My Splendiferous After Trial Weekend 

Obviously this was written back in the beginning of November. I didn’t think it was smart to post when I had prying eyes on me. But I’m free now so here you go! 

My divorce didn’t go as planned as you all know; however, that did not stop me from having an absolutely fantastic weekend.

The mobster drove up to see me. He met me after the trial. I took him to my favorite restaurant in town, which I think I wrote about before. It’s an all-you-can-eat Japanese steakhouse/sushi restaurant. They make everything to order instead of having it all out on a buffet. It’s delicious. I had my favorite- the Angel Roll.

I could have sworn the mobster told me he loved sushi but it turns out he didn’t think he’d ever had it. He ended up trying two different ones and said he liked them. It was an amazing dinner and he thanked me for bringing him to this place and showing it to him.


We went back to the hotel and went swimming and soaked in the hot tub. We were the only ones there. It was so nice to lounge around in the hot tub or float in the pool and just talk and be together. The pool closed at 11 but we stayed in until almost 11:30. We were quiet so I don’t think they minded.

The next morning we woke early enough to enjoy the beautiful sunrise against the backdrop of the mountains. We had breakfast at the hotel and then headed out to see one of Rock Star’s friends. I had him take the scenic route so I could show him the breathtaking views I got to experience while living there. I also took him by my old house and had him drive along the road I call my happy place.

It’s just a short winding road with a quaint stone fence, a relaxing creek and my beloved cows. For good measure there are sometimes ducks swimming in the stream and the house across the road has big, white, fluffy ducks.

I took him by Picasso’s middle school and Rock Star’s high school.

We met Rock Star’s friend at the new coffee shop; we had a really nice visit. She caught me up on her life. She’ll be graduating with her cosmetology license when she graduates from high school in June. This is the kid that practically lived with me the last summer we were there. She bought me Chunky Monkey ice cream as a going away present. I love this kid!

We ended up giving her a ride home and from there we left to go to the beach. Yes, you read that right. The mobster and I headed to the beach in November.


It was glorious! Granted, it took us an hour to find a room because there was some police convention going on but that was really the only hiccup.

The mobster likes to make frequent stops so I indulged him. We stopped at a scenic overlook and one time I told him I felt really bad but I needed to stop for a bathroom break. We also stopped along the way to see a friend of mine.




I met my lovely friend M back when I lived in Utah and she and her family eventually followed me to Virginia. Nah, not really. Her husband got a job at one of the many colleges in the state and they moved. But still… what a story. Two people meeting up thanks to PTA; they click right away and become fast friends. I move 2000 miles away and she thinks she’ll never see me again. Instead she ends up moving less than three hours away.

Her husband’s birthday was that day and she had to work all day so it was a quick visit. We met at Starbucks and chatted for about 30 minutes. I asked her later what she thought of him. She replied that from what little she had seen of the two of us she thought we were perfect for each other.

The reason I’m telling you this long rambling story is to explain why we didn’t get to the beach until after 7. The police convention caused us to not check into a room until around 8.

As soon as we checked in we headed off to a fabulous seafood buffet. They had oysters, shrimp, two or three different kinds of crab, scallops, multiple types of fish, soup and crawfish. That’s off the top of my head. They also had a salad bar, tons of veggies, and many different types of amazing desserts. It was so good!

You know the best part? The mobster stood in line to bring me crab legs. He would get butter and cocktail sauce for me. Isn’t that the sweetest thing? I’m 48 years old and yet I find a man doing something as simple as running and getting me something I would like to be an amazing gesture. For the record, I did go and fetch some baklava for him. I knew he was a fan. I don’t want anyone to think I just take, take, take and never give.


We woke up bright and early the next day. I discovered he had kept the sliding glass door slightly ajar so that I could hear the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore all night. I love that sound.


We took a very long walk. He wanted to go all the way to the end of the boardwalk. I joke that we walked all the way down to -25th Street. Along the way we stopped and took pictures. Gosh, he loves to take pictures and videos. It’s so refreshing. I bet we were out walking for close to two hours. We walked on the beach and dipped our toes into the Atlantic (it’s quite cold this time of year, btw). We walked on the boardwalk. We walked on the sidewalk. We etched our names into the sand. We watched boats and we watched people. We held hands. We laughed.





We had grabbed a cup of coffee before we headed out so on our way back (after walking 80 blocks, uphill, both ways…) I started looking for a public restroom. He thought it was adorable how my bladder got so excited upon seeing a port-a-potty. I had to literally stop, cross my legs, and wait for the urge to pass me by. He thought for a minute I was “leaking” which I suspect is a really polite way of saying, “peeing my pants”. So I had to explain to him that I was not “leaking”; I just had to take a minute because my bladder went into overdrive seeing its opportunity. I spent my youth being instructed to “Go now!” whenever we stopped on long trips. Now, whenever I see a bathroom I have to go! Seriously! Even if I had no urge before. I’m like Pavlov’s dog.

We got breakfast at the hotel and took it up to our room where we ate on the balcony. Sometimes it really is the simple pleasures. I loved just watching the people go by, listening to the crashing waves, looking at that beautiful ocean, and admiring the dogs with their owners as we sat on our little balcony and ate our eggs.


Finally, we checked out, wandered the streets a bit more, bought souvenirs for our kids, and then had lunch before heading back to his house.

We had less than 24 hours there but it was still enchanting. I loved going in the off season. The crowds are practically non-existent. The rooms are cheaper. And the weather, at least this time, was still fabulous. High 60s, low 70s. Perfect!

They were setting up all their Christmas lights and we had a great time trying to figure out what some of them were.


We both agreed we’d love to go back, and maybe next time take our kids with us.

We didn’t get back to his house until after 7. We picked up a pizza and headed home. We watched some episodes of The Office and I fell asleep with my contacts in.

In the morning he took me over to his parent’s house so I could meet them, and then we drove the hour and twenty minutes to meet my mom. We had lunch together, gossiped about the trial, and before you knew it, it was time to say goodbye.

It seems like there is never enough time together. Thankfully, we had already planned on getting together again in two weeks. I’ve been hating the four and five week gaps. I can do three. I prefer two. Stay tuned for our next adventure.


My Mobster

Can I just tell everyone what a difference having someone like him in my life makes? It makes me a little sad, honestly, that I settled for so little for so many years. My biggest regret is that I met him when I was 48 instead of 18 or 25 or some other random number that would have given me many more years with him.

He texts me every morning. Good morning, beautiful. Hello, gorgeous. We still talk all the time. He’s usually the last person I talk to before I go to bed. I tell him every mundane thing that is going on in my life.

He drove 10.5 hours up to see me 2 weeks after “meeting” me. He’s made that trip 3 times now.

He sends me song lyrics that remind him of me or us. He even created a private Pinterest board for the two of us. We always joke that we are the exact same person. Seems only fair since our exes are the exact same person as well!

He thinks I’m funny and laughs at my jokes. We’ll be talking late into the night and all of sudden he’ll say, “Holy crap! When did it become 12:30?” and I’ll reply, “About a minute ago.” And then we both laugh and laugh. I’ve heard through the grapevine that we are exactly alike. We laugh at the same jokes, we have the same sense of humor. We think about the same weird things. It’s wonderful.

Towards the end of September I made the impulsive decision to go visit him at his place. I hadn’t seen him since Labor Day weekend and I missed him like crazy. Originally all of his kids were going to be gone- his two boys would be watching three MLB games in another state and his daughter was going to the beach with one of her friends. There was a small hiccup in the plans and his daughter ended up not going to the beach but I went ahead and headed on down to his place.

One night as we were talking he rustled some papers and asked me if I knew what they were. Of course I didn’t. He told me I would soon find out.

As I pull into his driveway at 4 am this is what I saw…



As I walked up to his house I saw this…

And as the weekend progressed I found out he had printed out my list of 100 things I love and had bought as many of them as he could. That was what those rustling papers were. There was chips & salsa, Moscato, diet Coke, dill pickles, vanilla chai, Earl Grey tea, and cheesecake for starters. He told me he was hoping that it would rain because the smell in the air after it rained in the Blue Ridge mountains was one of the things I loved. I told him I had no doubt that if he had the ability to make it rain that he would.

I was absolutely amazed. I can’t recall anyone ever doing anything like that for me before. I appreciated it so much.

We had a great weekend. Saturday evening we went out to eat with his youngest. I was telling some really bad jokes (you can find most of them here) and she was laughing. We were both ribbing him about ordering coffee at the restaurant. He told me later he loved that. He thought he’d never experience that again and he loved the way we interacted with each other. Sunday morning before going to breakfast we took the dogs for a walk. He showed me around town and we were out walking for probably an hour. I left them with taco dip and scotcheroos, which they loved.

It was a very short visit- only about 36 hours, but it was definitely worth it. I had to get my mobster fix!

I’m telling you a good man makes all the difference in the world. I think he’s a keeper. No, I know he’s a keeper.

I’ve wondered many times if I could give him what he wants. I know he’d love to get married. He wants to live with me. And yet I am constrained by spousal support. I feel bad that I can’t move ahead like he’d like because I need whatever spousal support is coming my way. I have to think about my kids and what they’re going to need. He’s said many times he knew what he was getting into when he got involved with me. He says he knows it may be 20 years before we can make anything official. He’s said on more than one occasion that it’s okay if we never legally marry. Or if we do marry he’s willing to do a prenup so that I’m protected.

He’s put up with my crazy. He’s been sympathetic to my skittish behavior. He understands and he lets me be me. If I’m upset or I’m angry he doesn’t take it as a personal insult.

He is making plans to move up here in June of 2019.

Why didn’t I meet and marry this guy the first time around? Would we have appreciated each other as much as we do if we hadn’t endured what we did? I’d like to think we are who we are, not because of the horror that was foisted upon us, but because we are good people. I’d like to think that if we had met up many years ago it would have still been magical and wonderful. Regardless, I’m glad he’s in my life now, even if it is only sporadically. We are the sane parents after all.

I trust this guy. I know; I know. I trusted CF, too. This is different. I had no reason to trust CF. I guess maybe hearing his friend tell me he would never cheat, or listening to Tammy Faye tell me all he wanted was a family, or looking at his golden pedigree and his West Point credentials made me think I could trust him. None of it meant squat. He lied. He cheated. He stole. He abandoned his kids.

The mobster has been through this. From his own lips and his own writings I have heard the horror that was his marriage in the last few years. I’ve heard and read about the lies, the despair, all the tears, the pain he was put through. I also heard and read about how he hung in there, trying to make it work, convinced that they could make their marriage work if he just tried hard enough, if he could just change enough to make her happy. He did his best to ensure his kids grew up in an intact home.

He and his wife went on a blind date and basically never left each other’s side. He did consider calling it quits but she got pregnant and they married. CF and I met through the personals, got engaged 6 days later and got married 7 months later. By all accounts neither of those relationships should have lasted. And yet they did. For 25 and 21 years. The mobster has said on more than one occasion that our marriages would have continued to last if our spouses had been willing. We didn’t leave. We didn’t quit. He has been known to say, “Why in the hell didn’t I leave 12 years ago?”

Make no mistake though. He will freely admit that there were things he could have done better, or that at least there were better ways to handle the situation. He talks about his own bad behavior in retaliation to the things she did and he admits his own faults. He has told me the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I feel like I have reasons to believe him. Not just the above paragraph but also the willingness to meet me where I am. The willingness to forego ever getting married again even though he really would love to. He doesn’t quit. I’ve heard about all that he did to try to make his marriage work and I have no reason to believe that if he worked that hard to preserve a relationship with someone who treated him so badly that he wouldn’t work equally as hard, if not more so, at a relationship with someone who adores him.

You know what? Add that to the list. When I am going to write a post about something in his life I will run it past him. I never want to put stuff out there that he doesn’t want shared. You know what he always tells me? He always says I can write whatever I want. He tells me it’s my blog and I don’t need his permission, even when I’m writing about him or things going on in his life.

I look back on some of my earlier entries where I was convinced I would be alone forever. I really did believe that. And my mindset hasn’t changed all that much. This guy came from out of nowhere and swept me off my feet. If it all ends tomorrow I don’t see myself getting involved with anyone again. I wasn’t looking this time and I don’t intend to look if he should ever leave me. I’m okay being alone. I really am. The mobster brings me out of my shell. He ticks off pretty much every box on my list for the ultimate man. I can’t think of one criteria he doesn’t meet. I’m glad I have someone to spend my time with. I’m glad I have a real partner.

Here’s one final story for you. When I was steeling myself for the worst case scenario in my support trial the mobster would ask me, “Sam, are we going to be happy?” I’m being my petulant self and grudgingly replying, “Yes, we’ll be happy but I’m still going to be pissed!” He goes off on this tangent about how we will be happy no matter what, even if we’re begging on the streets.

We’ll be out on the streets with our little tin cups. And once they’re filled I’ll run and get us coffee. Do you hear that? I’ll go get us coffee because I love you. When I come back you’ll be waiting for me in our cardboard box, and it will be the best cardboard box out there. And we will be happy with our coffee in our cardboard box.

There was more to the story. Apparently, that was our second home because I had burned the first one down. Sounds about right. Anyway, I was laughing so hard I really did feel better about everything. That man makes me laugh. Like, really laugh. He makes me insanely happy.

Thank you, Mobster; thank you for being you. Thank you for being there for me, even when I’ve been crazy, even when I’ve hurt you, even when I’ve been a pouting little brat. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for making me smile again. Thank you for waking me up and thank you for believing in me. You have given me things I didn’t even know I wanted. I love you. 4evah!

2017 Wrap Up

It’s that time of year where we look back and review everything that has happened. Can I just say 2017 has absolutely flown by? Whew! I know time seems to pass more quickly as you age but this is ridiculous!

2017 started off with me beginning my first full time job in basically 19 years. It was rocky in the beginning. Does anyone remember me crying that I was probably going to get fired because my drawer wouldn’t balance? And it was a little intimidating going into all these new branches, meeting new people over and over.

I did, though. I stuck with it. I got better at my job. I made friends. I have one branch that eagerly looks forward to my Teller Balancing dance. As 2017 comes to a close I’m less than 2 weeks away from my one year anniversary with the bank.

2017 also began with me working two jobs and my mom off to Florida. I jumped into the full-time working mom gig with both feet. It sucked! I was getting up at 3:20 in the morning 4-5 days a week, going in from 4-7, crossing my fingers my son woke up on time and got on the bus, heading home to grab Rock Star and take her to school, and then heading back home to get ready for my “real” job which I would work from 8:45-5:15, unless I needed to close and stay until 7:15. Then I got to come home and do parent stuff- making dinner, grocery shopping, cleaning, doing laundry, shampooing carpets, running errands. Hooray! I remember thinking life really sucked at this point. I remember feeling no joy. I remember begging for an aneurysm to put me out of my misery. And I cried pretty much every day. I was still broke. Still receiving no support from CF. Working two jobs meant I could buy food and toilet paper. It didn’t leave a lot left over for fun.

In February I traveled to Virginia for the first show cause hearing. My husband declined to attend. My spousal support was slashed from $4600/month to $1600/month but I was awarded my arrears and he had until May 5th to pay. I also walked away with a trial date for my divorce. I turned 48 and had probably the most depressing birthday of my life, although I have to say my brother and his family did their best to make it a wonderful day.

In March two things happened which helped my burden tremendously- my mom finally returned home from Florida which meant she could help pick up and/or drop off Picasso (especially with the damn bus always running two hours late!), and Rock Star finally got her license which meant I could hand her my keys and let her go. I don’t think I will ever forget the first time I came home exhausted, wanting to take a nap after working a Saturday at Target, and figuring out what time I needed to wake up so I could go pick her up. Then it hit me. She had driven herself to practice! I could take a nap without interruption. Sleep, glorious sleep, was mine for the taking.

I should also note that when my mom came back she once again began doing my laundry and cooking dinner. Thank you, Mom! I sincerely do not know how single moms do it day after day.

In April Rock Star, with the help of a loan from her Nana, bought her first car. I also finally got my back support!

I gradually began feeling a little better. I laughed more. If I wasn’t necessarily optimistic I was at least less pessimistic. I could breathe again. I started looking to the future and thinking about the many possibilities. I got excited about being in control of my own life and doing things on my terms.

May saw my daughter head off to prom; my divorce trial date came and went thanks to CF trying to make a claim for PTSD. My beloved Beau died. My mom had a birthday. She would kill me if I told you how old she was.

What will stand out the most about the month of May, however, is that I met my mobster. My wonderful, wonderful mobster. The man who has brought laughter and love back to my life. What started out as a chance “meeting” quickly escalated into something more, something absolutely amazing. And thus began the nonstop texting, the video chats, the phone calls, the late nights and surviving on 3-4 hours of sleep.

In June, we finally met in person. Ironically, he was with me on the day that marked the one year anniversary of my life imploding, the day CF dropped the bomb that he had lost his damn job and wouldn’t be sending me any more money. Rock Star turned 17. The mobster turned 49. We had our first adventure together when we went canoeing. Damn near killed me!

Picasso turned 15 in July. The mobster and I met up a few more times in various locations. He met my son. This month marked one year since I moved out of my home in Virginia and moved in with my mom back in Indiana. One year. Hey, I survived!

I quit my second job in August. It was bittersweet. I was going to miss the friends I had made working at Target, and I was grateful for the chance they had given me by hiring me, but I was so looking forward to having weekends off and no longer having to set my alarm for 3:20. I saw the mobster a few more times and I finally met his daughter. Likewise, the mobster finally met my daughter. We had an awesome time Labor Day weekend (which started in August). We went rafting and to a large festival. Rock Star began her senior year and Picasso began high school. I attended training to do referrals and make sales at my job this month as well.

September was pretty quiet. I only got to see the mobster once more. My divorce trial was supposed to take place the 26th but we got kicked out of the room so it was postponed yet again. I knew this early in the summer so it wasn’t a shock. I got to walk with my daughter for senior night. Lots of football games to watch my cute cheerleader. This was my first month attempting to sell products to our customers. I’m not so great at it but it’s a little bit of extra money. Rock Star was invited to join a competitive cheer team. She also got her first college acceptance letter.

October I didn’t see the mobster at all. More football games. It was much colder. I did lots of prepping for the divorce trial.

November 3rd I finally went to court. I thought my lawyer put on one heck of a case. The judge must have agreed because on November 22nd I found out it had all pretty much gone my way. You all know the drill- $2800/month in spousal support, $1805.81/month in child support, $25,000 in legal fees, and what will probably amount to 60% of what is left in his 401k, plus half his pension. He was also found to be in contempt for not paying support and ordered to pay me by January 5th or end up paying an additional $10,000. The judge told him his story of why he stopped payment on the checks “hurt his credibility”. Plus, bonus points for the fact that Harley the whore was named in the judge’s opinion. She was found to be a major cause behind his move to Kentucky and the real reason he can’t make any more money; the judge also pointed out that CF could be paying me more he was just more concerned with making sure his girlfriend and her kids had whatever they wanted.  I had a great Thanksgiving. I had a few good weekends with the mobster as well. CF decided he wanted to toy with me by hacking my Facebook page and sending obnoxious texts to the mobster. Basketball season began and I went to watch my cute cheerleader.

And finally we have December. I went to my very first cheer competition which was very expensive and it didn’t work out exactly the way I had planned. I had fun nonetheless. I’m looking forward to watching more at the next one. I have a referral goal of 12 referrals each month at the bank. With one more day of work this month before I take a few days off I have 38 referrals. The sales side sucks, but I’ve got referrals coming out my ass! I got my full support order for the first time since May when he sent me a check for $3600 for February’s back support. CF decided to up the ante and contact his daughter to try the sad sausage dance. It didn’t work. We had a pretty decent Christmas this year. I am heading to Virginia to see the mobster. The kids and I will be spending 4 full glorious days and 2 half days with him and his offspring. We have a lot of fun things planned, including a huge 2 night concert. I plan on ringing in the New Year with my mobster and our kids.

2017 started off in a gray, dark, joyless place. It has ended up being a great year. I have found laughter and love and all things light. If I were to name this year it would be this: 2017- the year happiness returned.

With Miracles Comes Drama

You knew there had to be a catch, didn’t you?

CF struck again. I was telling Rock Star that Christmas was going to be a little lean but that once I had my money I would get her the more expensive gift she wanted. That’s when she informed me her dad had sent her a text the day before, letting her know that I had received my child and spousal support in full.

I know what you’re thinking. You must be imagining him as a jolly Christmas elf, spreading Christmas cheer! Don’t worry, Rock Star! Daddy has come through for you. You’re going to have a great Christmas because I finally did the right thing and paid your mom the court ordered support I owe her. I didn’t spend it all on my home wrecker cousin and her brood before taking a look at what was left over and then sending some your way. No, baby doll, it’s Christmas! I want you and your brother to be happy and to have everything you want this year!  The sky’s the limit!  It’s going to be like Christmases of yesterday. Daddy loves you and misses you and I hope we can use this holiday season to bridge the gap between us because it’s killing me to not have you and your brother in my life!

Of course, you would be wrong. Basically, he was telling her he wouldn’t be sending a gift her way because I was taking all his money. How was it he put it? Your mother should be buying you some really nice gifts because I’m paying her $4600/month and will be for the rest of my life.

There are so many things wrong with that. Where do I even begin? Let’s start with this: He made my kid cry. That sad sack sonofabitch with his “poor me” routine and utter obliviousness to what he’s put his own children through, made my kid cry. Fuck him!

Or how about the obvious lie he told- I’m paying her $4600/month and will be for the rest of my life. He will not be paying me $4600/month for the rest of his life. His support amount will go down in June when she graduates. It will go down again once Picasso graduates in another 3 1/2 years. After both kids are 18 he will be paying only his $2800 in spousal support and even that is not for life, unless he has a terminal illness I’m not aware of. It will last for 16 years. Hardly a life time. Hell, we were married longer than that.

I won’t even fault him for telling her that he sent the support. I’m a big proponent of telling the kids the truth, especially when they’re teens. I don’t care if they know how much I get from him each month. I’d planned on going over our budget with them later next month anyway.

I do fault him for acting like the hapless victim once again. Not once in this long text message did he ever ask her how she was doing. He never apologized for his behavior or his choices. He didn’t even tell her that he loved her.

No. You know what he did do? He told her he knew that she hated him but “her mother was doing the exact same thing.”

I was right. He somehow hacked my FB page and he’s been talking to the mobster’s STBX. I don’t know who contacted whom but I know they’ve been talking. How do I know this?

CF proceeded to tell my daughter that my “boyfriend” was still married and that he had physically abused his wife. He knew this was true because he heard it directly out of her mouth. We all know how truthful lying cheaters are. Throw in alcoholism on top of that and you’ve got yourself a fantastic inside source.

Yes, I’m doing exactly the same thing that Cousinfucker and Harley did. I’m sneaking around behind my husband’s back, letting him think that we are happily married and I’m committed to him and only him, while I fuck around with another man. I’m letting him think I’m going through a mental breakdown and while he’s telling me he’s going to stand by me and won’t ever leave me I’m making plans with the help of my mommy to dump his ass for my cousin. I’m taking marital funds and spending it on another man and his kids while letting my own kids go without. In fact, I didn’t announce this on my blog but I’ve recently vacated my home and moved in with the mobster all without saying a single word to my kids. I just got in the car one day, went to work, and then moved out of state.

Likewise, the mobster is sneaking around behind his wife’s back, telling her how much he loves her and wants to remain married, while he messes around with me.

That’s a little difficult when she’s living with another man! Not just any man either. The man she fucked around on him with. The man she introduced their daughter to as a benign friend. The man who had the balls to talk to the mobster like nothing was going on while he fucked his wife behind his back. The man she fucking left him for and promptly moved in with all without saying a fucking word to him or his kids. Sound familiar?

Those two nincompoops are so caught up in their poor me, I’m such a victim, why is this all happening to innocent little ol’ me mentality that they really think it is the same thing.

Fuck them both! Yes, I am still married, and so is the mobster. I no longer give a shit. We are the cheated on spouses. They lied to us, they betrayed us, they humiliated us. THEY left US. THEY are both living with OTHER PEOPLE and have been since the day they left our homes.

I am NOT the other woman. I did not traipse into someone else’s intact marriage and say, “Oooh, I want that!” His ex had already moved in with her married boyfriend. She had left him two months before I ever knew he existed. He had already begun taking the steps to file for divorce.

And what in the hell is with the abuse narrative that all these cheating women come up with? She’s not the first I’ve heard of. Hell, watch an episode of ID TV and you’ll hear it over and over. It’s not enough that she leaves him. It’s not enough that she leaves her kids behind without saying a word. No, now she has to malign him and try to assassinate his character.

For the grand finale he begged her to call her grandmother, good ol’ Tammy Faye, the orchestrator of this lovely affair-y tale. It was something along the lines of: I know you hate me but she’s done nothing to you. She’s going crazy not seeing you. She loves you and misses you.

Yes, she misses her grandchildren so much that she doesn’t bother reaching out to them. Oh, she used to comment on Rock Star’s Facebook page. Until Rock Star unfriended her. And she sent Picasso a Christmas card with a similar message, telling him how much she misses him and sure wishes she could see him again. She’ll send a birthday card and a Christmas card, but aside from that… nothing.

Any of them could get in the car and drive up here to see their beloved grandchildren/niece/nephew, but none of them do. Why not? Because it’s too much of an inconvenience. Much better to expect me to drive them, or to have my brand new driver make the 5-6 hour drive, right?

One final detail. He told her he had no way of contacting her brother as he didn’t have his phone number.

Huh. That’s strange. Picasso has had the same number since he got his first phone. How does he not have the phone number because he sure as hell had it 2 years ago?

Thankfully Rock Star saw through her dad’s bullshit. She said she thought about texting him back, calling him on his lies, but she decided it wasn’t worth it. She was smart enough to see it for what it was- yet another ploy for sympathy. As she said, “Sorry you’re just now experiencing consequences!” She pointed out that he never once asked about her and her well being, only lamented his own. He still doesn’t seem to get that he ruined her life- twice! First, making her move from Utah, destroying everything she knew there, and then making her leave Virginia and forcing her to leave behind her new life she built. She’s pissed and she has every right to be.

She also brought up the fact that her grandmother is not without fault. Tammy Faye did do something to her- she urged the whore to call her father. Even if that hadn’t happened she still condones what her dad and the whore are doing and Rock Star won’t forgive her for that. There are consequences for your actions, and unfortunately Tammy Faye is just now learning that. There’s that ugly word again. And I’m sure it never dawns on them that any of this is a direct result of their own bad choices. No, it’s all horrible things being done to them, these loving, sweet Christians who are so good and kind and do nothing wrong.

As for me and the mobster, well, she pretty much said the exact same thing I just said. It’s not the same thing. She knows his wife left him. She knows he would be divorced if his wife didn’t refuse to sign the papers. She knows he isn’t abusive.

I’m going to go off on a little tangent here and then bring it back and conclude this. This crap is exactly why you tell the kids the truth in age appropriate language. It’s why you report the facts and don’t editorialize. I’ve heard of way too many people who have taken the so called high road and had it backfire on them horribly- kids blaming them for divorcing their other parent, kids being persuaded by the cheating parent that the betrayed spouse is crazy or had it coming, the affair partner being benignly introduced to the kids as just someone new. It’s total crap. Tell them the truth or the cheater is going to be busy filling their head with lies.

These people aren’t content with cheating, lying, and leaving you. They want to destroy you, and they have no problem with lying over and over again if it makes them look good and makes you look bad. Get the facts out there because if you don’t, I assure you, the cheater will be getting their own version of what happened out there.

That’s why I’ve shut that shit down every single time I’ve had it happen. His sister messaged me to say I would always be a part of her family because I was the mother of her niece and nephew. Upon talking to her she told me all she had been told by her brother was that I had had him served with divorce papers and he was clueless as to why that may be. You can bet your ass I was on the phone immediately, filling her in. I didn’t editorialize. I simply told the truth: He’s having an affair with Harley again. That’s why I filed. He knows exactly why I filed for divorce.

Later on when she said he had told her he had been kicked out of the house and that I refused to let him take any of the household items with him I told her he had never asked for anything and that we were unaware he was moving out.

I didn’t call him an asshole or a liar in either of those situations. I simply corrected misinformation.

When his good friend from high school told me he had never known CF to lie I calmly listed the many lies he had told me. Again, I didn’t put him down; I corrected misinformation.

In conclusion, I’m doing my best to not let this get to me. I find it very creepy that CF and Batshit Crazy are talking to one another. Between the two of them they wouldn’t recognize the truth if it hit them square in the ass. They both love to play the victim while they go about victimizing people. They’ve both abandoned their kids and cheated on their spouse. I’m sure they are egging each other on.

On the other hand, once my divorce decree is signed, sealed, and delivered, I don’t give a shit what they talk about. They can pop popcorn and sit around a fire, trying to outdo one another with their crazy stories of their horrible ex. I’m not sure if Harley would participate or if she would just be pissed that her true love has a new bestie.

Rock Star seems convinced that he’s pissed that I’ve moved on. I’m not sure I believe that. I don’t really know what’s motivating him right now. Mainly, I think he’s just pissed he got his ass handed to him by the judge so he’s lashing out. He probably thought he had hit the mother lode when he realized I was dating again, and when he found the STBX of the man I was dating. Sorry, Charlie! Move along; nothing to see here. Don’t you have a whore to fuck?

An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 5

It’s a wrap, folks! Absolutely no more stuff from the past now. This is Part 5, the final part, of my open letter to Cousinfucker.

Sam, let’s try to figure out a way to make this less stressful for all involved. I am saddened that you felt compelled to toss out all of my memories and my clothing.  There are so few of them in this house.  In spite of all that has happened we have a history and that cannot be erased no matter how badly you want it to go away.  So you have a choice.  You can be bitter and hateful toward me, or respect the fact that I am setting you free of the burden of being my wife.  I know you will take a hit financially but you will be well provided for, we both know that.  My attorney has you covered for the rest of your life.

So stop all of this foolishness.  Let our children know I love them and let’s act like adults and come to a healthy relationship apart from all of this.  I respect you as a mother and you have followed me around the country and I am grateful to you for that.  Let’s build a future relationship that we can both be happy for each other and our children and show them that happiness and being whole are vital to a person’s future.  I read everything you wrote on your fake Facebook page.  I know you have been very unhappy.  It’s evident in what you wrote and your depression has heightened in the past two years.  I know you will be whole without me, we aren’t good together.  So all that said I want you and I to work on this.  To be grown up about it for the sake of our children.

You talked about us having a history together as though that should mean something.  Let me ask you then:  Did you care about our “history” together when you started up your sick affair with your cousin yet again?  Did you think about our history when you took money out of OUR checking and savings account and handed it over to your mistress?  Did you think about our history when you looked me right in the eye and lied to me about where you were going?  Did you think about our history when you asked me to send you pictures of my boobs with your “girlfriend” right there by your side?  Did our 21 year history ever enter your mind the first time you met up with her and fucked her?  I’m going to go with a solid no.  You thought only of yourself and tossed me and your children aside for a piece of ass. I’m not going to get suckered into dwelling on our history. I’m more concerned with the present and with my children’s future. Do you want to know what our history looks like to me?

It’s been one long merry go round that has revolved around me continually picking up the pieces for you, stroking your ego, and pretending that nothing ever bothers me because you can’t handle it and ended with you fucking around with your cousin not once, but twice! Well, really, three times. You half heartedly “confessed”, promised to end things with her, and then sniffed her out 2 weeks later, letting me make an idiot out of myself all summer long while you and your cousin “envisioned your future” together.  I’ve let you suck the joy out of birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries; I readjusted my expectations because you didn’t feel the need to celebrate.  I’ve spent years listening to you bitch and moan about how no one in your family loves you, cares about you or was ever there for you.  Oh poor me; no one showed up at the airport when I came home from the war.  Poor me.  My sister couldn’t even be bothered to drive 10 minutes to have a cup of coffee with me when I flew thousands of miles to be here; I don’t think I’ll ever forgive her for that.  Poor me.  I spent about 5 minutes with her the entire weekend, appeared in none of the wedding pictures and almost missed her wedding because she sent me out on a liquor run after insisting that it was *so* important that I be at her third wedding. Oh, poor me.  I don’t know who my daddy is.  But when I would tell you to let them know that they had hurt you or you didn’t like it your response was always, “Oh, I’d never let them know they hurt me.”  I’ve put up with your so called issues far past the point most women would have.  I’ve been the one picking up the pieces when you’re falling apart because things weren’t going your way. I’ve been the one being strong because as you put it, “Only one of us can be crazy and that’s me.”  I’m the one slapping a smile on my face no matter what because my husband can’t deal with any kind of adversity. I was never allowed to be angry or unhappy because that was your domain and you couldn’t handle it if I ever expressed anything other than sheer joy.

I had an under the counter can opener that didn’t work but that I put up with for years because I knew that if I told you it didn’t work I would immediately hear, “I’m sorry I’m so bad at picking out gifts.  I can’t do anything right.  I’m sorry I’m such a horrible husband!”  It’s a freaking can opener, Cousinfucker!  Just go buy another one; they’re what- $20?  Stop wallowing in self pity!

I’m the one who was telling you it would all be ok every time you freaked out about something small and turned it into a huge issue- like the time our daughter snuck her guinea pig into a restaurant (We’re going to have to pay for everyone’s meals and the Health Department is going to shut this place down and we’ll have to pay thousands in fines!) or when the air conditioner wasn’t working (That’s going to cost us $1500 to fix! Yeah, it was like $250).

I’m the one that stood by you when you lost your job. Hell, I was expected to put a big ol’ smile on my face then, too, because you were “stressed”.  I was 9 months pregnant and due to give birth at any moment but I’m the one that needed to be strong for you!  I even covered for you to our families because you were too embarrassed to admit what happened.

You’re lying on the bed, curled up in the fetal position when the buyout offer came in on our house after we had already moved and I’m the one calling your mentor and trying to fix things.

I was the one stroking your ego just a year ago, telling you how awesome you were and how everyone at the top wanted you here to fix things when you were whining and downtrodden over the fact that your boss might not give into your desire to switch over to uniforms.  “Don’t you worry!  You’re the best!  Everyone is on your side.  If he won’t let you do what you want to do then go over his head.  You’re in charge! You were hand picked!”

I’m the one that’s covered for you, time and time again, to friends and family when you’ve blown them off.

I’ve been the one moving all across the country in support of your dreams and your goals.

I was the one who was always your biggest cheerleader, biggest supporter. I’m the one who was by your side these last twenty years.

I’m the one who ate the damn show lettuce at the company Christmas party so you didn’t look like a country bumpkin because you didn’t know enough to not eat it.

Who flew across the country and had his car transported to our new location and who DROVE over 2000 miles across the country with two kids, 3 dogs, 2 cats, and a fish?  That would be ME!

I flew my niece out to ride with me because I knew you’d be a basket case trying to make it across the country with our pets in the car, based on your reaction every time we had to load them into the van for an hour when we were showing the house.  I ended up driving the last 10 hours on a faulty engine that could have given out on me at any minutes and with a bell dinging incessantly the entire time.  “I’ve got to get to our new home; I can’t wait for an actual repair.  Our furniture will be delivered tomorrow and Cousinfucker can’t possibly be expected to oversee that all by himself!”

And hey, who took on the majority of showing the house and getting everything done with the move?  Oh yes, that would be me, too.

I’m the one who would take our kids to see YOUR family.

I’m the one who took on all the childcare because you didn’t want to be bothered. Do you realize that in 15 years of being a father you’ve been left alone with both of your children for more than a few hours only twice?  And the first time didn’t happen until they were 10 and 12!

I excused behavior and let you get away with way too much. I catered to you and babied you; you couldn’t even manage to put a frozen pizza in the oven once we got married, much less put away your own clothes. For the love of God I tell you I know you’re cheating on me with your cousin and you ask me 30 minutes later, “Are we still having spaghetti tonight?”

I let you watch TV in peace and quiet while I dealt with toddlers upstairs because it would irritate you when they would make noise and interrupt your television show. I still remember you telling me, “I’ve only got five minutes left of this show and it’s taken me twenty minutes to watch it!” Oh the horrors!

I fixed your plate every night and brought it to you and then would come and take the dirty dishes away for you. On the rare occasions that I would go out in the evening I would either make your dinner or run out and grab something for you to eat because you couldn’t leave the comfort of the bedroom and all I would hear is how you didn’t eat a thing!  And actually expecting you to get dinner for the kids?  Oh, that wasn’t going to happen.  Either I did it or it didn’t get done. Before the kids and I would leave on vacation or to visit family for the holidays (you know- those things you never felt inclined to participate in) I would add to my already long list of things to do by going out and buying you groceries, things you could easily eat with little to no effort on your part, and making sure all of your laundry was done.  Poor helpless Cousinfucker couldn’t manage to go to a grocery store or stop at a fast food restaurant to buy something to eat and again all I would hear is how you were starving.

I made excuses for your behavior to your children. I never pushed, never complained, never made demands.  I was never a high maintenance wife and pretty much went with the flow.  You didn’t want to go with me and the kids on vacations or regular everyday outings?  OK, I’ve got it.  You didn’t want to come out for the holidays?  OK, I’ve got it.  You don’t want to go to our kids’ meets/games?  OK, I’ve got it.  You don’t want to go to parent/teacher conferences?  OK, I’ve got it. You don’t want to socialize with other couples or go out and do stuff together because of your “anxiety”?  That’s ok, baby; I understand.  You don’t want to go with me to either of my grandmother’s funerals or my stepdad’s funeral?  That’s ok; I’ll go on my own.

And yet I drove 26 straight hours to be with you when your dad died. Boarded up 2 dogs at two different places, finished up all the laundry, packed for myself and 2 kids, loaded them in the car and then drove all night to be by your side. Quick question:  Where were your sister, your best friend and your mistress when your dad died?  I missed seeing them at the funeral.  Oh, that’s right; they couldn’t be bothered.

I partnered with a man who was never much of a partner to me, and never much of a father to our kids and who yet somehow sees himself as a victim in all of this.  I’ve spent the last 6 months making psychiatrist and therapist appointments for you, going with you to all your therapy, trying to cover up your drinking problem, promising to stand by you throughout all of this. I was up at the psych ward every single day during visiting hours and asked questions when you wouldn’t, gave the doctors and nurses information when you were hallucinating because you wouldn’t, had my family drive to come visit you because you asked for them, and ran out and bought books and magazines and gum and whatever else you asked for to alleviate your boredom.  Turns out all you need to do to cure anxiety and PTSD is to start screwing your cousin!  You should probably alert the VA.

Thanks so much for offering to be happy for me in the future.  Considering the fact that I’m not the one lying, cheating, moving you across the country only to stab you in the back, and giving all of our money to another man and his kids, that’s really nice of you, and probably very easy to do. Oh, and let’s not forget you are now diverting over half of your paycheck to a separate account, leaving me to pay all of the household bills out of the part you’re giving to me while you take more than half and blow it all on your girlfriend and her kids.  You have no bills aside from your American Express card and what you’ve taken on for your girlfriend.  You’re living here without contributing anything to the bills knowing full well that what you’re giving to me does not cover our bills, much less provide groceries for your kids, the ones you claim to love so much.  Yes, I’m sure you would like for me to be happy for you.  That would alleviate any smidgeon of guilt you may be feeling for your boorish behavior.  Or at least keep up your public persona.  No, no, I’m not a bad guy!  See?  It’s all ok!  My ex-wife is happy for me!  I’ve done nothing wrong!  She is completely happy that I leave her and the kids behind every weekend to go have sex with another woman who happens to be my cousin!  She’s fine with the fact that I lied and schemed and plotted to move my entire family across the country so I could resume my affair with my cousin!  She has no problem with the fact that I’m walking away from my wife and kids after buying a new house, a new car, brand new furniture for the new house, and putting in a $57,000 pool, which we had promised the kids and was a condition of moving here, and leaving them broke!  Yeah, I’m not ok with any of that and I’m not going to pretend that I am.  That doesn’t make me bitter or hateful.  It simply means I’m tired of pretending that your selfish behavior is acceptable.

In conclusion, I realize I must be civil towards you and I will be; however, I have no desire to be your friend or to have any kind of a “new and future” relationship. Maybe, if you had come to me and told me you weren’t happy and it was time to end things, we could have formed a new relationship sometime in the future. Maybe, if you had ended things based solely on feeling like we could never be happy, we might have been able to form a new relationship. But that’s not what you did.  You didn’t decide you were unhappy enough to get out until you started running down to Kentucky and having sex with your cousin every weekend.  You didn’t leave because “we’re no good together”.  Or even because of my Facebook page. You left because you have someone else; you left because you are having an affair and think the grass is going to be greener with her. I prefer not to be friends with people who lie and cheat and stab me in the back.  I realize that’s the norm in your family but it’s not the norm in mine.  I have no respect for you after what you’ve done to all of us and your happiness is the furthest thing from my mind right now; I’m much more focused on my kids and their happiness and what their lives are going to be like now that you’ve walked out on us.  I have not and will not talk badly about you to the kids but I’m not covering for you anymore either. If they’ve got questions I’m going to tell them to call you and ask you themselves; if you choose to lie to them that’s on you.  It’s not my job to make you look good, especially when you continue to make such selfish choices.  You keep talking about these kids and their future but where are you in their present?  You’re absent and once again passing the blame onto someone else. You write a really nice tale, probably coached by someone, but the reality is the only person you’re concerned with is yourself.

I know there will probably be people who think I should have sent this. It might have felt good in the moment but ultimately it wouldn’t have done any good. He’s all about himself. He’s an entitled asshole. He was justified in doing what he did. He’s surrounded himself with people who tell him exactly that. This would have all been an ego boost to him. So, I kept it and I published it here.

A Christmas Miracle

I got my alimony check! In full! It is a Christmas miracle.

I was out shopping yesterday when my mother called to tell me I had received a check. “Guess how much?” she asked me. I groaned and replied, “Fifty dollars?” Nope! He actually sent me the whole amount.

Turns out there’s more to the story than just that but it’s going to have to wait for another day. We have a house full of family so it’s time to socialize with them instead of hanging out on my blog. Have a Merry Christmas!