Why I Married a Man 29 Years Younger

I’m 63 years old this year. I had been married twice before, yet I still opted to marry a man who is about thirty years younger than me, even though my kids were very against it.
Weird things started happening right away when I moved in with him. I woke up every morning with my legs absolutely numb and couldn’t walk. Then, late one night, I learned the scary reality about it all…

I’ve been through two bad marriages. My first husband left me because we were poor, and my second husband left me because he was sick. But my heart still wanted to be with someone. I believed in love even at this age. That’s why I married Michael, a 34-year-old fitness trainer who is 29 years younger than me.

Michael was tall and powerful, and his speech was quiet but captivating. We met in a yoga class for seniors, and he kept looking at me as if to say, “Linda, you’re still young.” That warmth drew me in like a moth to a flame. My kids, Emily, 40, and David, 35, were quite upset. But I said, “I can’t live just for my kids.” I deserve to be happy too. And so I signed the documents for the marriage.

But within a week, troubling signs started to show up. Every morning, my legs felt feeble, like all of their strength had been taken away overnight. I thought it was just getting older or maybe Michael’s too much enthusiasm, since every night at 11 p.m. he pushed me past my limits.

One night, I couldn’t take it anymore and contacted Emily: “Come get me tomorrow…”
But when I woke up before daylight, Michael was no longer in bed. As I crept toward the flickering light in the living room, my feet felt numb. And then I stopped.

Michael

sat cross-legged in front of a tiny table. His black shirt clung to his body, and the candlelight made his slicked-back hair shine. The light made strange shadows on his face. There was a paper figure folded like a person and a bowl of clear water in front of him. He was kneeling low and chanting in a language I didn’t know.

I was horrified when he drew out a needle and poked the paper doll. Every time I got a prick, it felt like a thousand pins were stabbing me in the legs. I got scared. He wasn’t just meditating; he was doing magic. And I was the one they were after.

The vase slid out of my shaking hands and broke with a loud bang. Michael’s head shot up, and his eyes were dark and calculating.

“Are you awake already?” His voice was silky, yet it gave me the creeps.

I staggered back.

“Don’t be scared,” he added in a quiet voice. “I only do this because I want you to love me forever.” Who else do you have at your age? You will need me. If you’re unwell, you won’t ever leave me.

The understanding hit me like a stone. His love was fake. The love, the kind words—everything was just a way to make me reliant so he could control me and empty me.
Emily got there by morning. My body had healed overnight, which was strange. Michael looked scared, like his ritual had failed.

I assured him firmly, “I know everything, Michael.”

Emily said she had already thought he was guilty. She had put a camera in the house, and after seeing his ritual, she traded the cursed doll and bowl for counter-charms. That’s why I was able to get my strength back.

We went right to the police. Michael was taken into custody for fraud and deception. My third marriage ended in betrayal, but I learned from it.

I realized that love should never be based on fear or blind devotion.