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 YYY state 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!