If you see a man with one painted fingernail, here’s what it means

When Elliot Costello and a group of other people visited Cambodia, he had an encounter with a young girl named Thea.

Little did Elliot know that this encounter would have an impact so profound on him that it would help start a movement whose goal is to end sexual abuse against children.

Namely, Thea always had nail polish on her tiny nails. One day, as she and Elliot chatted, she asked to paint one of his nails. He agreed and was happy to speak to the chatty girl, but he then learned that she was once a victim of sexual abuse.

“As she painted one of my nails, I assured her I would always keep it that way to remember her, and by extension, her suffering,” Elliot said.

This motivated Elliot to try and make positive change among men so that less and less children fall victims of sexual abuse.

That is when he came up with the movement called #PolishedMan where men put nail polish on one of their nails. That one nail represents the one in five children who will be victims of sexual violence.

Polished Man works towards ending sexual violence against children. According to the organization, “being a Polished Man means challenging violent behavior and language, both locally and globally.”

Elliot believes that since men are responsible for 96% of this type of violence against children globally, they should be catalyst for change if we are ever to see an end to the abuse of innocent children.

The goal with the painted nail isn’t just to remind people of the number of children who are abused every single day, but to serve as a conversation starter about this reality, leading to new ideas about prevention. He also hopes that people will start donating to “support educational programs and resources for child survivors of abuse,” as per APlus.

We hope that more men, including celebrities would be willing to join this movement.

I Found My Husband Embracing Our New Neighbor and Was Shocked by the Resemblance of Her Son

My husband had been visiting our beautiful new neighbor quite often, helping with heavy boxes or fixing a lightbulb. One day, I couldn’t take it anymore and went over with some cookies, pretending to be a friendly neighbor. That’s when I saw a little boy… He was the spitting image of my husband!

I began noticing how often David helped our new neighbor, Lauren. At first, it seemed harmless—carrying boxes, fixing a broken door, simple things neighbors usually do. But as the days went by, his visits to her house became more frequent.

“Why do you keep going over there?” I asked him one night, my voice betrayed a hint of annoyance.

He shrugged, barely looking up from his phone.

“She just needs help with a few things. It’s no big deal, Sarah.”

“No big deal? You’ve been over there almost every day this week.”

David sighed, brushing me off with a wave of his hand.

“You’re overthinking this. She’s a single mom; she just needs some support. It’s nothing.”

He wouldn’t cheat on me, right? Not David. He’s just being kind, that’s all.

For a moment, I let it go, convincing myself that my husband couldn’t be doing anything wrong. But then came that afternoon, the one that changed everything.

I came home earlier than usual. As I walked up the driveway, I saw them.

David and Lauren were standing on her porch. They were close, too close. And then it happened. His arms wrapped around her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

What is he doing? Why is he holding her like that?

Suddenly, all those little doubts I had shoved aside came crashing down, louder than ever.

David, my David, was cheating.

The next morning, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to do something. Sitting there, watching David act like nothing was wrong, was driving me crazy.

I had to see Lauren myself. Maybe I was wrong, and there was some innocent explanation for all of this. But if there wasn’t, I needed to know.

I grabbed a box of cookies, hoping it would make me look friendly instead of nosy.

“Just a neighborly visit,” I told myself, walking across the street to Lauren’s house.

Lauren opened the door, looking surprised to see me.

“Oh, hi, Sarah!”

“Hi, Lauren,” I replied, holding up the cookies like a peace offering.

“I thought I’d bring these over. You know, just to say ‘welcome to the neighborhood.’”

“That’s so sweet of you. Come in.”

Lauren was still a bit shocked.

The house smelled faintly of fresh paint, and toys were scattered around the living room. As we made small talk, my eyes darted around, searching for any sign of David’s presence, anything that might confirm my worst fears. I could hardly focus on what Lauren was saying.

Suddenly, a small boy came running into the room, giggling. He couldn’t have been older than five. He had dark hair, the same shade as David’s, and those familiar brown eyes. My heart skipped a beat.

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“Max, say hi,” Lauren said, smiling at the boy.

Max waved shyly before running off to play. I stood there, frozen. That boy… he looked so much like David.

Could it be? Could Max be David’s son?

The resemblance was uncanny, and the thought that David might have a child with Lauren twisted my gut in ways I didn’t think were possible.

“Sarah, it’s Max’s birthday, and we’re having a little party. Nothing too big, just a few friends, cake, you know. Come with David. It will be fun!”

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