It Wasn’t a One Way Relationship

A few months ago I posted this meme:


It got me thinking. Why are we so quick to say that the men “gave” us everything? I look back on my own marriage and see how Cousinfucker thought he was just a handyman and a wallet, how he worked and worked to provide for us while I supposedly just spent and spent.

I wouldn’t have had my pool, my house, my manicures and pedicures, my clothes, my furniture, my car, etc. without him?  Fuck that! Let’s try this one on for size. He wouldn’t be where he is without me by his side! I’m talking pre-freefall with Harley the Whore, of course. That shit’s all on her.


I’ve never denied he made good money and allowed us to live a good life. I did appreciate the fact that we were able to pay for our kids to do gymnastics and hockey, two very expensive sports. I appreciated the fact that I could travel with Rock Star, that I could buy them clothes and toys and whatever they wanted for the most part. I appreciated being able to go get a pedicure and not think twice about it. I appreciated being able to go get my hair done every six weeks with my fantastic stylist. I appreciated the fact that we lived in a good neighborhood, that we had a nice house (even if I didn’t like the one in Utah), that we had plenty of food, that we could go out to eat all week long if we wanted, that I could front costs for PTA events and not sweat getting the money back immediately. I appreciated it all and I always knew that the reason we could do those things was because he got up and went to work every day and was paid handsomely for doing so (even if he did play a lot of Candy Crush and Angry Birds).

But if he thinks I owe him because of this he is sorely mistaken. I wasn’t just some stay at home wife and mom who sat on her ass and ate bon bons while collecting his paycheck. He got to the point in his career he was at because of me. Because I was willing to move all around this damn country so he could “self-promote”. Because I was willing to reinvent my life over and over and over again so that he could pursue his career ambitions. It didn’t matter if the kids and I were happy or not. What mattered was his job and his career path. Oh sure, he always asked my opinion and gave lip service to the idea that we wouldn’t move unless I said okay. But we both knew it was a foregone conclusion. He was the breadwinner. We went where he took us, regardless of how content or happy we may have been with our friends and our lives. Time to start all over because CF wants to.

I think I’ve talked before about my many different life changes and what life was like at each different place. I loved our life in OB. I loved our friends. We had a social life. Then he got fired because of a personality conflict with the new GM. Imagine that!

I embraced going back to his previous plant because it was less than two hours from my hometown. I’d get to see my mom, my brother and sister-in-law, my niece (and later, nephew). My high school friends would be close by. And I threw myself into building a life there. I made friends. I found a church and got involved there- joining the meal team, leading a small group. I found MOPS. I got involved with that. Hell, I started a damn chapter at our church! Do you have any idea how much work that takes? I poured my heart and soul into that and then I had to leave it behind a little more than a year later. My son was in a cooperative preschool and I was serving as Vice President that final year. I volunteered up at the elementary school as well. I left behind a LIFE! CF left behind nothing. There were no terrific friends. There were no interests or hobbies or organizations. He had work and us. He took both of them with him when he moved.

And this last move? Well, the last one that we all made together… OMG! I still mourn having to leave behind all of my friends. I loved my life. I loved being a hockey mom and a gymnast’s mom. I loved serving on the PTA and doing Teacher Appreciation. I would go to the grocery store and undoubtedly run into someone I knew. I had friends. I had neighbors. I had a good life. And I gave all of that up for HIM! He wanted the plant in Whoreville. I convinced myself it was for the best for all of us. It was securing our future. I once again gave up an entire life and he once again walked away from absolutely nothing.

He was in an industry that pretty much required you to move around in order to get ahead. The way it was structured is that in a single plant there is a GM, a production manager, a sales manager, a superintendent (or maybe more if it’s a really big plant), and numerous supervisors. He started out as a supervisor. He was one of six or more. In order to advance he would have either needed to wait until someone ahead of him vacated the spot or been willing to relocate. More than likely if someone did move on (whether because they were promoted, retired, or quit) he now would need to compete with at least five other candidates to take that spot, which would have been superintendent (probably second shift, at that). If he was successful, his next big move would be moving up to first shift superintendent. Then production manager. The GM is over the sales manager and the production manager so if your GM leaves then you’re competing with at least one other person for the spot. And that’s if they don’t bring someone else in! In all the years I was married to him, through three different companies, I can only think of one time that a person went from superintendent to production manager to GM at the same plant. The four times it occurred at his various plants there was never an internal move up, at least not at his level. The first and second two times they hired someone from the outside. The last two times, which were with the company he left after fifteen years, they brought in GMs from other plants. Ironically, about a month or so after we moved to Whoreville for him to take his dream job they moved his former GM to another plant and moved a new GM in from one of the plants they had just bought.

So, if I had been one of those people who declared, “I will not move away from my family! I will not give up my friends! I don’t want to have to start all over yet again!” Cousinfucker might have made it up to first shift superintendent by now. He sure as hell wouldn’t have been in a position to become a GM and it’s doubtful he would have even been promoted to PM. Not because he sucked at his job. No need to be nasty and put him down. It would have been simply because those positions don’t open up all that frequently and there is no guarantee that you will advance despite the years you put in.

Because of me he also never had to worry about turning down an invitation to dinner. He never had to worry about last minute travel. He didn’t have to worry about staying over if something was going wrong. If some corporate bigwig came into town and wanted to take the management team to dinner he could do it without hesitation because I was there with the kids. He never had to check and make sure someone could grab the kids or that someone would be available to stay with them. He never had to tell them, “Sorry, I can’t stay tonight. My wife is out of town on a business trip so I’m the only one left to take care of the kids.” He could go in early or stay later when needed and didn’t need to worry about how his kids were going to get to or from school or practice. He could go in at odd times, like when they would have quarterly meetings and feed all three shifts. He could attend all of those without missing a beat because he didn’t need to worry about kids’ schedules or anything else. Unlike me he didn’t have to worry about going to work and raising his kids.

I’m the one working two jobs and who still needs to find time to cook dinner, do laundry, sign forms, go to conferences, and run kids around. If I get a message from one of my kids telling me practice has been canceled or there’s no food in the house or a bus is running an hour late or this thing or that thing has been changed I’m the one that needs to figure out how to still make it happen. I’m the one who gets up at 3:20 in the morning most mornings and still needs to pick up a kid from work at 10 pm or later. His only responsibility? Going to work. And again, he got to sit in his office and play games or sext with his cousin while he got paid damn good money to do so!

The man rarely had to cook a meal for himself. Hell, I fixed his damn plate for him every night! He never had to do his own laundry or even put his own clothes away. He didn’t have to do dishes. He didn’t have to vacuum. He mowed the yard once a week and sometimes did home repairs. Wow- how did he manage to do it all? If I don’t cook, I don’t eat. If I don’t run to the grocery store there’s nothing to cook or eat. If I don’t do laundry, I have no clean clothes to wear. If I don’t shampoo carpets they smell like piss. If I don’t run to the store for dog food, or toilet paper, or saline solution, or any of the other myriad of things you need to make a household run smoothly, we don’t have those things. I will take a pass on the dishes. That is now Picasso’s job.

I’m so tired of his narrative that he was this hardworking hero while I was out frivolously spending “his” money. The only reason he had that money was because he had a wife who was also willing to sacrifice. I looked at us as a team. We each had our roles.

Out of the two of us I am the only one who knows what it’s like to work AND raise kids. I’m the only one who has had to take on both responsibilities. Hell, currently he’s not supporting them and he’s not working. He’s doing absolutely nothing except playing the victim and fucking his whore of a cousin. I’ll say it again: I work ten times harder than he ever had to and I’ve taken on a shitload more of tasks than he ever did. I’m the one working two jobs. I’m the one getting up at 3:20 in the morning five days out of seven on average. I’m the one who still has to juggle kids’ schedules with my own schedule. I’m still signing all the permission slips and attending parent-teacher conferences and going to support my kid in her activities. I’m still arranging for them to be fed and laundry is still being done, although I will concede that Rock Star does her own and I have taught Picasso how to do his own. Shit’s still getting done and I’m doing it without the benefit of a wife who does everything for me.

I don’t ever want to hear this bullshit:


again! I didn’t have everything I had because of him. I had everything I had because I was willing to work as a team. I had what I had because of me and what I was willing to do. I made it possible for him to achieve what he did. I lightened his load so that he could focus on his career. We’ll see how well he fares if he ever does become employed again. My guess is that Harley is going to expect him to still play daddy to her kids, to still help out with laundry and dishes and cooking. She’s used to having a stay at home husband. She’s used to being in the position that CF was in with me. She got to call the shots and have everything taken care of for her. CF should have an amazing awakening  when and if he ever goes back to work. Hey, maybe if he makes less than her she can even tell him that the reason he still has to do all the housework and take care of her kids is because she makes more money than him!

It is doubtful his recent job search will lead him to the conclusion that he had a hell of a lot more options when he was with me but it should. Looking for a new job in a tiny radius so as not to be away from a whore who will fuck anybody indiscriminately while he’s away is going to prove a lot tougher than when he was with me and decided he no longer liked his job, or was offered a better spot. I was willing to move wherever. She can’t. The Saint won’t let his children move. So now Cousinfucker is stuck. His choices are to go to jail because he can’t pay his support obligations, or take a job wherever he can get it and lose his soul mate because she’s sure as hell not remaining faithful.

I would say I feel sorry for him, but it would be a lie. Instead I’ll say this:


It’s Meme Monday Once Again

Yes, it’s once again time for some of my favorite memes.


Ah, true love. Turns out it can kill you.


My dogs have coats like that. I’m not sure if Harley has a coat that says dog on it or if her face is enough of an advertisement.


What we all should practice saying to CF when he starts in with his poor, sad victim routine.


I go through most days feeling like this. Shocking, huh?


I hope CF enjoys the ride.


A little profane but good advice nonetheless.

I’ll leave you with a little bit of humor today.






Hell Week, Or Why Having a Positive Attitude Is a Crock Of Shit

Seriously, people! I have accepted that my default setting is tired. What more do you want? I’m trying hard to be upbeat and positive.

Just put your head down and plow on through. Stop bitching and just do what needs to be done. You can do it! You’re Super Woman!

OMG! Shut up! This week has been insane.

Sunday night I was typing out some blog posts when my computer went all wonky. I have no idea what happened, what I might have touched, what poltergeist might have hijacked my Mac. None! But even my kid couldn’t figure it out so I don’t feel so dumb. He told me to just shut the computer off and restart it, which I did. Only when I did that I could no longer open up the document that contains all of my posts. Hooray! This document is over 600 pages long! That was the excitement for Sunday night.

Monday was President’s Day. Working at a bank you’d think I would have that day off. You would be wrong. I work at one of the only banks in the city, possibly the state or even country, that remains open on most of the federal holidays. Naturally, since I didn’t have to take a kid to school I remained at my first job until about 7:30 instead of leaving at 7. I think that might have been an okay day. The only low key day of the week, in fact. But I’m so tired and have been run so ragged I don’t remember!

Tuesday I text my sister-in-law to see if she’ll be home and if I can come over to do some laundry. The washing machine is not draining so I can’t wash clothes. I also call the Apple store to try to make an appointment while I’m at work to figure out the issue with my document that won’t open and to get some help with synching my iPod since it will no longer download music. They need a serial number for my computer. I’m at work and my computer is at home so… no serial number. After work I stop at the grocery store and pick up a few items for dinner. I head home, pick up my daughter and then run her to work. She’s working 6-10. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue because I don’t usually work on Wednesdays because we don’t usually have a truck. But, as I mentioned earlier this week, we got an additional truck in and I ended up coming in, which means that after I pick her up at 10 that night I need to get to bed because I have to get up at 3:20 and go to work. Regardless, I drop her off, come back home and call the Apple store to make an appointment.

I don’t know if any of you have ever been in one of these stores and perhaps it varies from store to store, but at this one if you don’t have an appointment no one can help you because they are booked up with other appointment making customers. I didn’t want to drive out to the mall just to make an appointment so I figured this would save some time.

As you might have guessed I figured wrong. I ended up on the phone with two different people for almost 2 hours! Granted, my issues did get fixed without a trip to the store and I was grateful for that; however, I needed to do laundry desperately! It was almost 8:30 by the time I got done and I had to go pick up a child at 10. Long story short: no laundry. I then proceeded to “rest my eyes” for “just a minute” which resulted in me waking up at 9:55 and shooting out the door to pick up my daughter from work. Naturally, they didn’t get out until more like 10:15 which meant we didn’t get home until almost 10:30. Also, because I had fallen asleep in the chair before I picked her up I hadn’t taken  shower and I really didn’t want to have to get up any earlier. So, once we got home I hopped in the shower and then blew my hair dry before heading off to bed. If I go to sleep with it wet I wake up with it sticking out all over every which way. Fortunately it only takes about 5 minutes to blow it dry.

Wednesday comes and I am up again at 3:20. Our additional truck was HUGE and we got slammed. Additionally, they’ve had me bowling lately, which is when you take the pallets out of the back and pull them to the correct departments and then put all the boxes in the correct aisles. And THEN I go and help in soft lines. I think I might have actually been in soft lines all the time that day but I’d like to add this on to my list of complaints in Hell Week. Thank you! I will say though, in the spirit of trying to keep a positive attitude, that soft lines has made me rather soft so bowling allows me to once again work those biceps and develop some decent looking guns. There. Happy?

I get home and have to fill out the rest of the paperwork so that my daughter can participate in track, plus write out a check for the school’s mandatory additional insurance coverage.

Yep, Rock Star is trying track. I tried to get her to try it the last two years at her previous high school but she declined, even with various friends asking her. This time around a few of her cheer friends, including one of her best friends on the cheer team, talked her into it. So far, so good. The coach seems very impressed with her and asked her if she was sure she had never run track before. He told her he knew talent when he saw it and that obviously she was a natural athlete. All things that make Rock Star happy. Hooray!

Enough about her and how amazing she is. I went to one branch, clocked in, and then was asked to go to another branch. That wasn’t such a big deal. But then about two hours later I get a phone call telling me they’re going to need me to stay until 7:15. On my lunch hour I had to cancel dinner plans with my cousin and her friends (no worries- I don’t have sex with my cousins) and arrange for my daughter to be picked up after track practice.

I get home from work around 7:30, greeted by the sounds of my teenage daughter informing me that “there is nothing here to eat!” and that she needs to eat if she’s going to go to track practice every day after school. We head out the door at 7:30 so that I can buy a few items for lunch and buy a new red t-shirt. I was supposed to go over to my sister-in-law’s to try to do laundry one more time but with the later work schedule I couldn’t. This meant I had no more shirts to wear to work. I had already worn most of them twice by this time. I prefer not to stink when I go to work.

We get home from our little trip to Target around 8:30. I put away groceries and go to bed so that I can get up again at 3:20.

Thursday I work my two jobs. I come home from Job #1 and need to write out another check, this time for cheerleading. Something about t-shirts and a Senior Dinner. Realize sometime during the day that parent-teacher conferences are that evening. Shit!

So this was my evening (and keep in mind I haven’t had much time to sit back and decompress this entire week): I pick Rock Star up from practice. On my way home I stop at my sister-in-law’s house and start a load of laundry. Rocky decides to stay and hang out with Queen B so I head home and grab Picasso to head out for parent-teacher conferences. I attend conferences where I hear predominantly that he is a very smart boy but he’s not applying himself and tends to want to read or draw instead of listening to the teacher. I head home, grab another basket of laundry, run to my sister-in-law’s (she’s about 10 minutes away from me), pop in another load of laundry. She has switched over my first load. God bless her! I run back home so that I can shampoo the downstairs carpets where the dogs have their accidents. Rock Star was planning on having a friend spend the night Friday after school. She had cleaned up the house but I was left with the carpets and let’s face it, they needed it anyway. I shampoo that entire section with a Little Green Machine and then around 9 head back over to my sister-in-law’s. She has folded my first load; the second load is still in the dryer. I leave around 9:30, 10:00, go home, take a shower and hop in bed sometime between 10:30 and 11.

Friday I slept in until almost 3:30. I, of course, ended up bowling before doing soft lines. Worked my full-time job, headed home for a brief spell and then headed out to the final home basketball game to cheer on my little cheerleader. We got home around 10:00 and off to bed I went so that I could get up on Saturday morning.

Finally, the week is almost over! I went to work from 4-9. I try to stay later on Saturdays since it’s the only day I can work past 7 am. They have track practice on Saturdays so I took Rock Star to track practice, came home and tried to taker a nap before I had to return to fetch her and her friend, who didn’t spend the night on Friday but did come over Saturday. I laid down again once I got back from picking them up because my sweet J was taking me out for my birthday and I didn’t want to be yawning through the entire experience. She came by around 2 and we headed off to lunch, then out to the mall to walk around. What ended up happening is that we looked around on the shoe clearance rack and I finally found a pair of shoes I had been looking for and then I spotted these super cute dresses that reminded me of 1950s style dresses so I had to try one on. Then J got overheated so we left and went for ice cream instead of walking around the mall. She dropped me back off at home around 6 and I was nodding off in a chair by 8.

Today I am debating whether I want to take it easy, watch some TV, and maybe create a menu for the week and possibly do a little grocery shopping so I have everything, or if I want to head over to my sister-in-law’s and knock out some more laundry. I also need to clean up the downstairs, clean the bedroom,and  go through tons of mail. I keep telling myself that if I push myself and just work work work!!! that everything will be done and then I can relax and enjoy myself. We will see.

Here’s to hoping that this week will be a little more laid back. Although, come to think of it I do have two morning meetings which means I’m going to have to take my work clothes with me to Target and change in the bathroom so that I can be on time. One is a breakfast so I can’t complain. I never complain when people feed me!

Until next time here’s a reminder to…


Are the Screws Tightening?

When I first left court earlier this month I felt like it was an unmitigated disaster. One thing that did make me pause though was his lawyer’s insistence that her client wanted this divorce as soon as possible. Why?

If I were a betting woman I would have laid odds that he was going to wait for me to file and get the ball rolling. He’s lazy and expects me to take care of everything. The fact he’s pushing for the divorce means my interest has been piqued.

I begin to wonder why. Is she pregnant? Granted, she’s in her 40s but I wouldn’t put anything past that whore. It would ensure she has her hooks in him for the next 18 years and he will, at least legally, be a source of income for her. But I dismiss that idea because let’s face it: If she didn’t give a shit about fucking a married man, then she’s probably not going to get a case of the vapors at the thought of giving birth to a child out of wedlock.

He seemed very eager to get his hands on his 401k. His lawyer even clarified whether or not the order meant that he could now access the funds. The judge was very clear that no, those funds were to stay locked up tight. No touchy until the divorce settlement! This makes me wonder if they are feeling the financial screws. Hey, welcome to my world, CF and Harley!

On one hand she does make decent money and she had a stay at home husband for eleven years. It’s not like she’s never supported a man before. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that she likes that dynamic because it gives her the power in the relationship. Kinda like how CF felt like he was the boss of me because he made all the money.

On the other hand I know he liked making money. He liked being a big shot. And I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that it kills him to be at her mercy.

Plus, he was promising her this new and better life. Sure, she can make ends meet on what she makes. But Prince Charming was promising her double that.

I’ll buy your daughter a car. You can buy all the sporting equipment you want for your sons. I’ll pay your phone bill. We’ll go on great vacations. You can buy all the Vera Bradley crap you want. You can spend thousands on your kids- Ulta, Francesca, American Eagle, Hollister, Dick’s Sporting Goods. Of course your precious daughter should have a $300+ dress! Take them out to eat whenever you want. I’ll install DirecTV for you. I’ll pay for your divorce. I’ll pay for your utilities. The sky’s the limit! I’m going to make all of your dreams come true!

And then *CRASH*! It all came tumbling down. I look at it the same way I look at my situation when we were first getting married.

His mom and stepdad had lived on his mom’s salary for pretty much the entirety of their marriage. Pastor Fake would have occasional jobs but they never lasted long so Tammy Faye basically supported the family. Then he got a job where he excelled. He kept it up. All of a sudden they had this windfall. They went from living on one salary to living on two. His money was all “fun” money. They gave us around $13,000 in cash and gifts between May and December. She bought his car from him to give to her stepson. She paid off my engagement ring. They bought us bedroom furniture and a refrigerator. They bought us tons of gifts for Christmas and then turned around and gave us $400 each on top of that. She gave me $200 to help out with the wedding costs and then gave us another $300 the day of the wedding. It was amazing! I had never had anyone give me so much for no reason before. I was thinking, “Wow- this is incredible. I could definitely get used to this.” Of course, that, too, came crashing down. And we spent the entire marriage rescuing them.

I know how I felt when it happened to me and I didn’t even expect that kind of treatment. It was just a really nice perk. But Harley was expecting that lifestyle. She was expecting to have an extra five grand in her checking account each month. She was expecting to be able to do whatever the hell she wanted to do. It wasn’t a benevolent relative giving her this money (well, okay, it kinda was); it was her married lover/soul mate/fiance making these promises. It was a man who had made good money pretty much all of his life. She was getting to trade in the stay at home dad that she had to support for the guy making six figures who would help support her and her kids. Until that was no longer the case. Until their fun nights of drinking led to him losing his damn job!

So I’m left to wonder if he’s feeling the financial strain. If he wants to be able to be the big shot again and spend his money wildly. I wonder if she’s bitching at him, telling him that she can’t go on like this much longer, that he promised her he would give her a new and fantastic life, that he needs to help support “this family”. I wonder if she’s pressuring him to get his hands on his 401k so that he can pay for something expensive that she wants. Remember, she has been arrested for her piss poor financial management and Spring Break is coming up. Must be tough to go from being able to spend thousands each month on crap, never telling your kids no, to now having to live within your means once again. Yeah, I’m trying to feel for you, Harley, but the fact of the matter is so much worse has been done to me and my kids that I’m not feeling a shred of sympathy for you.

I’ve already talked about his settlement offer. So generous. He’s willing to pay spousal support. WHEN he gets a job. He’s willing to pay child support. WHEN he gets a job. And he’ll split the 401k AFTER we’ve paid off the marital debt with it. I’m pretty sure that was the extent of the offer. Wow!

That also leads me to wonder why he’s so dead set against filing bankruptcy. Is he hoping to be able to buy a house with the whore and he doesn’t think he can if he files bankruptcy? Are they hoping to invest in a business (oh, nice side perk would be being able to hide income from me!) and bankruptcy would prevent that? The man has nothing! He let our damn house go into foreclosure. He managed to get his American Express card closed down on him. I guess that’s what happens when you spend wildly on whores and their children and then don’t bother to pay the bill. I just can’t see any reason why he would be against bankruptcy when his back is up against the wall. Unless of course it’s to fuck with me. Let’s split this marital debt and after we do I’ll file bankruptcy and screw you over once again, Sam! Yep, that seems about right.

Maybe it’s as simple as him no longer having the money to pay his lawyer. They like to be paid upfront. They don’t work on contingency plans. Realistically, Harley may be able to pay his bills for him but his bills are very simple- his car insurance and his cell phone. She’s not willing to do without in order to pay his American Express card bill, or his spousal and child support. That bitch and her kids won’t do without, period!

Or, maybe he’s got a job offer on the horizon and he wants to get this settlement signed before he gets a job so his support will be lower. Then it will be up to me to drag his sorry ass back to court which will cost me money and time. In the meantime, he’s potentially earning good money once again and spending it all on the whore and her kids while paying a pittance in spousal and child support. That may be the winner. As long as he can cry poverty and PTSD he undoubtedly thinks his support will be much lower than if he actually gets a damn job and has actual earnings to report, especially if those earnings are decent.

Regardless, I look at it this way. May is going to get here eventually and our divorce will be finalized and a settlement will be reached. Period. That’s on my end only. On his end May will get here and he will have to go back into the courtroom and explain why not only has he not paid the back support he was ordered to pay me but also why he hasn’t made any attempt to pay his additional lowered support. He will also incur a $10,000 fine that will be directed my way. Hopefully, the judge will not be swayed by his sob story and will see it as yet another contempt of court that he hasn’t even attempted to pay me what he owes. My hope is that this will incite him to order CF to split the 401k, with me getting my half and him being required to pay me what is owed out of his half. If I’m really lucky he’ll put a deadline on the payment date with the consequence of failing to pay being immediate incarceration. May is a hell of a lot closer for him because he’s got deadlines. Me? I’ve got no deadlines. I’ve got all the time in the world.

Ignoring the Elephant In the Room

September 2014

Wow! This so perfectly sums up my in-laws.

I think a lot of cheaters want to proceed in a way that’s “cordial” because it allows them the delusion that this wasn’t such a big deal. “See? We’re all friends…” rather than acknowledging just how devastating and long-reaching the consequences of betrayal are.

Obviously they’re not the cheaters but it does explain their reluctance to cut off the head of the snake. If they do that then they’re acknowledging what they both did was wrong. Now the fact that one is immediate family and one is not would lead naturally to them not ousting their immediate family. And if they did do anything wrong then that means the cheating partner needs to go. But, if everyone remains cordial, they buy fundraiser items from one another, they compliment each other and tell each other how much they love one another, if they just act like it’s no big deal then they never have to acknowledge that what the two of them did was wrong. They can ignore the fact that a marriage almost ended because of it, that my kids’ lives were almost thrown into turmoil. They can pretend it didn’t hurt me. They don’t have to acknowledge the deceit and humiliation these two put me through. They can ignore the fact he was telling everyone she made him happy and he wanted to marry her. They can ignore the fact they were planning on getting together the weekend of Jezebel’s wedding or that she was planning on getting a permanent fucking tattoo to symbolize their love. They can ignore the many ways she tried to tell me about their affair in the hopes we would divorce and he would be free to be with her. They can ignore her behavior towards her husband when he found out. Ah yes, what a lovely woman she is. I’m not going to do anything about the fact my husband knows I’m in love with you and planning to marry you. I don’t care!

If they can ignore all of that then they don’t have to acknowledge the seriousness of their affair. They don’t have to acknowledge the pain they caused or how fucking wrong it was.

Again, Zack is immediate family. They’ll keep him no matter what. But to keep her around it means they have to pretend nothing wrong happened, or they are all labeled sociopaths.

Present Day Sam Says: And then they do one better and call up the whore and suggest she call Pookie because he’s so sad. They didn’t refuse to cut off contact because “she’s family!” They didn’t cut off contact because they were hedging their bets. Will their marriage survive? If not we don’t want to get on his bad side and have him think we don’t support his relationship with the whore! I think they were all rooting for us to divorce and for the two of them to get together. They sure as shit weren’t supporting us!

The Saint, Part 2

Years ago I wondered how The Saint felt about my husband, waaaay back when I still considered him “my husband”.

My pain and loss has made me very selfish. I typically tend to think of myself and everything I’ve lost these last nine months. I don’t think all that often about others who also are going through rough times, and believe me, I know we all have our problems.

The other night it hit me that as much as I may have lost I don’t have to share my kids with Harley. That cunt face cum dumpster will never be around Rock Star or Picasso. Ever. I don’t have to suffer the indignity of her attending show and tell with one of my kids or having to see her at one of their games or concerts. Hell, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I won’t have to put up with her ugly mug at either of my kids’ graduations either. She will be a non-entity.

The Saint doesn’t have that privilege. His kids live with Cousinfucker. He’s had to sit by and watch while Cousinfucker has tried to bribe those kids through gifts and through deeds. As much as it galls me to think of that lazy ass bastard making pancakes for his fake kids when he could never be bothered to go out of his way for his own children I know it would be even more painful to hear about how Harley was in the kitchen cooking for my kids. I don’t have to sit by and watch as that bitch tries to bribe my kids to like her with endless gifts that they will lap up like puppies. My kids aren’t taking the whore to show and tell with them. I don’t have to worry about what kind of an influence she is on my children because she’s never around my kids. She will never be around them. For that I’m grateful. Sadly, The Saint doesn’t have that same luxury.

Perhaps I am sympathizing with him for no reason. Perhaps he has no problem with the alcoholic, PTSD suffering Cousinfucker being around his kids 24/7. Perhaps he is so secure in his children’s love for him that all of Cousinfucker’s previous antics roll right off his back like water off a duck’s back. Perhaps the thought of his youngest child choosing to take Mommy’s married lover to school for show and tell doesn’t eat at his heart or bug him in any way. Hell, maybe he’s one of those highly evolved specimens that has been able to put all of this behind him for the good of everyone and as long as Cousinfucker is good to his children and treats them kindly he has no problem with him playing Daddy to them. Better that they all get along, right? The more people to love your kids the better off they’ll be.

Then again, maybe he’s not so highly evolved and maybe it’s eating away at him daily. Sadly, most men don’t fare so well in the custody battle, even when their wives are cheating whores, and they are forced to eat a unique shit sandwich. Maybe he has no other choice; he just realizes and accepts that Cousinfucker is going to be a major part of his kids’ lives now because the cheating whore has decided he is important to them. Maybe he gets that he is his kids’ father and regardless of all the shit CF buys them or how much CF tries to win their love he’ll never replace The Saint in their hearts and minds. They’ll always be talking about his “gross ass pancakes” and belittling his efforts.

I hope that’s how he’s able to see it because I know I would hate to have to share my kids with Harley. I haven’t had to share one single holiday with that bitch. I haven’t lost a weekend to her. My kids are with me all the time. I figure The Saint has lost at least 50% of his time with his kids, if not more. My guess is that the whore asked for primary custody, although I have no proof of that.

He also has to write her a check for child support each month (which is why I think she must have primary custody). Can you imagine being a stay at home parent for more than ten years and when your spouse cheats on you and then moves the affair partner into your house you’re required to pay child support to them? And the cherry on top of that shit sundae? I’m sure she out earns him significantly.

Yes, I’ve lost an awful lot. I would be willing to bet that financially The Saint is doing better than me. But I don’t have to share my kids with the affair partner. He does. And for that I am truly sorry.

Let’s Try This Gain a Life Thing Again

My sweet friend J called me Saturday morning, late, wanting to know if I’d like to go to lunch with her. I had just got home around 10:30. Of course because I was hoping for a low key day the truck on Saturday was huge and I ended up staying until almost 10. I picked up carpet shampoo and things for breakfast and dinner. Picasso asked for breakfast burritos so I obliged.

Anyway, despite being tired and planning on taking a nap before I tackled cleaning the house, I said sure. I had to drop Rock Star off at a restaurant to meet a friend to work on a paper (Whew! That was a mouthful!) so we decided to go to lunch at the same place. Afterwards we drove over to where Rock Star works and took a walk. Then we went for ice cream! I was going to treat her since she bought lunch but she wouldn’t hear of it and insisted on paying for mine. Finally, we went to Kohl’s since I had some Kohl’s cash to spend. I got Rock Star a shirt she had liked and a cute little necklace that was on clearance and I got Picasso two t-shirts.  This one is my favorite:



Sunday my dad and stepmom came up to see the dogs and take us out to lunch. Yes, they really do travel to see my dogs. I’m not sure what will happen when the dogs die off. I’ll probably never see them again. Okay, it’s not that bad. They do drive up for the kids’ events as well. I think they just love driving because they’ll drive two hours, spend an hour and then return. My dad once traveled over 20 hours out my way and spent a single night. Granted he was already on a trip and I was simply a layover, but still. I drive but I stay for a while, too.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m always going to be tired. I even agreed to come in on Wednesday at Target so I’ll be working there six straight days this week. But I need the money so I guess I will try to look at it as, “Thankfully I’m able to make more money this week.”

Tired is my new default mode. I figure if I accept it and stop bitching about it maybe it will seem okay. So even when I’m tired I’ll force myself to go to games, attend conferences, go out with friends, make an attempt at creating a new life for myself. I’m sure Cousinfucker would love to hear that my life is total misery. Some days I say, “Who gives a fuck?” but today, for at least a little bit, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. For today, at least for a little bit, I won’t lay down and die. Today, I won’t let him break me or win. At least for a little bit. I may change my mind tomorrow.

This is the cute little bracelet I bought for myself (thank you Kohl’s credit card) on Saturday. It is a reminder to me to try to brighten my attitude.


It’s not just cheaters that need to be reminded that their happiness is their own responsibility. I need to remind myself of that as well.

I won’t lie. It’s hard most times. My life has done a complete 180 compared to what it has been. But as I’ve written about before if I drop the rope and accept that the old life is completely gone then maybe I can find some good in this new one. Like, being able to pick up shirts for my kids. It’s not the shopping sprees I was able to go on but it’s something. Or, making breakfast burritos for my kids because that was what one of them had requested. Maybe Saturday morning breakfast will become a thing for us. I can go to work at 4 am, come home, make breakfast and we can spend some time together before Rock Star is off doing something. It’s not what I ever would have asked for but it’s what I have so I may as well try to embrace it. Maybe instead of dreading Christmas once again this year we can come up with some inexpensive traditions to make the holidays merry and bright. Perhaps I’ll become very good at doing things on the cheap and my kids will still have some fantastic memories instead of dwelling on all the things we no longer have.

Here’s to “bee”-ing happy despite everything.


Evil’s Victory May Be a Little Premature

By now you must know that I’m a pessimist at heart. I have to be in order to get through everything that’s been done to me and my kids these last 18 months. I did, however, just recently get the papers back from court with the judge’s ruling.

Remember how I said that I wasn’t sure if he was fined because he didn’t show up for court or because he was found to be willfully not paying support and therefore in contempt of the court order? Turns out he was found to be willfully not paying support and therefore in contempt of the court order. And, that $10,000 fine is payable to me. Thank you very much!

Furthermore, the judge noted that CF left his job in Whoreville to take another job making $50,000 less and that he was discharged due to his own bad behavior. He also noted that part of the reason temporary spousal support was awarded was so that I could pay the mortgage and marital debt. Once CF stopped paying me those bills stopped being paid. So in essence the judge did continue to impute his wages for purposes of child support but he cut spousal support due to the fact that the household bills were no longer being paid by me. While I am obviously not happy about spousal support being slashed, or that CF got a break, ultimately the judge did recognize that his job loss was due to his own fault and he would not impute his wages at a lower earning rate.

It was also reiterated that while temporary support was reduced it was without prejudice and should not affect permanent spousal or child support.

The best part though, to me, is the fact that he was indeed held in contempt for not paying his support AND his wages were imputed. If Harley is taking on all of his bills then the bitch better start writing me a goddamn check. Maybe her kids need to suffer some consequences for their mother being a whore.

Sorry, kids. We can’t… go out to eat… buy you your fancy dress… go shopping… go on Spring Break… buy hundreds of dollars worth of sporting equipment… because I need to pay CF’s wife her support. That’s what happens when you fuck around with a married man.  Yes, kids, your “stepdad” is still married to his wife. I’m just a common whore. And now since I wanted him so badly I get to pay all of his bills, including his support payments. Sorry there won’t be any extras for you and your siblings, but you don’t want him to go to jail, do you? Who would make you pancakes and go to show and tell with you?

Personally, I think if you get involved with a married person you should have to assume their liabilities. You want him/her? Then you get to help that person pay their bills. ALL of them. Congratulations! While I know that will never come to pass I would like to think that the karma bus is slowly catching up to them.

What If There Is No Life To Gain?

I wrote this post a few days ago. I actually rewrote it because the first edition was enough to make me want to slit my wrists. It was really pitiful. Believe it or not this is the sunnier version and it’s still not all that sunny. I wanted to post it anyway because despite having a fairly decent weekend, and despite having a more hopeful disposition in the past 24 hours, I spend most of my life feeling the way the post describes. Who knows? Maybe a change is a comin’. That would be delightful. For today, however, you’re left with this.

The motto over on Chump Lady is, “Leave a cheater, gain a life.” I’ve read many inspirational stories about people who have done just that. They’ve received promotions, went back to school, finished Masters or PhD programs, traveled, done fun things with their kids, remodeled or bought houses, got a new family pet, took back their lives, stopped walking on eggshells, found out that life without the cheater was fantastic, etc.  Good for them. Sincerely. These are the questions I’m always left wondering:  Did you have a job when you got divorced? How old were you when this happened? How long had you been married? Did you lose everything when you got divorced? Did you have to sell off all your furniture and belongings and leave whatever you couldn’t sell behind? Were you moved across the country and then forced out of your house, forced to move hundreds of miles once again, or do you still live in the same city? Did you have to yank your kids out of their schools once again and make them start all over? Did you move in with your mother or father or some other relative that took pity on you because without them you’d be homeless? Were you left with nothing but debt? Did your shithead ex quit his or her job after 15 years of making 6 figures and leave you destitute? Did a judge take pity on them and slash their support obligation by almost half? Were you old, fat and pretty much used up when they left for the shiny new whore?

I try very hard to hold on to that inspiration. To this belief that there is a new life out there to gain. A better life. One that will be so good that I won’t miss anything about my old life. But honestly? There is absolutely nothing that I find appealing about this new life I’m living. Believe me- I would love to say those words I just wrote: I have created a new life for myself and it is so much better than anything I lived with Cousinfucker. But the fact of the matter is, despite that 14 part bitch list I shared, I wasn’t unhappy.

I had things I enjoyed doing- Bunko, PTA, Teacher Appreciation, hockey and gymnastics for my kids. I got to travel for gymnastics meets, go shopping and buy whatever I wanted within reason, get my hair colored and cut at an actual salon instead of out of a crappy box and Great Clips. I knew lots of people. I had fantastic neighbors. I carpooled. I had lunch with friends. Hell, I had friends. I kept busy. I was able to go to all of my kids’ events. I drove them around everywhere. They were my life.

My husband wasn’t much of a partner or a father, but the kids and I got along without him. And he did join us occasionally, especially right after he was caught in his first affair. I figured out a way to be happy and fulfilled even if I didn’t have a husband who wanted to do everything with me and be by my side every minute of every day. I liked my old life, especially the one I had before we moved to Whoreville.

Now my life consists of drudgery. I work and I sleep and if I’m very very lucky I run my kids around. That’s it. I work approximately 55 hours a week. I work 6 days out of seven on a regular basis. I begin my day at 3:20 am, leave the house at 3:45 and get home sometime between 5:30 and 6:00 4 days out of 5. I dread pretty much every single day because it’s just more of the same- get up at an ungodly hour, go to work, come home, take Rock Star to school, head back home to get ready for the second job, go to work, come home, repeat. Also, make sure you’re in bed before 9 unless you’ve got to pick up a kid from a game or work. In between getting home from work and going to bed I enjoy the following fun activities: emailing teachers and/or counselors, making sure we still qualify for Medicaid, filing taxes, doing laundry, cleaning the bedroom, shampooing carpets, washing dishes, making dinner, feeding and watering the dogs, picking up Rock Star from practice, taking her and picking her up from work, and taking out the trash.

I know I should feel inspired by the stories on Chump Lady but I don’t. Every time I read them it’s like a kick in the gut once again. Promotion? Career thriving?  Making more money than I ever did when with the cheater? I didn’t even have a fucking job! I hadn’t worked outside of the home since early 1998! My big accomplishment was getting a seasonal part-time job that paid me $10.50-$11 an hour. I followed that up with getting a full-time job that also paid an amazing $11/hour. The kids and I live on approximately 15% of what we used to live on. It sucks. I hate being poor. The reality is he waited until I was middle aged and out of the workforce for far too long before he left. I don’t think I will ever get even close to living the same kind of life. I’m not sure I’ll ever even get to the point where I only have to work ONE job as opposed to two. There are not a lot of job opportunities for middle aged women who are starting over at the very bottom. Plus, we’ve already established that I suck at my new job so it’s not like this is going to lead anyplace.

Traveling? Having fun with my kids? I don’t have any money! Where the fuck am I going to travel? Hop in the car, kids! We’ll take a drive down the road, cross the state line and call it a vacation! Or maybe I’ll take them to Steak-n-Shake and we can get one of their $5 meal deals. No milkshakes, kids; Mommy is poor and Daddy is busy faking PTSD so that when he finally gets a job all of his money can go to his whore and her kids.

I remember one woman saying she created a scrapbook of things she and her kids had done since the divorce. I seldom do fun things with my kids anymore; again, I don’t have the money. Or the time. I also rarely see them anymore. Picasso is usually holed up in his room playing video games with his friends but even if he wasn’t I wouldn’t be around. Between my schedule and Rock Star’s schedule driving her to school and to work are about the only times I get to see her. Thank you, Cousinfucker, for ensuring that the last 2 years that my daughter lives at home I never get to see her. You chose to abandon her. I didn’t. And yet I’m the one that gets to continually pay for your choices.

Remodeling a house? Buying one on my own? Don’t. Make. Me. Laugh. I live with my mother, for crying out loud. If I didn’t we would be homeless. I’m not joking. I don’t make anywhere close to enough to pay rent somewhere, much less rent and utilities.

Finishing a Masters or PhD program? Snort. When exactly would I have time to go back to school between the two jobs and raising my kids? Something would have to give. It couldn’t be the jobs because I need those to pay my bills, take care of my kids, and pay for this magical schooling. Plus, I’m almost 48. I need to carefully consider whether or not someone would be willing to hire someone at my age fresh out of school. Getting discarded in your late 40s holds a few more challenges than being discarded in your 20s and 30s. Not as bad as being discarded in your 50s and 60s, I suppose, but still not a great position.

No longer walking on eggshells? Life being so much easier and stress free now that the cheater is gone? Pshaw! I have an uncanny ability to put up with tons of bullshit. It’s not like we ever walked on eggshells around Cousinfucker. If he was in a mood I just ignored him and left him to his own devices. He was probably sexting whores but I didn’t know that at the time. I just went along my merry way, doing my own thing while he pouted and sexted. I would say that this new life is the more difficult and stressful one.

Someone else said she took spin classes and met up with friends when her child was gone. After already putting in a 14 hour day I’m in no mood to do any exercise of any kind. Not spin class. Not yoga. Not aerobics. Nothing. Maybe, possibly, I might enjoy a good ol’ boxing or kickboxing class IF I can pin a picture of Cousinfucker and Harley on the bag and proceed to kick the shit out of it. Honestly, though? I’m probably too fucking tired to even do that. It all sounds great. Oh yeah, after work I’m going to lace up my running shoes and run 3 miles. Or, I’ll hit the yoga studio. Or, I’ll pretend I’m beating Cousinfucker and Harley to a fucking pulp at kickboxing class. The reality is that time kicks your ass. When you’re getting up at 3:20 in the morning 6 pm rolls around and you suddenly find yourself tired. You’ve been up for almost 15 hours by this time when most people have been up for maybe 12. Hell, I didn’t used to get up until after 7. You’ve put in a thirteen hour workday and you know you get to turn around and do it all over again the next day! It’s not like this is an aberration. No, this is your life.

Plus, Cousinfucker moved me away from all of my friends so it’s not like I have this huge support system and we get together and drink wine or do fun things together. The friends I have from my hometown have lived a life without me in it for 20 years now. Their lives are full and I make up only a tiny part of it. That would be fine if I actually had something to fill my life with outside of them; unfortunately, I don’t. So there isn’t much of a social support network.

They always counsel us to find something we are passionate about, something that we enjoy doing. I had those things. They were all taken away. I have roughly 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hours each night to devote to “my passion”- if I never want to see my kids again. And if I can afford it. And if I’m not too tired. Or I can take my one day off each week and use that to devote to my unknown passion. Fuck the dishes. Fuck the laundry. Fuck the kids. It’s all about me. Only I’m not like that. I’m not going to desert my kids, especially not after their father has done so. I have so little time and I’m always tired so whatever I end up doing I would like it to be something that I really do love and care about. I don’t want to fill in space just to fill it in. That’s what all these Meetup groups feel like. I’m afraid that’s what church is going to feel like. That’s what I think a divorce support group will end up being.

I don’t know what I’m passionate about. Everything I knew and loved was taken away from me, even before Cousinfucker started fucking his cousin. My life as I knew it has been obliterated. It has been filled with work and poverty and trying to raise two kids while poor yet working nonstop. I hate it. I absolutely fucking hate what my life has become.

There is a part of me that says, “Try to get involved with a theater group. You loved that once.” But then there’s another part that says I’m too old to get any decent parts and yet another practical part that says, “Hey! Plays take an enormous amount of time and commitment. You don’t really have any time to spare. And if you do what’s going to happen to your kids? Are you going to abandon them, too? You’re already down to 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 hours a night with them. If you do this then you’ll really never see them. And who will get your daughter where she needs to be?” So I’m afraid that will be put on the back burner at least until I no longer have kids in the house, and probably indefinitely. Yet another thing I waited too long to reclaim.

I have no joy in my life. I have brief moments where I laugh at something funny one of my kids says. I occasionally will have a day where things are going right for me so I get a 24 hour period of relief. There was the moment my daughter finally was happy. I’m glad for her but I’m not happy. I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.

For the most part I just exist. I’m numb. Life is neither good nor bad. It just is. I’m just here killing time, counting down the days, the weeks, the months, the years. My life consists of working all day long and then running to and fro for my daughter who doesn’t have her license yet. I don’t really look forward to anything. I don’t even look forward to or find joy in attending my kids’ events because it just means a longer day for me. It’s one more thing on my list of things to do and I’m already exhausted most days. The last thing I want to do is go for another 2 or 3 hours when I’ve already been going for a good 14 hours or more. I dread most days, actually. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve stumbled out of bed at 3:20 in the morning, got ready and headed off to Target and thought, “This is my life now.” There is a certain feeling of defeat when you realize that this is your life and it’s never going to get any better. You realize you are never going to live a good life again. You will never take another vacation. You will never get to travel to places you’d love to visit. You won’t be able to ever take your kids to DisneyWorld. You will never be able to go shopping or buy your kids things just because. You’ll never be able to give them grand gifts or surprise them with something they’ve wanted for a while. You will never own your own home; hell, you may not even be able to afford to rent your own apartment. You realize that you will struggle in poverty for the rest of your life. That you will always be pinching pennies and remembering the life you used to live- the one where you didn’t have to worry constantly, the one where you had a home of your own, the one where you had furniture and household belongings and friends and joy. It was a life I didn’t dread and wish away.

I keep hearing about this new and improved life. I really wish I could create it. Unfortunately, with the choices Cousinfucker has made I now must spend the bulk of my life working for very little money, which leaves very little left over to create any kind of new and wonderful life. I would love to report soon that I love my life, that I’m happy and content. First I heard give it six months. Then I heard give it a year. Now I’m hearing give it two years. Well, I’m a year and a half out from D-Day and I’m no closer to Meh or to a new and improved life than I was 2 weeks after that day. Perhaps I shall begin the countdown anew once we are officially divorced.

The Saint, Part 1

September 2014

I’ve always thought it would be interesting to hear how her husband felt about mine. I wonder what kind of movie runs through his mind when/if he thinks of their affair. I mean even with my limited knowledge I know how I feel about his wife. I think she’s a manipulative, conniving homewrecking whore with no morals, no conscience, and no sense of right or wrong beyond what she wants. But I wonder if the Saint sees Zack the same way. Does he think of him as the callous sonofabitch that swooped in and seduced his naive wife? I figure the Saint has a hell of a lot more information than I do. He was married to an idiot, a self absorbed idiot, who left her phone out. So I’m sure he saw plenty of texts between the two of them. Saw their conversations and their plans for a happy future together. I wasn’t privy to that. Was that because my husband actually cared, while she didn’t? She wanted out and onto the next one while he was hedging his bets? That makes it so much better. So I wonder. How does he view my husband? Is he the great love of her life or just one in a long string of her affairs? Does he understand why it happened or does he blame it all on Zack? Does he blame her? Is he mad at her still? Does he hold my husband more responsible than his wife? I’m not sure who I blame more. Yes, he’s the one that made vows to me. He shouldn’t have cheated. She’s the one who rushed in to play footsie with a married man. She should have walked away. I think I hold them equally responsible. They both knew what they were doing. And if my husband is to be believed they weren’t fooling around when he complimented her picture, which was the end of April. I think the 24th or 26th. It rapidly went from “You look fantastic!” from him to “My marriage isn’t all that great,” from her to “I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you.” No more than 2 weeks. So they both knew exactly what they were doing. And her telling him her life wasn’t all that great and her marriage wasn’t so rosy was a blatant come on. He had complimented her, probably more vigorously than a married man should have, and she was laying the bait trap. I know that makes it sound like I hold her more responsible. I don’t; I simply happen to think she’s extremely conniving and manipulative. He shouldn’t have been sniffing around but she knew exactly what was happening and never even tried to stop it. She ran full speed ahead. He was her out. He was going to ride in on the white horse and rescue her from her not so rosy marriage. I don’t know if that’s how The Saint sees things. Probably not. I wouldn’t be surprised if he feels Zack is every bit as conniving and manipulative as I see his wife. One thing I do know though is when the Saint discovered their affair a second time she told Zack she wasn’t going to do anything about it because she didn’t care if he knew. I think that speaks volumes.