I swear he is the saddest of the sad sausages. I’m dealing with a child who will soon have her actual driver’s license, one that will entitle her to get in a car and drive with no adult present. She has been told for years that when she’s ready to drive she will get her dad’s car and he would buy a beater truck, which for some reason, was his dream. Then reality punched us in the face. Her dad fucked his cousin, we’re living on 66% of what we used to have while I pay 100% of the bills, and he refuses to contribute a single penny above what he is court ordered to pay. He’s a real Prince Charming and an excellent father according to the whore. As I’ve said before I believe the person to bestow “excellent father” credentials on him should be his actual children, but I digress.
She tried to call him the other day but coward that he is he wouldn’t pick up the phone. She was left texting him instead. She merely asked him if he could get a loan and she would make the payments. He once again begins giving her his sob story: I just sent your mother $$$$$! (Well, yes, you did but you also sent me my share of the bonus check which means you, too, have that much money! You keep leaving that part out!) Your mom takes 75% of my paycheck. Everything I make I send to you guys. I don’t even know if I would qualify for a loan because I have no money.
She looks at me while she’s texting him and asks, “Does he honestly expect me to feel sorry for him? He put himself in this situation!” I know, Rock Star; I know. It is sad when your teenage daughter has more common sense than the man you called a husband for twenty plus years.
I wish I could say that was the best part of the conversation but it got so much better. He sarcastically thanks her for remembering him on Memorial Day. “Memorial Day is for remembering the dead, not thanking the living,” she retorts. She should know that Memorial Day is the worst for him, he tells her. Boo fucking hoo! I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you turn to your conniving, gold digging whore for comfort on that day? Rock Star did say she was tempted to tell him she figured he was busy with Harley and didn’t want to disturb him. Instead she told him the worst day of her life was finding out that her dad was cheating on her mom. Put down any drinks you may be consuming. Make sure there is no food in your mouth; I wouldn’t want you to choke. His reply to this? I’m sorry about that but your mother never loved me.
I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried. Rock Star was astounded. How can he say that? “You did so much for him! You wouldn’t have done all of that if you didn’t love him, would you?” she asks me.
I shake my head thinking about his distorted thinking. Your mother never loved me therefore I was entitled to cheat on her. Well, sure! Go fuck your cousin then! Who wants to do something so practical as file for divorce or attempt actual marital counseling where you don’t sit there like a bump on a log and let your wife do all the talking and then complain because you don’t like the truth? This divorce shit is hard and it’s no fun doing it alone! No, instead let’s find someone to hold your hand, wipe your brow and suck your dick while you fuck me over. That’s the only sensible thing to do. Line up your next sucker before you get rid of the previous sucker.
I wish I could say that was the end of the conversation but alas, it was not. He informs her that he was in a car accident that day and he almost died! Does anyone else notice the death motif that seems to permeate his life? Every crisis brings him thisclose to death! He is always almost dying. I can’t decide if he’s extremely unfortunate or extremely lucky. Hmmm…. so close to the jaws of death and yet he always manages to save himself at the last minute. Tough call. You would think that with all these close brushes with death he might decide to be a better person…
He ended the conversation by telling her he sometimes wanted to just run his car off the road and die. She told me it was really hard for her not to tell him to go ahead. Instead she said nothing and I’m sure he’s crying about that now. No one cares if I die!!!
Along with being the saddest of sausages he’s also one of the most stupid sausages. I found out this week that he’s using Harley’s address as his home address for taxes. Blech! So either he’s lying and he’s going to potentially have to pay state income tax in two different states (dumbass!) or he’s commuting some 90 minutes each way at the very least every day. I also discovered that his new job came with a promotion. Yet his net income is actually less than what he was making. What kind of an idiot moves out of state, away from his kids, and takes a promotion that doesn’t even pay him 5% more than his current salary? Idiot!
I have heard it said that it is almost impossible to get to Meh when you’re still going through the divorce. I might have to disagree with that. I no longer have any fucks to give. At this point he is more comedy fodder than anything. I’m not sure how that will ever stop being the case when you’re dealing with someone who is so completely dealing outside of the realm of reality. Nonetheless, it sure feels like Tuesday most days.