. Six of them abused me in some form or another. Two of those six enjoyed hitting and verbally assaulting me. Seven of them cheated on me.

Maybe I am just naive.. or stupid… I don’t know… But I really need someone to explain to me what makes online relationships so taboo. Why are we labeled crazy when it usually turns out that your new husband, the love of your life, the man you met in college who is doing so well in his new FBI position is really some deranged man living a double life working at the gas station in the next town up to his eyeballs in debt and porn and currently plotting your murder?