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After meeting someone who seemed to be a nice, religious man, who was single due to death, with adult children and some grandchildren, I thought it would be safe to visit and stay at the house. We lived a thousand miles apart. He said he had three bedrooms. Well, I get there, and the place has the same decor it had when she died seven years before! I looked at the Hummels and was told not to touch them as her fingerprints were still on them. The bedroom I was to occupy was the one she died in. He never told me she died in the house. Everything she owned was stuffed in the firetrap of a basement. He can not throw anything away! He was so cheap. We never went out to eat since he "can cooked just as good' as any restaurant. He had no friends except for a few golf buddies. I was not allowed to meet them as they may think he has a "woman"! The kicker was that he was a closet pervert. He looked at porn daily. All he could talk about was boobs and how he loved them. He told me every intimate detail of his sex life with his dead wife. He even walked around nude all the time. He had bottles of Viagra ready for us. After two days, I told him I am out of here and telling all to his children. He proclaimed, "No one will believe you as they think I am sainted.” I said, “They won't when I go to the church and tell.” He followed me as I packed to be sure I didn’t take anything. I left, and he followed me to be sure I did not go to the church, to the police, or anyplace but the road out of town! Never again! -- Roxanne, 54