Bells & Drink Stirrers, Or Things That Make Laugh

There have not been a lot of things concerning this horrible situation that have made me laugh out loud.  Up until now the only thing that continues to delight me was his huge offense at me placing bells on the door.  Hell, the man is a fucking ninja.  I never know when he’s here.  I told my mom one day that I needed to hang a bell around his neck like a cat, and that evolved into putting bells on the door.  He HATES it.  I find it absurd.  But every time I read that text from him where he’s complaining that the door is always locked behind him and now there are bells on the door for some reason it makes me laugh.  Out of everything that has gone on he’s worried about bells?  Not about his kids who he’s devastated.  Not me who he has betrayed.  No, he’s worried about himself and the fact that there are bells on the door to announce his arrival and departure.  I have thought about having some fun with this and putting bells all over the doors in the house.  Really freak him out.  I’m also thinking of investing in some of those magnetic strips to place on the door that will chime every time the door is opened.  That would really piss him off.

Anyway, it turns out we still have dozens and dozens of drink stirrers from our wedding 21 years ago.  They have a little bride and groom at the top and our names printed on them along with our wedding date.  My mom asked me, quite seriously, if I wanted her to throw them out.  I told her it didn’t really matter to me as I still had mine.  She replied that she didn’t want to bring up bad memories when we were all home for the holidays.  I jokingly tell her, “You could take a Sharpie and cross out his name,” followed by a bunch of laughing faces.  A few days later I’m talking to her on the phone and she says:  Yeah, your brother didn’t understand why I had to cross CF’s name out on all the drink stirrers.”  I actually belly laughed.  I couldn’t believe she really did it.  I was just joking but my mom was stone cold serious!  When I was home for the holidays I had to laugh every time I came across one and saw his name crossed out with a Sharpie.

I Think Therefore I Am


You know, sometimes I can’t believe he has turned out to be such a turd.  Such a worthless, cowardly turd.  I never would have expected him to cheat in a million years.  Even with what he did two years ago.  Despite the fact that I was shell shocked that he had even had a texting/sexting relationship with someone else.  I found that hard to believe, and yet he did it.  It supposedly never got physical.  I guess I believed he got caught up in some kind of fairy tale romance but stopped it before there was any actual sex.  Reality is it simply wasn’t convenient.  Only morons choose mistresses that live over a thousand miles away.  It really does make it more difficult to meet up when you have to buy a plane ticket in order to go fuck your whore.  Then again only those who are really really REALLY stupid agree to move closer to the so called “former” mistress.  Yes, I certainly made it much more convenient for him this time around.  Now he can work all week and live in our house, and then pack his bag and take off to her house each and every weekend (save two, if we’re going to be accurate).

He graduated from, let’s call it East Dull, where they pound honor and duty into their heads.  His mom and sister both thought no woman would ever want him and were so happy that he found someone.  I was regaled with tales of how he read encyclopedias on the weekends instead of going out, how socially awkward he was.  He himself said he didn’t take hints very well and that he didn’t do well in social situations.  Our own daughter used to tell me often, “Mom, if you ever leave Dad he’s going to be alone for the rest of his life.”  His mom told me once that when he first got out of the army he didn’t know if they were going to honor his non-active duty status and he might have to pay back all of his tuition for East Dull.  He was crying and telling her he would never be able to get married and have a family.  His mom also told me he had once told her that if he found a wife who would just have his dinner ready for him every night he’d give her the world.  Lies!

I thought I chose a good one.  I thought wrong.

A Random Rant


I’ve been watching House Hunters and International House Hunters.  I am always amazed by the people they profile.  Maybe they are looking for people who are a pain in the ass or a cry baby.  I don’t know.  But it always cracks me up when you see these people who have a small budget and want the world.  What’s that they call it?  Champagne tastes on a beer budget?

You get the real estate agents who tell them they are not going to get everything they want on their budget but these people still insist.  Listen!  You are looking for a house for the first time.  Or perhaps you are looking for an apartment in a completely different country.  I would be willing to bet the real estate agent knows the market just a tiny bit better than you!  I love the guy on Property Brothers because he takes the clients out to a house that has everything on their wish list.  Once they’re done ooh’ing and ah’ing over the perfect home he drops the list price on them.  It is always way out of their reach.

You have the Americans who are relocating overseas and they want all of the American amenities with the cultural charm of their current city.  I’ve never lived overseas; I have however heard from quite a few people who have, whether they’re Americans who have relocated or simply citizens of another country.  We’re gaudy over here.  We have McMansions and lots and lots of space.  I watched one episode and the people had no idea that most of the apartments didn’t have closets.  They typically also did not have lights, unless it was the bathroom and kitchen, which I didn’t know either.  We’re a relatively new country compared to others.  You move to Europe you’re looking at buildings that are hundreds of years old!  We just don’t have that.  Plus, all the excess storage so many of our homes have.  Dishwashers, washing machines… not to say that there are no houses in other countries with those appliances, but in some countries it is not a given.

And then you have the people who are buying houses here in the USA.  Some of the things they look for are ridiculous, and their comments border on insanity.

I’ve bought a lot of houses.  These are things I’ve discovered.

  1. Paint is fairly cheap and the results are pretty much instantaneous. Hell, I painted an entire room with a tiny trim roller while waiting for the power paint brush to get fixed.  It took a little longer, but it did get done!  If you don’t like the ugly brown walls, paint them!  The owner will not be offended; they won’t even know you’ve done it.  If you’re not a fan of drab beige or white, paint them!
  2. If you don’t like the couch or the comforter on the bed, good news!  The owners will be taking those things with them!
  3. Typically you are going to find a lot of similar things in your budget.  It’s not like one house in your budget is going to have formica countertops, tiny bedrooms, and outdated bathrooms while the next house ALSO IN YOUR BUDGET has granite countertops, huge bedrooms, and bathrooms with a walk in shower and Jacuzzi tub.  Sure, you may luck out and get a huge master bedroom in one house while the others have regular size bedrooms.  Or maybe one of the bathrooms has been spectacularly redone, but generally, it’s going to be a wash.  The difference is going to be in the floor plans most likely.
  4. It is very rare that you will ever find a house that is absolutely perfect.  I’ve had houses that I’ve really loved, but even those weren’t perfect.  In probably my favorite house ever the master bedroom was so small we couldn’t even fit all of our bedroom furniture in the room.  But the rest of the house was amazing.
  5. And Jeez Louise!  If you’re moving to the Virgin Islands take the damn house with the million dollar views and swimming pool over the stupid condo!  If I’m moving thousands of miles away from home I’m not downsizing from a 4000 square foot house into a 1400 square foot condo.  Especially one with no view and no charm (from what I could see).

Let’s All Praise Jesus- Harley is Happy!


I don’t do a lot of pain shopping anymore.  I did the first time around.  I was obsessed.  I told myself I was keeping an eye on her so I would be prepared. And to a certain extent I think that was true.  I questioned why she would be praying for my husband when he was hospitalized.  I wondered why she suddenly had such a philanthropic bent towards soldiers with PTSD.  But it didn’t fully prepare me.  And honestly, a lot of it was because she was so stupid with the shit she would say.  It was easy to make fun of her.  Hell, it’s still easy to make fun of her.  But for some reason, this time around when I found out I was just done.  I don’t give a shit what she’s doing or what she’s posting or how her “wonderful, blessed” life is playing out.  I know she’s a lying, deceitful, manipulative, white trash whore.  According to her own husband they’re still sleeping together.  I say, “Ha ha, Cousinfucker.  What did you expect?”  I knew he wasn’t her first rodeo.  Hell, I knew he wasn’t going to be her last rodeo!  And if someone had asked me to place a bet I would bet he wasn’t going to be her *only* rodeo.  So there!

Anyway, back to pain shopping.  For those of you who don’t know what that is it refers to looking for/at things that are going to hurt you or bring you pain.  I originally thought it was actual shopping done out of anger and hurt.  I was so wrong.  It’s looking for shit that is going to bring you pain.  Interacting with the OW.  Sending emails or texts.  Confronting her.  Looking up the OW’s Facebook page, Twitter feed, Instagram, Pinterest… whatever you may have access to.  I guess you could even add on mutual friend’s accounts as well, if those pages/feeds are going to give you ammunition with which you will hurt yourself.  None of that for me anymore.  Or at least not much.  I’m human; I get curious.

I think it was around Thanksgiving.  I wanted to see if she had given me any more ammunition for my divorce hearing (or so I told myself).  The answer was no, she hadn’t, although she did have a new profile picture up and I got to see all of my former in-laws gushing all over the whore.  “You’re so pretty!”  “You’re beautiful!”  “You can suck a golf ball through a garden hose!”  OK, that last one wasn’t on there.  That was me being mean.  My STBX-MIL tells her that she just keeps looking better and better.  That’s funny because my daughter says she looks about 50 (no offense to those of you who are 50; my daughter is 15 and thinks anyone over the age of 20 is old) even though she’s actually younger than I am and she’s constantly saying how ugly she thinks her father’s mistress is.  Maybe it’s because my daughter sees her personality and that plays a large part.  Regardless, after my STBX-MIL gushes all over this waste of human skin she replies back that it’s because she’s happy.

Oh joy!  Harley is happy!  Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief now, can’t we?  The whore is happy!  Apparently she is happy with a part time lover, a man who lives hours away from her and can’t spend the day to day with her.  She’s happy fucking a married man, knowing without a doubt that he is married and has kids.  She’s happy despite the fact that the supposed love of her life has no relationship with his kids and they hate him due to this happiness inducing relationship.  That doesn’t bother her.  She’s happy spending weekends only with this piece of shit and watching him drive back to his wife, his kids, his home.  Perhaps that is part of the allure:  They get to keep the fantasy alive because he’s NOT there day in and day out.  She doesn’t have to do his laundry, make his dinner, put up with his mood swings.  And he doesn’t have to help with the day to day chores of taking care of FOUR kids.  Hell, he couldn’t manage two and they were his.  It’s all sex and “I’m so happy to see you!”  Yeah, because you only have to deal with him on a very limited basis.  Plus, you’re fucking other men.  Yes, Harley is happy.  Happy, happy, happy with this whole fucked up arrangement.

Hey, do you wanna know who isn’t happy, Harley?  Not that you care, of course, you flaming turd shot straight out of Satan’s ass (again, thank you Chump Princess, commenter from Chump Lady).  Your lover’s kids aren’t happy.  Yeah, you heard me.  They’re not happy.  I know you don’t give a shit about them.  Asking CF how he thought you would all get along was about as far as your concern extended, and when you realized, you pus sucking whore, that my kids would have NOTHING to do with you, you wrote them off.  More for you.  More for your kids, the ones who take money that should be going to my kids, and then trash talk him behind his back.  You couldn’t care less about my kids and what you and Daddy Dearest took from them.  My daughter was on track to be a college gymnast and her father killed those dreams with his (and your) selfish desire to get us across the country.  My son had to abandon the only sport he really loved along with playing the cello, also something he really loved.  Again, so dear daddy could get in your pants more easily. Do you want to know who else isn’t happy?  Me!  I’m not happy.  I’m not happy that my selfish, entitled, PTSD-faking waste of oxygen couldn’t sack up two years ago and leave with your lying, slutty ass and instead chose to lie and deceive and systematically dismantle my life and those of my children.  Here are some more people who aren’t happy:  My mother, my brother (who incidentally loved CF like his own brother), my sister-in-law, my nieces, my nephews, my friends from Utah who are beyond pissed that he moved us all away only to abandon us, my high school besties, my mom’s friends, our neighbors, the kids’ teachers…. I could go on and on.

Oh, but YOU are happy.  Yes, that is the most important thing.  Never mind that YOUR happiness came at our expense.  Never mind that despite how happy you supposedly are you’re still screwing your husband (according to him, of course).  I’m sure your children are all happy, too.  Then again, my husband is throwing boatloads of money at you and at them, buying them anything and everything they want, while neglecting his own children.  Your kids don’t have to worry about moving or changing schools.  Your daughter isn’t going to have to worry about attending her senior year at a different high school.  I’m sure your daughter isn’t having anxiety attacks all the time and none of your sons are crying because they hate where they live, thanks to my husband and the two of you conspiring.  Oh, no!  Things are all coming up roses for you and your bunch!  It’s only me and my children who are paying the price for your happiness.  Yes, you see, Cousinfucker can buy an expensive purebred dog for your four kids while he couldn’t be bothered to give me enough money to pay for dog food and cat food for the pets we already have.  He can’t seem to come up with $80-$100 for a Homecoming dress for his own daughter and yet he can somehow spend over $300 on a dress for your daughter.  Interesting.

Yes, it’s very interesting how you and everyone in his fucked up family concentrate solely on his and possibly your happiness while ignoring everything else around them.  No one can seem to put two and two together and rationalize that, “Hey, maybe that’s the reason his kids are pissed, and Sam has nothing to do with it!”  You are such a disgusting, gold-digging piece of white trash that you don’t even care that your “happiness” is being achieved at the expense of your lover’s children.  Of course you don’t; you’re out to get everything you can.  Hey, I guess if he doesn’t care about them, why should you, huh?

In the spirit of the not so distant Christmas season I have this wish for you, Harley:  May you get EVERYTHING you so richly deserve.  And Cousinfucker, may you, too, get EVERYTHING you so richly deserve.  Much HAPPINESS to you both!

Life Is Too Short to be an Asshole!

Life is too short to be unhappy.  May I offer a counter to that?  Life is too short to be an asshole!

My STBX-SIL, Jezebel, had a quote on her Facebook once that read: “If you are trapped between your feelings and what other people think is right, always go for whatever makes you happy. Unless you want everybody to be happy except you.”
— anonymous

I said two years ago and I still say today, “What a load of bullshit!”

CF:  Gosh, I feel like Harley will make me happy but other people might think cheating on my wife is wrong.

STBX-SIL:  Oh, don’t you worry about that!  You need to do what makes YOU happy!  You deserve it.

No, he deserves a 2×4 upside his head for being such an asshole!  You don’t move your wife and kids across the country and THEN decide your happiness resides with some white trash whore!

Is this really what we want to teach our kids?

“Hey, Junior, I see you found a wallet stuffed full of $100 bills.  What do you say we turn this into the lost and found?”

“Hmmm…. nah.  That wouldn’t make me happy.  I’d rather spend it.  You see, I felt really happy finding all this money and thinking about all the video games and iTunes and other teenage crap I might want to buy.  The thought of returning it makes me decidedly UNhappy.  So, I’m going to keep it.  Because if I’m trapped between my feelings and what other people think is right I should always go for what makes me happy.”

“You know, son, that is true.  Who can argue with that logic?  Who cares if this person probably just cashed his paycheck and this is all the money he has for the next two weeks to pay rent, buy groceries, support his kids, etc.  All that matters is that YOU are happy!”

If that’s your reaction then pat yourself on the back for you have done a bang up job as a parent!  Not!

We could do this on many topics.  Your kid doesn’t like another kid and teasing him or her mercilessly makes your kid happy?  Do it!  If it makes you happy then it can’t be wrong (and if it is, who cares?  Your happiness is the only thing that matters!).  If doing homework, or going to school or brushing teeth makes your child/children unhappy then by golly, you just let them follow their bliss to rotten teeth and Fs in school.  Far better for them to be happy than well educated with a mouthful of their own teeth. You want to take a cruise or go on some luxury vacation instead of paying your mortgage and buying groceries?  Will that make you happy?  Then DO IT!  You take that mortgage payment and you go have the time of your life for a week or two.  You owe it to yourself.  Life is too short to forego vacations for pesky things like mortgages and utilities. Your sibling starts up an affair with someone who is married and has children?  Who are you to judge?  Support them because if they are happy who cares how the betrayed spouse and kids feel!  They’ll get their happiness soon enough.  Your daughter thinks dancing on a pole at a strip club will make her happy?  Buy stock in that club!  Support your baby girl’s dreams because, again, if it makes her happy, what could possibly be wrong with it?  Your son wants to become a male escort and take middle aged women for all their money?  Hey, who are you to say that’s wrong?  If he’s HAPPY then you must support him!  Do your kids want to do/make/sell drugs?  Take a car out for a joyride?  Knock off a liquor store for extra cash?  Torture kittens and puppies?  Kidnap and imprison women for dozens of years?  LET THEM!  They have a right to be happy!  Don’t be so damn judgmental!  You are harshing their buzz!  It takes a very enlightened person to follow their bliss instead of doing the right thing.

I will once again direct you to Ralph Waldo Emerson’s quote:

The purpose of life is not to be happy.  It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.

I’m going to toot my own horn here.  Up until we moved this last time I was very involved in various activities.  I was active in my church when we lived in Michigan.  I volunteered in the nursery for a while one Sunday a month and as my youngest aged I moved up with him.  Eventually I was volunteering in the children’s church every Sunday.  I joined the Meal Team and helped prepare the meals whenever there was a big study program.  I even became a small group leader.  I joined a MOPS group at another church where my daughter went to preschool.  I volunteered to be on the Hospitality team and helped provide breakfast twice a month.  Eventually I helped to charter a MOPS group at my own church which was a huge undertaking.  As far as I know that MOPS group still exists today, some ten years later; I’m not there but it is.  I volunteered at my daughter’s school.  I volunteered at my son’s preschool and served on the board.  And once we moved to Utah I got involved in PTA, serving on 3 different boards at once there towards the end.  I volunteered in the kids’ classrooms. I volunteered as team mom for hockey and helped with gymnastics meets.  I gave my time.  I got involved.  I helped.  I nurtured.  I volunteered.  I didn’t look to vacations, pretty jewelry, new cars, fancy gadgets and new love to give my life meaning.  I poured my heart and soul into my children, my family, my volunteering; I enjoyed serving others and making their lives easier.  There were many times I wondered if this was all there was, but I continued on.  I made the best of my circumstances despite my husband’s reluctance to join us.  I was, if not happy, then content.  I had a purpose.  I had a function.  To tie it into Emerson’s quote I was useful, compassionate, and made some difference that I lived.

I don’t think STBX or anyone in his family understands that.  It’s all about the elusive happiness.  If you’re not happy with one person then move onto the next for surely you will be happy then.  My STBX-SIL is incredibly happy with her life right now.  It’s all about trips and adventures and new love and what everyone in her life is buying for her.  It’s about her new husband showering her with gifts and attention.  It’s about reinventing herself once again.  But you rarely hear about her doing anything for him or those in her orbit.  It’s all about her.  Look how much everybody loves me and thinks I’m wonderful!  Look at everything they do for me!  Even the one thing that she does, which is singing, is more about her and the attention she receives, than serving anyone else.  That’s why, when her father-in-law whom she had known for all of approximately 2 years at the time, was in the hospital she was able to go be with him for two weeks.  He lives in a state she loves to visit.  She has snowed her in-laws and they shower her with trinkets and tickets and lots of fun stuff.  When her brother, whom she has known for over forty years, was hospitalized, she couldn’t manage to find time to come visit him.  If you could see me, you would see that this is my shocked face!  We don’t live in a state she loves to visit, and since she had been begging him to leave me the chances that I would be trying to win her over with trips, trinkets, and toys was nil.

CF, I’m sure, is doing the rounds of, “I hadn’t been happy in years.”  What did he ever do to try to make himself happy?  Locking yourself in your bedroom and watching television all night long is not going to bring about any huge change in your life.  You’re not full of purpose.  Meanwhile, I did everything I could to make him happy but it was never enough.  I knew years ago that I could never make him happy; it has to come from within and he just doesn’t have that ability.  He told me once that he’s afraid to let himself be too happy because nothing has ever gone right in his life and he’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Oh, sure, he thinks he’s happy now.  He’s got his shiny new whore and her four kids who pay homage to him.  He’s the king!  He’s bringing shiny, new toys into their lives and making sure they want for nothing.  But at some point he’ll start looking around, waiting for that shoe to fall.  According to my source, while the kids tell him to his face how wonderful he is they talk crap about him behind his back.  And Harley?  Well, rumor has it she’s still sleeping with her husband.  The funniest part of all of this?  Those people have never seen him at his worse.  She’s cheating on the good version of him!  They haven’t had to deal with his moods, his “issues”, his reluctance to do anything as a family.  No, he’s on his best behavior.  He’s throwing money around and acting like Father (and Husband) of the Year.  As an added bonus, since he’s not with them every day it’s fairly easy, I would imagine, to keep that mask in place.

I came across an article in The Atlantic online, entitled, “There’s More to Life Than Being Happy”.  It’s from January 9, 2013 and it centers around Viktor Frankl, who was a concentration camp survivor and who wrote the book, Man’s Search for Meaning, and a new study which was coming out in the Journal of Positive Psychology, later that year (2013).  The study was regarding people who were asked if they thought their lives were meaningful and/or happy, and examining the factors that led to their happiness and/or meaningful lives.

It was a very interesting article and I couldn’t help but think of CF and his family when I read it.  Frankl’s viewpoint is this:  It is the very pursuit of happiness that thwarts happiness.

This makes perfect sense if you think about the quest for happiness as a drug.  We search for that elusive happiness, that trinket, that relationship, that experience, that is supposed to make us happy.  And it does.  For a while.  And then we crave more.  That’s why they say happiness is fleeting.  In another article I read almost a year ago that dealt with gratitude a researcher talked about how we all like newness.  Same deal as with happiness.  This new thing makes us happy.  But positive emotions wear off quickly so we need more newness.  By actually being GRATEFUL for what you have you keep those feelings of newness alive.  Gratitude was found to enhance positive emotions.  But too many people are focused on being happy instead of being grateful.  Or doing the right thing.  Or living a meaningful life.

Even more interesting was what the psychologists found regarding a happy life versus a meaningful one.  Leading a happy life is associated with being a “taker” while leading a meaningful life corresponds with being a “giver”.  Is anyone surprised?  The psychologists go on to say, “Happiness without meaning characterizes a relatively shallow, self-absorbed or even selfish life, in which things go well, needs and desire are easily satisfied, and difficult or taxing entanglements are avoided.”  Bingo!  Happiness is all about the good times.  Keep anything difficult or unpleasant out of the equation because then you might not be happy.  We need happiness at any cost.

Also not surprising is the fact that they found that happiness is all about feeling good.  Happy people tend to think that life is easy, they are in good physical health, they are able to buy the things they need and want.  They found that the lack of money decreases how happy and meaningful people rated their lives, and they also found that lack of money had a much greater impact on happiness.  Color me surprised!

Probably the most important thing they discovered is that the pursuit of happiness is associated with selfish behavior.  Ah yes, that taker vs. giver issue.

One of the authors of the study put it this way:  Happy people get a lot of joy from receiving benefits from others while people leading meaningful lives get a lot of joy from giving to others.  Ah, so that explains why it is that cheaters are so damn selfish while proclaiming their “happiness”.  They are receiving benefits from other people.  They are taking.  They wouldn’t recognize profound and meaningful if it slapped them upside their meaty little heads.

Basically, what this article concludes is that this pursuit of happiness is bullshit.  Happiness is fleeting.  It can change on a dime.  It’s a hamster wheel.  Run, Forrest, run!  A meaningful life endures.  Happiness is the dessert- delicious and full of empty calories.  A meaningful life is the main course- substantive and full of the protein and fat that will get you through to the next meal

Why Didn’t You Take the Deal?

I’m a big fan of Criminal Minds.  Anyone else out there a fan?  Do you remember the first episode that had the Reaper in it?  They discover he made a deal with the sheriff or police chief, I’m not sure which.  If the chief stopped looking for him, he would stop killing.  Now, the chief is dying and the deal is going to end.  He tries to broker a new deal with Aaron Hotchner but Aaron won’t take it.  This ends badly.  Very, very badly ultimately because SPOILER ALERT eventually, many episodes later, he ends up killing Aaron’s wife.  But in this episode he ends up boarding a bus and slaughtering a group of innocent bus riders.  He calls Aaron and tells him, “You should have taken the deal!”  Or was that the cliffhanger when he confronts him in his apartment?  Anywho…

Now, I’m not about to go out and hunt down a bus full of innocents.  I do, however, sometimes wonder why STBX didn’t take his out when he first had the chance.  Why didn’t he take the deal?  Two and a half years ago I caught him in an emotional affair and demanded he choose between the two of us.  If you want her, go to her, but I will not be your safety net.

Her answer is, of course, he couldn’t liquidate his assets quickly enough, so he stayed with me (and dumped her).  Oh, you stupid, stupid little bitch.  Do you not realize it doesn’t matter how quickly he can liquidate assets because they are already marital property?  He can spend every dime but he still has to cough up half to give to me.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t had time to move us across the country and he figured I would be willing to stay put if he left.  Hell, maybe he was going to leave but she chickened out at the last minute.  I don’t know.  I suppose it’s not important.  I just keep thinking (well, not really; occasionally it pops into my mind) about how he told me he was ready to hop in his car and come get me and the kids if I didn’t return home from my mom’s house.  If you recall, my stepdad died days before I made my discovery.  We had already purchased airline tickets to go out for the funeral.

He could have left then.  He had the perfect opportunity.  Instead he told me he didn’t want to lose any of us.

A few months later I find out about his plans to marry her.  Again, he could have left but he chose not to.  Hell, he wanted to renew our wedding vows!

A year and a half ago we were moving across the country.  The house was sold, bought out by his company, a sure thing.  Things were looking rocky between her and her husband.  He could have got out then.  Said, “Sam, I think it’s best if you and the kids don’t come on out here with me.  I’m in love with Harley and despite our best efforts I don’t think we’re ever going to be able to put our marriage back together.  The house is sold.  Let’s split the proceeds and start the divorce proceedings.”  But no!  We buy an even more expensive house, fill it with new furniture, get a new car, put a pool in the backyard… He systematically dismantled my life and the lives of my children in order to get us out here.  He could have been free but he chose to keep himself entangled.  Why?  Why didn’t he “take the deal”?

I realize I’m trying to understand that which cannot be understood.  I’m trying to explain that which cannot be explained.

It’s just that I look back sometimes and I think, “WTF were you thinking?  Why?  Why did you do half of this shit?”  He could have stopped construction on the pool.  He could easily have said, “Sam, I’m not willing to get a loan.  I think we should wait until next summer.”   Or, when we found out that excavating the rocks was going to cost another $11,000 he could have said, “Sam, that is way too much money!  We budgeted x amount and now you’re telling me it’s going to be y amount.  We don’t have it.”   BAM!  $57,000 saved!  No, instead he says, “This better be worth it!”  He reignited his affair with his whore of a cousin as he watched the construction all summer long.  Even sent me pictures. How fucked up do you have to be to do that?  Or even better, once the affair was already underway I asked him how much stock we had to sell because I was getting worried about the cost; whatever wasn’t covered by cashing in stock was going to have to come out of savings.  He assured me we had plenty.  I told him in that case I was going to go with the more expensive stamped concrete.  He never said a word!  Hey, asshole, that might have been a great time to say something like, “Sam, the other stuff is fine.  Let’s not spend anymore than we have to.”  But no!  Carry on with your whore while we spend a few thousand more.

Our cats died last year.  My daughter begged me to let her take home a stray.  He could have put his foot down.  No more cats!  He didn’t.  This was much earlier in the year so perhaps he wasn’t cavorting with Harley at the time.  But I’m pretty sure they had established contact by the time Memorial Day rolled around and she wanted to bring home a kitten.  I told him about it.  He could have said, “No more cats!  This is crazy!”  But no, he just let it happen.

Of course, when you’re willing to walk away from all of it and leave your betrayed spouse to pick up all the pieces and take care of everything I suppose you don’t really care what happens.  It sure would have been nice to have that extra money, though, instead of sinking it into a hole in the ground.  Hey, Cousinfucker, most people don’t put a fucking pool in their backyard only to move a year later.  It’s not really profitable.  Dumbass!

The only thing I can think of that makes sense is that he had his own very personal time table and he didn’t want to show his hand.  If that cost him a bunch of extra money… oh well.  I suppose it was worth it to him.  Me?  Well, I sure as hell wish he had “taken the deal” and gotten the fuck out of our lives before all of this went down!

You Kept Him Sane For Twenty Years

I have always loved the irony of his sister declaring that he deserved better than me.  Yes, I was wrong and crazy and she was so sorry he was so miserable.  She begged him to leave me.  Begged him!

Let’s see- he has been a fairly shitty father and partner.  He’s been more interested in watching television than in participating in our lives.  He sucks all of the oxygen out of the room with HIS needs and all others can go fuck themselves.  He’s got “anxiety issues” and “PTSD” and “social anxiety”.  Oh hey, let’s add excessive drinking to the list now.

I spent holidays alone.  I made cross country trips with the kids all by myself.  I took our kids to see his side of the family. I took care of 99% of anything having to do with the kids- school drop offs and pick ups, extracurriculars drop offs and pick ups, conferences, homework, signing papers and logs, writing checks for lunch money and pictures.  You name it, I did it. I fixed his plate for him every night.  I made breakfast every weekend, or at the very least I would run out to get something.  The few times I would go out with friends I made dinner for him or picked something up for him instead of making him fend for himself and the kids.  I did his laundry. I hung his damn clothes up and put the rest of them away.  I shopped for clothes for him.  I made his doctor’s appointments, psychiatrist appointments, therapy appointments, and went to them with him.  I picked up his prescriptions.  I took in his dry cleaning.  I spent countless hours in the hospital with him because, you know, every illness was a major disaster.  I moved all over this country for him, supporting him in his career.  I was his biggest cheerleader.  Did I forget something?  Oh yes!  He CHEATED ON ME WITH HIS COUSIN!

But somehow he deserves better.  I am the one doing him wrong.  Perhaps I didn’t put his food on his favorite plate.  Perhaps I didn’t use the laundry detergent he preferred.  Hell, I suppose my biggest fault was that I simply did not and would not pretend that he hadn’t done what he did!  How DARE I not forget his “little” emotional affair?  How dare I continue to be hurt by the fact that his entire family was stabbing me in the back?  How dare I?

This is the funny part.  After twenty years with this guy I had come to believe I owned part of this, that perhaps there was something I could have done differently.  Currently, there have been many times I wondered if there were things I could have done differently (like not moving my ass across the country for him this last time!).  But as a wise, dear old friend pointed out to me, “Listen, I think a lot of what he says is bullshit.  I think he was messed up long before you came along.  You just kept him sane for 20 years.  Hat’s off to you!  Most wouldn’t have stuck around.  You should be proud of yourself.  Not blaming yourself.”  Hell, my own daughter has said, “Kudos to you, Mom; I don’t know how you put up with him as long as you did. I’d have left him long ago!”

Yes, let’s see how long dear sister and enabling mommy and his gold digging whore manage to keep him sane now that I’m no longer in the picture.

Done With the Guilt!

I’ve continued to think about this guilt I feel and you know what?  Part of it is because he has laid it at my feet!  His words in that text to me:  I read everything you wrote on your fake Facebook page.  We’re not good together.

It’s YOUR fault.  If you didn’t write anything and could have just shut up and focused on the future then this wouldn’t be happening!  It’s all your fault!

Well, fuck that!  I’m entitled to be upset about the fact that you were making life plans with another woman.  A woman who was your cousin, you sick fuck!  I’m entitled to be upset that your entire family is fucked up and stayed in contact with her, knowing what a deceitful, manipulative whore she was.  I was entitled to keep an eye on that no good white trash piece of shit.  I did nothing wrong.  Nothing I did excuses him and his behavior.

Screw the guilt!

Facebook & TiVo- The Beginning of the End

I remember reading a Sidney Sheldon novel years ago.  I don’t remember the title but it dealt with three women who were all in medical school.  One of them had a brother who was working for the Mob and she became sort of a Mob doctor to pay his debt.  Anyway, that’s not the important part.  This is:  One of the male doctors was a real player and one of the three main characters was a very straight shooter.  There was a bet going on about whether or not the cad doctor could bed the good doctor.  The three female med students made some kind of a bet and the line at the end of the chapter was something like:  They didn’t realize it but they had just signed the death certificate for one of them.

Obviously, this has stuck with me.  It’s been well over 25 years since I read the book.  But that line comes up sometimes when you start to put two and two together and realize <here> was the moment it fell apart (or came together, if you are feeling positive).  For me, TiVo and Facebook were the precursors to the death certificate for my marriage.

Let’s begin with the seemingly benign TiVo.  I bought it for my husband one year for Christmas.  Couldn’t even tell you exactly when except that it was sometime after 2002 and before 2006.  Lost was airing, if that helps.  He loved it!  Loved being able to skip the commercials.  Loved being able to record things that he would miss otherwise.  Loved, loved, loved it.  As far as gifts go, it was a good one if the recipient’s joy is the only measure of a good gift. In looking back, however, I can see that it was the beginning of the end.

You see, when he got TiVo, television became more important than the family.  We used to eat together, even if we watched tv while doing so.  Once he got TiVo he ate his meals downstairs in the finished basement.  I would bring the kids downstairs to see him (and they were at most preschool and toddler age), perhaps even try to eat with him, but he would complain about how he couldn’t watch his shows because of the kids and the noise they made.  Shocker- toddlers and preschoolers make noise!  I remember several times he would pause the tv, look at me and say, “I’ve been trying to watch the last five minutes of this show for the last twenty minutes.  Do you think you can take them upstairs so I can finish this?”  Of course, Your Majesty!  Care for a quick blow job before I head upstairs?

The kids and I began to live our life on the main level, more and more, while he lived his life, alone, in the basement.  He even took to sleeping in the guest room downstairs so that I could have the queen sized bed with the kids, instead of continuing to sleep on a twin sized mattress and a trundle bed.  He slept down there, showered down there, took his meals down there (remember, I would fix his plate and bring it to him every night!), and lived his life down there, i.e. watched tv.

I cooked and cleaned and watched and interacted with the kids.  I fed them; I bathed them.  I got them ready for bed and I got them ready for preschool.  I didn’t watch any television until the kids were asleep because I didn’t have TiVo; I knew I would end up missing half of what was being said if I tried watching anything while they were awake.  My TV viewing didn’t begin until around 9:30.

In other words, I lived life with my kids while he was stuck in front of a TV.  I didn’t have a partner.  My kids didn’t have a father.  We had a live in roommate.  I did the adult stuff, the parent stuff, and he did whatever he wanted.  He says we grew apart after having kids.  I say, “Hell ya, we did!  He never grew up.  He just wanted to be one more person I took care of, instead of him stepping up and being an actual partner to me and helping out with the kids.”  To be fair (and I am nothing if not fair!) once I got our son ready for bed, Cousinfucker would rock him to sleep.

Things weren’t any better when we moved.  Instead of him hanging out in the basement, though, he now hung out in his bedroom.  He would come home, say hello and then head to the bedroom where he sat in the bed and watched television all night long.  I again brought him his damn dinner.  Even went in and collected his plate some nights, although to be fair, most nights he would venture out of the bedroom to put his plate in the sink. He did have a brief period where he would play on the Wii out in the living room, but then again, any time he showed any initiative he would get pissed if we didn’t immediately kiss his ass and thank him for his efforts.

This is how we lived.  And of course, by now we have Dish so we both had a DVR!  But again, I was out in the living room.  I was with the kids.  I was present.  I was running them to activities.  I was volunteering.  I watched a whole lot of Disney and Nickelodeon in my day!  Occasionally he would call one or all of us into the bedroom because there was something he wanted us to see, but then we were usually promptly dismissed, especially if the gathering ended up with us *talking* or *laughing*!

It’s hard to connect with someone who has made television his whole life, someone who has decided he’s going to live out his life in the bedroom.  But feel free to blame me and let me know how this is all my fault.  Because that’s his story.

Now, as if all of this isn’t bad enough along comes Facebook. I will preface this by saying there are an awful lot of good things about Facebook.  I have moved many times over the course of my life and it’s so nice to be able to stay in contact with people that I’ve met over the years.  I love seeing all the kids as they’ve grown.  I love seeing the baby pictures and the wedding announcements and all the achievements of my friends and of their kids.  I like the high school graduations and the kindergarten graduations and the puppy school graduations.  I like it all.  But as they taught us on The Facts of Life:  You take the good, you take the bad…  Facebook can be an amoral cesspool of infidelity.  This was my “She had unknowingly signed her own death certificate!”  Only in my case it was, “She had no way of knowing she had just led to the demise of her own marriage!”  For you see, it was I who created a Facebook page for my husband.  He didn’t want one, saw no need for one.  Who would be his friend?  I thought it would be funny to create one for him, propel him into the current century.  Oh, it was hilarious!  It didn’t take long for skanky ol’ Harley to become his “friend”.  Yes, I remember sitting there at Thanksgiving creating the page for him and by April, a mere five months later, they were “in luuuuurrrrrvvvvveeee!”  Ah yes, Little Miss My-Marriage-Isn’t-So-Rosy met up with Mr. I’m-Just-A-Handyman-And-A-Paycheck and it was a match made in Facebook hell.  All those furtive messages, longing to be together, knowing that only the two of them understood one another, the private agony they had both endured in their loveless, non-rosy marriages.  Ah, it was one soliloquy shy of Romeo and Juliet.  Facebook led to texting and texting led to sexting and that all led to phone calls and naked pictures and dreams of a life together.  Funny thing, they never counted on outraged children or spousal support.  Affairs are funny like that.

I got rid of her the first time.  Maybe I should have let her have him then.  It would have saved me and my kids some heartache.  I wouldn’t be living where I’m living.  I’d still be surrounded by a large network of support.  Nonetheless, the facts are the facts.  I got rid of her.  He supposedly chose me and our family.  But Facebook continued to let her have a ringside seat into our lives.  Thanks to everyone in his stupid family who didn’t see what the harm was in continuing a relationship with her she was able to observe us and swoop in.  Hell, his mother was the one who encouraged her to do so.  “He’s so sad!  Why don’t you get down on your knees and give him a nice blow job and make him feel all better!”  OK, quick disclaimer here.  I don’t know that she encouraged a blow job.  That’s entirely made up.  But, she did encourage the whore to call him.  Because he was so sad!  Because his wife (that’s me!) hadn’t completely forgotten about the events that had happened less than two years ago where he had betrayed her with a white trash whore. Because I hadn’t killed all those thoughts and buried them deep where no one could see them.  Because I still wondered and reflected on occasion.  Because I could still be triggered by certain events and names.  And because I still had a hard time forgiving his family for their support of Harley.  However, I had forgiven him.  I had stood by him.  I had fought for him and our marriage.  I had moved across the damn country for HIM and his dreams.  And once I was away from my entire support system and completely dependent on him, I got to deal with all of his issues- his supposed PTSD, his supposed anxiety, his supposed social issues that were magically reappearing, his driving issues.  Oh, and his drinking.  That was a new one.  But what I hadn’t done was I hadn’t forgotten, and let me tell you, that apparently was a deal breaker and worthy of him cheating on me AGAIN.

I know better than to blame TiVo or Facebook for the demise of my marriage.  But I can certainly say they both contributed to its decline. And as far as Facebook goes I did pretty much sign my own divorce decree when I signed him up.  I’m not sure she ever would have been able to get ahold of him otherwise.  Then again, if he’s so easily led astray do I really want him?  No!

Announcing a Name Change


Ooooh, big news!  I know in the beginning I said I would refer to the whore simply as the whore; however, I have come up with a new name.  Oh, don’t worry.  I’ll still be referring to her as the whore most of the time, but I’ve decided to add the moniker, “Harley”, as well.

Why Harley?  I’m so glad you asked.  After I found out, several months after the initial D-Day discovery, that he was bragging about marrying the whore and that she was going to get a tattoo on her foot to symbolize their “true love” we had one final in-depth conversation about his affair.  He swore up and down that he never met up with her and told me, “I guess I must not have wanted to very badly.”  He also told me he talked to her like he wanted to talk to me, that he used her as a replacement for what he wanted with me.  He ended it by telling me he thought it was obviously some sort of mid-life crisis, that she was the worst mistake of his life and in the end, he should have just bought a motorcycle.  Have fun riding your Harley, CF.