Game Over, CF!

My former therapist once told me that I should go on to become a PI because I’m very good at finding things out. I am. I’m not going to become a PI but I am very good at playing the sleuth. I’m tenacious.

Because of my tenacious spirit I can say with certainty that CF and/or Harley hacked my Facebook page. Oh sure, all the circumstantial evidence was pointing that way- the fact he had unfriended Bob, then the stern conversation he had with Bob regarding our private FB messenger conversations. It’s not like it was in doubt, but I had no proof. Until now.

I did a little Google search, watched a short YouTube video, followed directions and downloaded an archive, and voila- the IP address appeared. Plugged it into an IP address finder website and BAM! What to my wandering eye should appear but the asshole ex’s new city and state! And their internet provider. Gotcha!

It didn’t pinpoint it to an actual home address but come on; how many people in his city are concerned with my FB page? It is all the proof I need and all the proof I think my lawyer would need. Game over, Cousinfucker! Do not fuck with me.

Why Are You So Obsessed With Me?

Mean Girls, right? That’s what I want to ask Cousinfucker and Harley. Why are you so obsessed with me and what I’m doing? First, he hacks my FB page. I have no doubt it was one of them now.

“Bob” told me the other evening that CF had sent him a strongly worded message, taking him to task for the things he had said about Jezebel and Pastor Fake in our private conversations on FB messenger. So yeah, he was rooting around. Don’t know how. Don’t care.

Then he sends the mobster text messages, congratulating him on our “engagement” and telling him he’s seen naked pictures of me all over the Internet.

He goes out of his way to print images on his envelopes to me, thinking somehow I am going to be offended by being called a grinch or a robber. Hint: I’m not. It just gives me more stuff to write about and mock him for.

Now he’s signing me up for all these random, stupid things like female sex enhancement products and raw, natural made products.

And, this may just be a weird coincidence but I’ve had two friend requests from widowed men, both of whom are from out of the country but now live in the U.S.

That’s not even taking into account the text messages he’s bombarding Rock Star with, the fact that he’s been in contact with the mobster’s STBX, or that he’s trying to paint false equivalencies between the two of us.

I know it’s a small thing in the overall picture. I should let it go. He’s trying to goad me into a reaction and the best reaction I can possibly give him is no reaction at all. That must really piss him off. But there are definitely times I want to poke that bear. Hard!

Several people have said it’s turning into harassment. I continue to debate whether or not it’s worth it to say something to my lawyer and get some kind of restraining order, or if I just need to push it to the side and ignore it.

Chump Lady maintains they only have three channels- rage, pity and charm. So far I’ve seen lots of pity and some moderate amounts of rage. I’m not sure what stalking falls under. Rage, perhaps? When do I get charm? Bueller? Bueller? Anyone? Bueller?

Another Text

I don’t know what it is with these people. Are they desperate for a response? Upset I won’t play? Love drama?

Rock Star was contacted by her dad and Pastor Fake days after Christmas. Both wanted to let her know that Tammy Faye was in the hospital; she has been put on dialysis because her kidneys are failing. I believe it was Pastor Fake who went so far as to tell her that he was letting her know so that she wouldn’t have any regrets. My daughter told me she was very tempted to write back: I won’t.

Jeez Louise, people! You help destroy this kid’s life and instead of, oh, I don’t know, apologizing, you try to pile on the guilt!

When her dad was doing his, “I know you hate me but your grandmother has done nothing to you!” routine, Rock Star replied to me, “She has, too! She set this all in motion, and even if she hadn’t she’s still okay with what he’s doing.”

Rock on, Rock Star! As she told me, “Sorry you’re just now learning about consequences.”

That’s what it all boils down to, isn’t it? They all want to be free to make whatever choices they want, whatever makes them feel good. Then when things don’t work out quite like they expected they play poor me and expect everyone to feel sorry for them and tell them everything is forgiven.

Tammy Faye chose to support her son. She, a confessed Christian who couldn’t skip a day of church, chose to support her son while he cheated on me. She happily tagged along to a funeral where CF introduced the whore as his new fiancee, knowing full well that I was completely unaware of what was going on. She chose to continue a relationship with the whore even knowing about their emotional affair from 2013. She chose her son and his whore and the whore’s kids over her own grandchildren. Each. And. Every. Time.

So Tammy Faye, I hope for your sake that the whore is visiting regularly. I hope she brings her kids to the hospital and they call you Granny and tell you how much they love you. I hope that in the end when you realize your two flesh and blood grandchildren aren’t anywhere around while you’re dying that you still feel like the payoff was worth it. I hope you’re able to come to the end of your life, look around the room, and say with sincerity, “Yes, it was all worth it. I sacrificed Rock Star and Picasso but I have my son, his gold digging whore, and her four kids in exchange. I came out ahead in the deal.” Because if not? Sorry to say that’s how consequences work.

Gone, Mother, Gone

Ah, my first official post in 2018. This may not be the first one posted but it is the first one written.

So what am I up to on this exciting Friday night? Nothing much really. I’m sitting here, responding to people on Facebook, planning my weekend, and trying to write a post.

I’m also thinking about the fact that it is Friday night and as of about 20 minutes ago (it’s 10:18 right now) I have seen my daughter for the first time since Tuesday.

You may be asking yourself why that is. I will tell you. I went to work on Wednesday. She left to go to work before I got home from my job. I went to bed before she got home. Thursday I went to work. She was home all day long and then went with her cheerleading team to some team bonding event all night. She left before I got home and was gone all night. Today I went to work. She had a basketball game to cheer at and she left before I got home. Had I gone to bed before 10 I wouldn’t have seen her until tomorrow. Life as a working mom can sometimes suck. Big time.

It’s time like this that I really start to feel immense anger towards CF. My kids were used to having their mom around. My kids’ activities didn’t affect the amount of time I got to see them because I was home when they were home. If they were gone all evening it was okay because I had seen them earlier. He took that away from them. I can’t even say that it was for a great cause. I work to pay my bills. I’m not passionate about my job. I don’t think of it as a career. I leave my kids every day for $11.50/hour. I go three days without seeing my daughter because our lives are run completely opposite. When she’s home I’m at work; when I’m home she’s off doing her own thing.

I suppose I could be zen and tell myself that I’m merely prepping for next year when she’s away at college and I will go weeks, if not months, without seeing her. But it’s bullshit. This is her senior year. She’s still at home. I shouldn’t go three days without seeing my kid.

This is what he’s done to us. He’s taken my kids’ mother away from them. When people talk about divorce being no big deal, how they (the adult) is so much better off without that person, their new life is so much happier, these are the things they don’t think about. They don’t think about the kids who are used to having their parent around all the time, who can count on their parent to take them to school, pick them up, be there when their club or sport is finished, to be home with them during vacation or snow days. I used to fix my kids breakfast in the morning. I don’t do that anymore because it would require me to get up much earlier and my mornings are already chopped up, what with having to take one to school and then coming home to finish getting ready.

The mobster and I were talking about this on my morning commute today. I said that if I was still married I would be with my kids during their Christmas vacation. We’d probably be going off on some grand adventure while they were home. If either or both of them had something to do in the evening it wouldn’t be a big deal because I would have been home with them all day. I went on to say that I wouldn’t be as happy as I am now but they would be.

That was the consensus. Divorce has opened new doors for the two of us. We have found in each other what was lacking in our spouses. But it would have been better for our kids if we had stayed together. In his case, of course, it would have been better if BSC had gotten sober and they had stayed together.

I do realize that my kids will survive. They will be fine. It won’t kill them to have to fix their own breakfast and own lunch. It won’t kill Rock Star to have to help me out by transporting her brother back home. It won’t kill Picasso to have to do some dishes. That’s not the point, though. I never wanted this for them. It sucks that it has been foisted on them.

I’ll get over it. Tomorrow I’ll probably take them out to breakfast and plan my menu for the week and go grocery shopping and do laundry. It will be an amazing weekend! <<< That’s sarcasm. I hate laundry. But I do like breakfast, so that part will be okay.

They don’t seem any worse for wear. I’m just having a moment of self pity. I’ll get past it.

All Of Me

I’ve written before about the song “All Of Me”. That was the song I deemed “our” song back in 2014. The summer of 2013 was the summer of Pink’s “Just Give Me A Reason”. It was a silent plea to restore our marriage and to give us another chance as a couple. We’re not broken; we’re just bent. Yeah, about that…

The following summer came John Legend’s ode to his bride, “All Of Me”. That was our new song. We were better. We were fixed. We were stronger than ever. Loving. Affectionate. Running errands together. He loved all of me, all my curves and all my edges, all my perfect imperfections. I loved that song. It was haunting and beautiful. Who wouldn’t want to be someone’s muse? The love he feels for his wife pours out of that song. I thought that was us.

The summer after that had no theme song. Just a cold, cruel discovery that I had been completely duped. Duped into moving across the country. Duped into ripping my kids’ lives apart. Duped into believing him.

Those days are two years in the past but I can still remember them like they were yesterday. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely function. I had enough brain power to play Candy Crush, write, and watch TV.

The day came that I was laying on the couch, watching Baby Daddy, when Brad proposed to Bonnie by singing “All Of Me” in a flash mob. I couldn’t do it. I had to fast forward through it because it was just too painful to listen to that song. It was like a knife in the gut, torturing me. Here was this song I loved and I couldn’t bear to hear it anymore.

Until only recently I couldn’t listen to that song. I would cringe when it came on at work and there was no way to change the station. If I was in the car I would change the station. I skipped by it on my iPod. Then I decided I wasn’t going to let that jackass take one more thing from me. And then the mobster sent a YouTube link to me. He likes to send me song lyrics that remind him of me and of us. It was that song.

What would I do without your smart mouth?

Drawing me in and you kicking me out

Got my head spinning,

no kidding, I can’t pin you down

What’s going on in that beautiful mind

I’m on your magical mystery ride

And I’m so dizzy, don’t know what hit me,

but I’ll be alright

My head’s under water

but I’m breathing fine

You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind

‘Cause all of me

Loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me

I’ll give my all to you

You’re my end and my beginning

Even when I lose I’m winning

‘Cause I give you all of me

And you give me all of you

How many times do I have to tell you

Even when you’re crying

you’re beautiful too?

The world is beating you down,

I’m around through every mood

You’re my downfall,

you’re my muse

My worst distraction

My rhythm and blues

I can’t stop singing, it’s

ringing, in my head for you

My head’s under water

but I’m breathing fine

You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind

‘Cause all of me

Loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me

I’ll give my all to you

You’re my end and my beginning

Even when I lose I’m winning

‘Cause I give you all of me

And you give me all of you

Oh, Give me all of you

Cards on the table, we’re

both showing hearts

Risking it all,

though it’s hard

‘Cause all of me

Loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me

I’ll give my all to you

You’re my end and my beginning

Even when I lose I’m winning

‘Cause I give you all, all of me

And you give me all, all of you

I give you all, all of me

And you give me all,

all of you, oh

So now that’s one of our songs. It no longer reminds me of CF and our relationship. It reminds me of my mobster.

When we were at the beach he turned on his playlist and that song began playing. We danced in the hotel room and smiled as we gazed into each other’s eyes. I know; I know. We’re sickeningly sweet. People have been known to barf around us. Nonetheless, I got a bit teary eyed listening to that song with him. I told him in a choked up voice, “Thank you for giving me that song back. I really loved it.”

When I vowed to not let that asshole who stole 20+ years of my life from me take one more thing from me I thought I’d be able to listen to some of my favorite songs again. That was it; that was the main goal. The mobster, on the other hand, had different plans for me. He actually gave me that song back. He made it mean something again. No longer does that song make me think of CF and our shitty marriage that I thought was all shiny and new and repaired after infidelity. It makes me think about my mobster. It makes me think about our relationship- one that is new and shiny, one where the future is bright because it hasn’t been marred by cheating and lies. It’s not a song trying to convince me we’ll be okay after a horrible betrayal. It’s a song from a man who is telling me he loves all of me; he’ll give his all to me. I inspire him. And that is what that song should have meant all along.

P.S. In case anyone was left wondering, I feel the exact same way about the mobster.