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:


7 thoughts on “It Wasn’t a One Way Relationship

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