Blast From the Past 42
I feel like a unicorn some days. Or, a cross between a unicorn and a serial killer, which doesn’t really go together. Let’s back it up a bit. I’ve long ago said the only thing my father-in-law, the pastor, cannot forgive is a person who won’t forgive. Oh, you embezzled money from him? No problem. He forgives you. You cheated on your spouse? No problem. No one’s perfect. Someone lied to you? You just need to forgive them and start anew. Someone borrowed money from you and never paid it back? Just think of it as a gift. The list goes on. And I would be ok with this fucked up reasoning if it didn’t turn me into the bad guy, aka, serial killer. I’m to blame because I won’t forgive Harley for having an affair with my husband. I’m to blame because I’m resentful of everyone in his fucking family fawning all over his stupid whore and acting as though she has done nothing wrong. But here’s the thing. Harley has never asked for forgiveness. Hell, to be honest, I don’t think the whore believes she did anything wrong. She’s a lying, manipulative, deceitful bitch who feels no shame. She’s the one they should be comparing to a serial killer. Then again, they have a full supporting cast of “victims”.
My mother-in-law who told her how pretty she was, a mere six weeks or less after finding out about Zack’s affair with her. My sister-in-law who knew all about the affair the entire time it happened and encouraged my husband to do “what made him happy” because he deserved to be happy. My father-in-law who asks the dumb bitch to make him sausage balls and agrees to go to her house.
And yet somehow this all boils down to me being so heartless and unforgiving.
Today is my mother-in-law’s birthday. I got roped into saying hello to her. Hard to throw the phone across the room when you’re sitting at Chili’s with your kids. I’m sure I’ll be the elusive unicorn briefly, as in, “Oh my gosh, she talked to me today.” But then it quickly devolves back into serial killer because she’s telling me again that once we move they’d like to come out to visit if that was ok. You know, because I’m such a heartless bitch that I probably won’t allow that and I’m destroying her relationship with her son. And now I’m the unicorn again because I say that’s fine. Is it really? Are you sure? Oh my gosh, progress has been made! She’ll let us visit. What the fuck ever. I’ve told Zack and I’ve told her I don’t give a shit if they come. I will never be the cause of them not visiting. That will always be completely on them. Just like when he was boo – hoo’ing about his sister never being able to come visit. I nipped that shit in the bud. I’ve never stopped her (his sister) from coming and I never will. She’s visited us seven times in twenty years, and only two of those times were only to see us. The rest of the time there was something else going on. So if she doesn’t visit it’s because she doesn’t want to. She’s too busy running off to Florida or Gatlinburg or some beach. I am not taking responsibility for this.
Then she (his mom) tells me she’ll call me. That’s nice but I have no plans to pick up. We have nothing to say to one another. You’ve chosen to back your son’s whore instead of his wife. That’s all there is to know and that means there is nothing left to discuss. Call Harley.
She asks if I’m excited about moving. Again, I’m at Chili’s. With my kids. What can I say? No, not really. I’m dreading moving to Whoreville where my husband will only be six hours away from his whore and he can easily slip off to visit “his mom” and I’ll be none the wiser. And of course, I can’t count on his family outing him. They’ll circle the wagons and lie for him until the cows come home. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they invited the bitch over while he was there. Give them a chance to talk, to work through their issues, maybe get back together. Go ahead; take our bed. Fuck her brains out. Man up and divorce your horrible wife and marry the real love of your life.
He thanked me tonight for wishing his mom a happy birthday. Said it meant a lot to him. I’m so glad I could eat shit to make you happy.