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.

6 thoughts on “An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 5

  1. I have read several blogs written by men who have had affairs. Every single one of them suffered from depression. They all used the affairs to give them a high that they could not get otherwise. As soon as the honeymoon period is over he is going right back to who he was. He is not going to be any happier or “unhappier” then he was originally.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m somehow not surprised. I use creative writing to get the never-ending cycle of self-abuse to quiet down and occasionally play video games to temporarily make me feel like less of a failure. I guess other people stick their dicks in relatives. I’m going to use this the next time someone tells me that I’m not coping “correctly.”

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    2. Their honeymoon has been going on for almost three years now. I don’t think he suffers from depression. I think he’s an entitled asshole who will never truly be happy. But as I said to Sophia, I hope this lasts forever because I need him working and sending me money. Sad, alcoholic, non-employed CF is not appealing to me, and I fear that is what will happen if Harley dumps his ass once the money runs out. Personally I don’t care if he’s happy or unhappy. I just want him working.

      Liked by 2 people

  2. I second Moi’s take on this. If he’s been able to pull this off for all this time nonstop the explosion from within when he can’t be Clark Gable a minute longer is going to be epic and destructive as hell. I imagine he’s already a pressure cooker because having to be “on” 24/7 in what is essentially a role very different from who he really is has to be eating him alive. Pretending to be something and someone you’re not has an expiration date. I never thought for a moment he’s happy. I think he’s in hell of his own making and it couldn’t have happened to a bigger bastardo, but I bet his pride will never let you get a whiff of it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh dear! I hope he does stay with her. If his life implodes, unfortunately, it affects me and the kids way too much. Far better for him to be convinced he’s deliriously happy with Harley and working, than for their relationship to take a dive and he ends up drinking and fired again.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I wouldn’t worry about it Sam, because like that old deodorant commercial used to say: “Never let them see you sweat”. He’s never going to admit defeat and you give you the Win on “I’m so fucking happy with my new life!” . Nope. He ain’t gonna do it, but based on your latest post the roses aren’t quite so fragrant anymore when he has time to be chit chatting with a new woman.
        WINNING!👹

        Liked by 1 person

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