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My Prison Pen Pal Proposal Debacle: A Love Story Gone Wrong 

Buckle up, folks, because I’m about to haul you through the wild hell of my most unhinged romantic disaster. This tale’s got more twists than a soap opera bender. I joined a prison ministry pen pal program, thinking I’d spread some light. Instead, I got suckered by a wannabe minister with a rap sheet, leaving my heart bruised and my head spinning. Here’s how I fell for a jailbird and fought my way out. 

The Pen Pal Meet-Cute 

It started innocently, about 8 years ago, like a rom-com before it crashes into hell. I signed up to write letters to inmates, hoping to brighten a cell. Enter Jailhouse Jake (fake name, real shady vibes), a guy studying to become a minister, of all things. His letters were smoother than a shady preacher’s sermon, dripping with charm, wit, and just enough holy talk to make me think, “This guy’s got a soul!” Spoiler: that soul was on lockdown, and I was about to get played like a cheap kazoo.

A couple of years ago, I found a prison messaging site, and our pen pal game went digital. We were just friends at first, but of course I let my heart get away, even though I was hesitant at first. In my defense though, he was saying all the right things and knew how to pull the strings. After a few months, Holy crap, things got steamy fast. We were chatting like lovesick fools, and I fell hard, thinking God was waving a neon “Marry This Preacher Man!” sign. My naive ass was so wrong. 

The Four-Week Fiasco 

Four weeks after we “got together” (virtually, because, you know, prison bars), Jake, the aspiring minister, drops a bombshell: a proposal. A freaking proposal! From a guy in an orange jumpsuit quoting Bible verses! And me, drunk on love and dumber than a sack of hammers, said yes. He checked every box: charming, sweet-talking, A "devoted Christian" and supposedly heaven-sent. I was ready to carve his inmate number on my heart. He even convinced me we were married—spiritually, at least—for a few months. I was out here planning our post-parole honeymoon, y’all, like a lovesick ass. 

But then, like a twist in a low-budget thriller, Jake’s true colors came out, and they were uglier than a prison slop tray. Minister, my ass.

Red Flags Flying Like a Circus Parade

Once I was hooked, Jake went from saintly student to manipulative ass faster than you can say “lockdown.” He’d only call when his daughter ghosted him, treating me like the backup in his phone queue. He accused me of never compromising, even though I was bending over backward like a circus clown. Called me pushy and controlling when I dared have an opinion. Disagree with him? He’d cut off affection like a warden slamming the gate, all while preaching about love and forgiveness.

The real kick in the ass? He blamed God for “annulling” our fake marriage, knowing full well we were never hitched. This minister-in-training had the nerve to wield divine excuses like a crooked televangelist. When I called him out on lies—like denying stuff he’d said five minutes ago—he’d shrug like I was the crazy ass. And when I set boundaries, saying no to sexting and certain bedroom stuff (because of my convictions, thank you very much), he dumped my ass faster than you can say “lights out.” This dude dragged me through emotional and mental hell, leaving me with depression and anxiety that hit like a sledgehammer.

Rising Like a Champ

That breakup was a gut-punch, no lie. Jake’s hypocritical mind games sent me spiraling into depression and anxiety, feeling like my heart got shanked in a prison yard scrap. But you know what? I’m fighting back like a badass champ. With faith, grit, and a truckload of humor, I’m stitching my heart back together, stronger than ever. I realized we were never married—divine or otherwise—and kicked his sorry, sermon-spouting ass to the curb (metaphorically, since he’s still behind bars).

Lessons from the Lockup 

What did I learn from this hellish mess? First, if a guy’s studying to be a minister in Cell Block C, maybe don’t order the wedding cake. Second, when someone shows you they’re a lying ass, believe them the first time, even if they’re clutching a Bible. And third, never settle for anything less than what you're worth and stay true to yourself. Don't back down on your needs or values for anyone. 

If you’ve ever been burned by a smooth-talking disaster like Jake, hold up—you’re not alone, and you’re tougher than you think. Love can drag you through hell, but it doesn’t get to write your ending. Every heartbreak is a lesson, every tear a step toward something better. You’ve got the strength to rise above the pain, just like I’m doing, kicking depression and anxiety’s asses with every laugh and prayer. Keep your chin up, find the humor in the chaos, and trust that real love—the kind that builds you up instead of breaking you down—is waiting out there. You’re a champ, and you’ve got this.

I’m free now, laughing at my own ridiculous ass, and ready to roll into a new chapter without Jake’s jailhouse preacher drama dragging me to hell. Here’s to finding love that doesn’t need a visitor’s pass—and to never falling for another smooth-talking inmate’s sorry ass again, minister or not.

Got a dating disaster that tops this tale? Drop it in the comments—I need proof I’m not the only one who got suckered by a charming ass! Stick around for more deets on my crazy love life! LilG out!