For the Low, Low Price of a Kimono Robe

I have a good new/bad news situation going on. The good news is CF has been sniffing around lately; the bad news is CF has been sniffing around lately.

Seems that since CF modified his child support payment on his own he has a bit more in his pockets and for some reason he’s choosing to spend that on his daughter. He asked her if there was anything she needed and coughed up $200 to go towards a new laptop and then ordered some sheets, a body pillow cover, and decorative pillows that she wanted for her room.

The other day a package came in the mail. It was a white waffle weave cotton kimono type robe with her name embroidered on it in pink. She later tells me he’s also sending her a tumbler. She doesn’t know why because she didn’t ask for either of the two latter gifts. I have my suspicions.

First the good news. I recognize that it is generally a good thing when a child has two involved parents. I know that basically being abandoned has been difficult on Rock Star. I think I pointed out once before that both kids were extremely pissed off at their father; I feel comfortable saying they would have loved to have lashed out and hurt him, rejected him, told him they wanted no part of him and his whore cousin. That was stolen from them. How can she possibly reject him when he has already rejected her?

On a selfish level for my own self every dollar he gives her and every item he buys her is one less thing I have to purchase. Rock Star is going away to college and she acts like she now must furnish a 2500 square foot home. Apparently they no longer provide linens at the college. You must buy them. She also needs a comforter, a mattress pad, storage units, a shower caddy, more towels…. you get the picture. It can all easily add up. I’m just thankful I won’t need to do it all over again next year!

If he wants to toss $200, $300, $400 her way, be my guest! I don’t want to get my hopes up but I’m hoping she will tell him she needs an extra thousand or two to pay for tuition and he’ll be willing to help her with that as well.

Unfortunately, we all know what happens when you take money from the devil. He owns your soul.

I hope that Rock Star can maintain her boundaries and resists the lure of easy money because here is the bad news: I don’t trust him.

This is a man who calculated child support for her down to the half hour on her graduation day. I don’t need the extra few dollars that actually paying through the entire day would have brought me, but there is something seriously wrong with a man who does that and then turns around and wants to lavish gifts upon her. He wants to be seen as a hero and not as the selfish, greedy ass that cut his daughter off seconds after she walked across that stage, diploma in hand.

This is a man who still has not sent his son a birthday card, much less an actual gift.

This is a man who wrote his old address on her most recent cards instead of having to admit he had moved with the new fam. I know this because I noticed an envelope addressed to him. At first I thought it was a thank you note but upon closer inspection it was obvious it was a graduation announcement. I suppose he asked for one after buttering her up with cash and gifts, and she obliged. I had to laugh and tell her that the address was incorrect. It was then that she told me it was the one on her cards. “The ones he just gave you?” I asked incredulously. Oh, yeah. That’s how I know he put the old address on the cards he gave her for graduation and her birthday this year.

Go ahead and call me a bitch because I told her he had moved his new family into a new house over a year ago, one that looked very much like our old house in Virginia. I’m not sure she knows yet that he got remarried. If she does she has not said anything.

I have been honest with my kids when asked questions. I have not rushed in to tell them things that would hurt them. I am not infallible. I did disclose, very early on, the fact he had made waffles for not-his-kids. I finally did tell Rock Star about the $300 dress he bought for Harley’s daughter after she was looking online and planned to order a dress from China so that it wouldn’t cost much. At that point I said, “Oh no! If your dad can spend $300 on not-his-kid’s dress, he can spend that kind of money on yours. You will have a nice dress.” I did not, however, reveal that the same month he didn’t have the money to buy her a Homecoming dress, he had $4200 to spend on an engagement ring for Harley. I might have mentioned he promised her daughter a car; I think I did, but I’m not sure. I don’t believe I ever told them about the puppies he bought for her kids, although I might have. I never outright told them that while they were learning to do without he was sharing a bank account with Harley and she was blowing through five grand a month on herself and her kids. Maybe they never really thought about where all of his extra money was going, but if they did I’m sure they could have figured it out. I never told them about how he spent exactly the same amount of money on them at Christmas that first year as he did on his fake kids, or him going to Show-n-Tell with her son, or celebrating their birthdays out at dinner with them, or playing hero daddy at the hospital, or going to the zoo with his new family, or wearing a t-shirt with not-his-kid’s school mascot, or how he told someone he felt it was very important to show up and support not-his-kid at her competition, or going on family vacations with them. Up until the other day I didn’t reveal that he had moved them into a nice new home that looked like our old home, complete with a neighborhood pool. I also didn’t tell them he had flown to Vegas to marry Harley.

No, I didn’t tell them these things because I figured it would only hurt them.

Also, contrary to the narrative that the betrayed wife must always be bad-mouthing the ex and spreading vicious rumors and lies, I said little about him. As Chump Lady would advise: I gave facts; I did not editorialize. Your dad is in Kentucky with his girlfriend. Yes, his family knows about it; yes, they’re okay with it. Your dad lost his job; we are going to have to move because he is not sending me anymore money. Back when he was still paying no support (followed by what he felt like paying once he got a job): No, I cannot take you shopping; my two jobs pay our bills and allow us to eat. Now: I cannot do this/buy that until I get the support money. Once I get the back support your dad owes me I can help you with buying a car; I cannot do it until then. We cannot fly down to Orlando because I did not receive the alimony or child support in time.

Small side rant: When I took the parenting class that was court ordered way back in the beginning, one of the things the instructors cautioned against was talking about child support. I think that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I believe there is a difference between complaining about the amount you receive (We can’t have nice things because your parent is a cheapskate that fucked me over in court!) and letting them know certain things will have to wait until you receive the money you are court ordered to receive. In that respect it’s no different than telling your kid you can’t buy them the new X-Box or go to the movies until after payday. I have already said that my days as his PR manager are over. I’m not falling on my sword to protect him, and in that case, I’m not hurting my children by being truthful. FYI: I have never asked that man for a dime above and beyond what he is ordered to pay me. My kids will never hear me say, “I would buy you X but your dad won’t give me any more money. I guess he’s too busy spending it all on his new kids.” Nope, never! I will, however, without one bit of guilt, tell them we cannot do something because he has not sent me the support yet. Rant over.

Not only did I not badmouth him I will also once again point out that I actually reminded them of things he had done with them, trips he had taken with us, times he had way more patience with them than I did.

You want to know who badmouths the other parent? Big twist- it’s him! He has never missed a chance to bash me and try to make himself out to be the victim.
And that scares the shit out of me.

Each and every time he has come around looking for sympathy Rock Star has shot it right back at him he’s responded with: Let me tell you about how bad your mom is.

To date the excuses are I never loved him and I never took care of him with the added bonus that one day he’d like to talk to her about all of that.

He even pulled that crap with Picasso his first weekend back after being outed. I had taken all of his money. I had a lawyer and he didn’t. Yes, he had a girlfriend but it was okay because we had grown apart.

When Rock Star went off on him about Harley posting on Facebook about how much she missed the comfort she had grown so used to, i.e. I miss having my married lover in my bed, he sprung into defense. “I don’t know who told you this, or what you think you saw, but she’s not like that. She wouldn’t do anything like that.” Yes, it must be me spreading horrible lies to my children and not his beloved whore actually behaving like a whore. Even worse is the fact that once she sent him a screenshot of what Harley had posted he ignored that. He cried that he hadn’t been lying; he had truthfully never seen that. Never confronted the fact that Harley did indeed post such crap, just said he hadn’t seen it.

So this is what I think is happening and how I see it playing out. I believe he thinks that now she is 18 she is suddenly independent and out from under my thumb. I think he figures that once she’s off to college he can communicate with her and she won’t say anything to me (or more likely that I can’t check her phone, not that I do that anyway). My guess is that he’ll continue to offer money and gifts, and then eventually he’ll ask about coming up for a weekend so they can spend some time together.

Maybe he’ll rush right into his big defense; maybe he’ll give it a visit or two. Eventually though I think he will try to start spreading his own narrative. He’ll do his best to paint me as the perpetrator and himself as the victim. I was a horrible wife. We weren’t well suited for each other. He hadn’t been happy in years. I treated him like a wallet and a handyman. I never loved him. I didn’t take care of him. I didn’t care about his PTSD. I was only in it for the money and the lifestyle. You know the drill. I was awful and evil and he was my poor, bullied victim so what else could he do when this angel of love and understanding appeared before him? It was fate. He’s happy now. Don’t you want him to be happy, Rock Star? Isn’t everything so much better this way? Forget about your shattered life- the end of gymnastics, leaving behind the only life and friends that you remember, being moved thousands and then hundreds of miles twice in two years, leaving behind all of your new friends and this great life you had formed for yourself, moving in with your grandmother, having no home of your own, having to start all over your junior year of high school, not getting your license on time, feeling like you were nobody, basically losing your mom because she worked 50-60 hours a week, having few friends in this new place, having a crappy graduation party because no one knows you here. The end result is I’m happy and isn’t that what’s important? Now let’s talk some more about how your mom sucks and she’s the real reason you’ve suffered through all of that!

I know my daughter pretty well. I would like to believe that she wouldn’t fall for his crap and wouldn’t even entertain it.

“No, Dad, my mom doesn’t talk about you. She doesn’t go around telling us about all your faults as a husband. She gives us facts when we ask; facts that can actually be verified. She doesn’t badmouth you. She has actually defended you. YOU are the one that is constantly badmouthing her.”

There is always that possibility though that she will be so ecstatic that he is finally paying attention to her that she’ll allow herself to be bought over with the lies. He’s a pretty good liar; I mean he convinced me to move 20 hours closer to his mistress. I bought the pack of lies about how Anne was some crazy stalker that he had tried to help. I believed him when he said Harley was the biggest mistake of his life. If I could be fooled in my 40s, how can I be certain my daughter won’t be fooled when she’s only 18? He’s her father, for crying out loud. Much like I wanted to believe him back then I’m sure she wants to believe him, too.

As I said a few days ago I can accept her having a relationship with him, even if he’s telling her lies about me. I would like to believe she would ask me about it and not just run with it.

I can accept her having a relationship with him even though I sincerely believe he won’t be content just having a relationship once again with his child. I believe he wants to destroy me in the process. Call me crazy but he’s acted like the victim throughout this entire ordeal. Again, I will have to trust that my daughter is smart enough to see through that. To be able to look back on her own life experiences with him. To remember which one of us was always there and which one abandoned her.

Unfortunately, in addition to him trying to destroy me, what I see happening is him trying to slowly integrate Harley into Rock Star’s life as well. If he’s looking to destroy me what could be a better way than to find out my children think the whore is fantastic?

“She’s really nice. She really wants to meet you. She cares about you and your brother. It has broken her heart that you haven’t given her a chance. I know you’ll love her. She’s great. Can’t you just give her a chance? One meeting. That’s all I’m asking for.”

If that happens and she acquiesces that is the point at which you will see my head spinning faster than Linda Blair’s in The Exorcist.

I cannot and will not accept that. My kids were old enough to know the hell I went through because of her. They are old enough to remember the upheaval they experienced because of her. Yes, I know he was my husband but he’s also their father and I may have to eventually accept the possibility of them having a relationship with him. I do not have to accept it with her so she’s the one I’m focusing on. That bitch knew he was married, knew we had just moved, knew I had followed him all around the goddamn country and had been a stay at home mom for the last 15 years. She knew I had no way of supporting myself or staying in my house long term. She knew that when she began her affair with him she was going to destroy my life; she knew I would be left with nothing.

She blocked my daughter after Rock Star tore into her father about his whore’s shenanigans. Didn’t apologize. Nope, she’ll just block her and post about fucking a married man until her heart’s content.

My kids are both old enough to know what the hell happened, how I was duped and betrayed, and how my life has been one long struggle since that day. They are also old enough to be able to tell their father, “I want a relationship with you but I want nothing to do with her. If you want to have a relationship with me then you’ll respect that. If not, well, looks like once again you are putting her ahead of us.”

I’ve had people tell me that’s unrealistic or to say I can’t expect them to eschew Harley while they have a relationship with the mobster. To that I say, “Balderdash!”

The mobster didn’t break up my marriage. I wasn’t cheating on their father with him. The mobster has never blocked my daughter. We’re not where we are because of the mobster.

Funny story. I hadn’t planned on introducing him to my kids anytime soon, if ever. I thought this would just be “our” relationship. It wouldn’t involve our kids at all. We’d get together here and there and talk and text, but our relationship would be with one another.

The first weekend we met up I didn’t bring him around. I don’t remember if it was that weekend, or the next time we saw each other in person, but I do know I asked him if the next time he came up to my town he would like to meet my kids. I remember explaining to him that their father had never bothered to introduce Harley to his kids; he had to keep her a secret. He had to keep both of those lives separate because of what she represented- the destruction of his kids’ lives. I didn’t want my kids thinking that dating after divorce was a big secret. I didn’t want them to think that I was ashamed of him or didn’t want them to ever meet up for some reason. I wanted to be open and honest.

I think he’s been around my kids six times now- only five for Rock Star because she wasn’t here the first time I introduced him to Picasso. I asked both of them if they were interested in meeting him, and let them both know it was completely up to them. I was willing if they wanted to, but I would understand if they would rather not. They both chose to meet him.

He and Picasso have a lot of similar interests. Ok, really they both just like to play video games. There was one time that I asked him if he would talk to Picasso about something, which he did. They occasionally text back and forth.

The mobster has been very sweet and supportive of Rock Star. He texts her before important events, wishing her good luck. He sent flowers on Valentine’s Day. He bought her a Keurig for graduation and her birthday.  She has even said it’s almost like he’s her stepdad; she said one time that she wonders if this is how it feels to actually have two supportive parents.

I don’t feel like a hypocrite when I say that while I’m fine (obviously) with the mobster being around my kids, if Harley is around them and wants to start making memories we are going to have some serious problems.

That’s what scares me. It’s not simply that he will fill Rock Star’s head with lies and try to convince her that what he did was no big deal. It’s that Harley will become a part of Rock Star’s life. I don’t worry about Picasso so much because it seems pretty apparent that CF isn’t having anything to do with him. Picasso has also surprisingly been much tougher on his dad than I ever imagined. I thought he would have a much more difficult time with everything that happened; instead he was pretty much, “I can’t ever trust my dad again,” and “My dad is dead to me.”

I worry that Harley will attempt to turn on the charm and try to buy my kid. Between her and CF they will always have more money. They can afford to give her things. I worry that she and Harley will become great buddies; they’ll go shopping together, grab lunch together, get mani-pedis together. Her and her daughter and my Rock Star can form a sweet little trio, full of inside jokes and shopping and vacations. Maybe she would wonder why I can’t make as much money as Harley does. Or she’d find herself thinking, “Hmmm…. Harley managed to work and still be involved in her kids lives. Why can’t my mom do that?” I stupidly worry that when Rock puts us side by side and compares us that I won’t measure up. And I know that’s stupid because I’m her mother and she will always love me. But as I’ve always said, “I don’t share.” I certainly am not willing to share my kids with a whore that fucked my husband.

It turns out I’m quite selfish when it comes to my kids. I realize my kids are older so they don’t require the constant supervision they would if we had divorced when they were, say, 2 and 4. But I’ve never felt jealous of those people who talk about how they have entire weekends or weeks to themselves. I’m glad I get every day with them. I’m glad I don’t have to split holidays. I get every Christmas, every Thanksgiving, every Easter, every birthday. Then again, I didn’t walk away from my kids. I didn’t move six hours away from them without saying a word. After I had already moved them.

I have to share with him. I won’t share with her. I am hoping that my daughter cannot be bought for the low, low price of a kimono robe, or even a few hundred dollars.

(A Long) P.S. I ended up talking to Rock Star right before I finished this. I warned her that with the money would come strings. She replied, “I know; that’s why I didn’t ask for much when he offered.”

I did end up telling her my fear was that as they talked he was going to start weaving his tale, playing victim and trying to make me look like the bad guy.

She’s a pretty smart cookie. She has taken screen shots of their text messages as proof that he has offered all these things. I guess he has also told her that if she ever needs anything to just ask. How kind and generous of him after all these years.

I also brought up Harley and told her it was quite possible that once her dad began sending her money that he might begin asking her to consider meeting the new wife (which as far as I know Rock Star does not realize she is his wife). She replied, “No thanks.” She is quite adamant that she doesn’t want to meet her. I asked her if she really thought it would be possible, with her dad giving her money, to stand her ground and maintain her boundaries regarding being introduced to Harley. “I’m not scared of him,” she told me. “And he’s offered all these things. That’s why I’m taking screenshots, so that if he ever tries to insinuate that I asked for this and should repay him by meeting her I’ve got proof he’s offered. I’ve got proof where he’s told me if I need anything to just ask.” Fat lot of good that will do if he’s in one of his tizzies, but it makes her feel better.

It was a good conversation. At least it alleviated some of my fears.

P.S.S. Another update. Another box of goodies. Face masks, nail polish, body scrubs, a make-up bag, a loofah, and loads of other toiletries.  He is going all out for some reason. This is the man who still has not sent his son a birthday card, much less a gift.

I did cave and told her he had married the whore. She was telling me how she thought all his comments and such were because he still loved me and couldn’t believe I had moved on. I assured her that was not the case and that he had most definitely moved on. She kept going on with the ol’, “I know but…” so I finally told her that he had gotten married. “To her?” she asked. Apparently she didn’t think it was legal to marry relatives. You would think, huh?

Anyway, she didn’t seem too affected by the news. I still wish I had kept my mouth shut, though.

Like Sands Through the Hourglass…

Why not use a soap opera intro? My life is basically a soap opera anymore anyway.

Today is the 2 year anniversary of me moving back home. Mark your calendars, people! This is the day I failed at being an adult. I moved back in with my mommy, too poor to provide for myself and my kids. I moved back to my childhood city, a place I never really wanted to move back to. It feels very much like the past twenty years were a waste. Seriously.

I’m back in the same city I lived in before I met him and we started moving all over the country. I’m working yet another low paying job. Hell, I’m probably actually poorer than I was twenty plus years ago because back then I knew I made shit for money. I didn’t have a big car payment or a cell phone payment. Mainly because cell phones were only just becoming a thing back then and not many people could afford them. I drove a Suzuki Samurai because even new it cost me a mere $188 plus change each month. I didn’t even have cable because I couldn’t afford it. I didn’t have an email address at that point in my life so there was no internet bill to worry about either. I also didn’t have two children to support. Back then I knew I couldn’t provide for a child on what I made. Today I don’t have a choice. They were thrust into this situation, too.

Sure, there have been definite changes. I have a job finally. As I’ve said many times before it pays my bills and that’s about it. Thankfully, CF has been paying child and spousal support, which is another change. When I moved here he was busy trying to convince everyone he suffered from PTSD and was opting not to pay his court ordered support. I met the love of my life thanks to my blog. That’s yet another amazing change in these past two years. I no longer cry every day. I no longer beg for death. So that’s good, I guess. My daughter is about to leave for college, which will leave the house minus one. My son is ready to begin his sophomore year.

I also want to point out that I am infinitely grateful for my mother’s generosity. I know that there are people out there in the same situation who don’t have a parent to turn to. My mother took me and my 2 teenagers and my 3 dogs into her home and allowed us to live with her instead of forcing us to live out of our car, or in crappy subsidized housing somewhere. She also does my laundry and cooks most nights, so living at home is not without its perks.

It’s still an interesting anniversary to mark. Two years since I sold off what I could, packed up very little of what remained, and left the rest behind. Two years since I left my own home, my own bed, my own room. Two years since I was forced out the new town I lived in and the state where I was born. I’ve now lived back at home as long as I lived in my last house.

Two years is an interesting amount of time to live somewhere. It’s enough time for you to start to get a feel for things. It’s enough time to start to develop a route when you drive. You look for the familiar. It’s enough time to get a hair stylist, a doctor, a dentist. You know the town. You know the restaurants. You know the schools. You get to know more people. You become more involved. Things become a little more routine.

And then it’s all ripped out from under you. In my case it was made a tad more complicated by the fact that my husband was cheating on me with his cousin and had financially cut me off right after the one year mark.

I’m not in the same dark, dismal place that I was when I moved here two years ago. Yet, I can still remember those final days. I remember going through my house and putting price tags on almost everything I had ever owned in my lifetime, in order to hold a garage sale so that I might have a little bit of money to pay for the truck and to keep us afloat while I looked for a job. I remember selling off my furniture, most of it less than a year old, and watching as strangers departed with little pieces of my old life. I remember renting that U-Haul truck and driving it back to the house. I remember checking in at Wal-Mart repeatedly to get boxes; the entire time I was married to CF we never had to worry about it. His company always paid to pack us up and move us. I remember driving to DC to pick up my brother who was coming out to help move me back. I still remember going to KFC and buying chicken for our last meal in the house. I remember loading up the truck and my brother cautioning me that we might have to leave some stuff behind. I remember the cars, mine and my mom’s, being loaded with more stuff. Rock Star and I drove together with all three dogs, while my mom and her dog went in her car, and Picasso and my brother drove the U-Haul. I remember crying as I left my neighborhood for the very last time. Finally, I remember pulling into my mother’s drive, knowing that everything I had lived for the last twenty years was over and done. This was it. This was home now.

Maybe one day this will be nothing more than another day. Sadly, at the two year mark it’s another reminder of everything that was lost and will never be regained.

Facebook Memories, Go Away!

The entire summer is a weird time for me in many ways. If I let it it could serve as one long trigger until September or later.

I know I have shared before about how I do like Facebook. I don’t post nearly as much as I used to, and I’m finding recently I’m not even on it reading quite as much, but I like it. I generally like seeing the memories that pop up. I get to relive cute stories about my kids, see what I was up to years ago, look at the pictures of my kids over the years, and recall all the fantastic trips I’ve taken and places I’ve been.

The summer though… it can be a bitch.

On one hand I see pictures of me with my kids and visiting family as we go to amusement parks, Yellowstone, Moab, water parks, etc. There we are hiking. There we are camping. Oh look how little the kids were! Queen B towers over Rock Star and all four kids are little stair steps in height. There we are celebrating the kids’ birthdays- parties and/or dinners out. There we are at the roller skating rink with the rubber nose that you squeezed and slime came out of it. There we are bowling. There’s the video of Rock Star and her teammates as the Hummer limousine pulled into the parking lot to take them to the reservoir for her party.

On the other hand there is the picture of us on the plane, getting ready to fly to Virginia to pick out a new house. There is my post about all of our lasts in Utah. There is my post about my trip from hell getting to Virginia. Oh, four years ago today we spent our first night in the new house. Look at those pictures from your vacation in Florida or your trip back out to Utah to visit friends. You had no idea your husband was in the middle of an affair and was planning on leaving you. There you are with M, the morning you left to head back to Virginia; you told the story of how the two of you met and how in a wonderful twist she was moving to Virginia, too, and you would only be three hours apart instead of 30. Too bad you didn’t realize you had been replaced and would be moving again in a year.

Every time I see those pictures of our last days in Utah back in 2014 I want to shout to that woman: Don’t go! Don’t leave! It’s a trap. He’s taking you away from all of your friends; he’s moving you closer to his mistress. He’s going to start cheating on you less than a year after you and the kids move out there. Don’t do it! Stay there!

When I see the pictures of the kids and I back in the summer of 2015 I sadly shake my head because I was so stupid, so blind. I had no idea what was coming. I can’t say I was ignorant and happy because he had amped up the crazy by that point, but I had no idea my life was about to be obliterated. There I am smiling at the camera, happy to be eating French toast at Kneader’s once again, or enjoying the beach down in Florida, and my husband is plotting against me. He’s sending his whore money and I have no idea.

The memories that crop up on June 10th, August 10th and August 14th are a little bit trickier. Sometimes I read those or see the pictures, and I think, “You had no idea how your life was about to change.” Other times, like when I see the new pictures of the mobster with me, or I know one of the pictures this year will be the freedom cake I brought in to work last year, I smile and think to myself, “It’s just another day.”

The most heartbreaking photos though are of my kids, back in the summer of 2014. The first one is of Picasso surrounded by his posse of friends. We lived in Utah. It’s a law everyone has to have four kids. I regularly had between 3 and 6 more boys in my house than I had given birth to. They spent a lot of time together. They were huddled around each other, hugging in a circle.

I know leaving Utah hurt Picasso. He cried. He didn’t think he would ever make new friends. He was a nervous wreck the night before his first day of school. He spent many months hating it there. Just as he was beginning to find his footing we had to move again.

The second picture is one that doesn’t even belong to me. It was my daughter’s and I saw it shared by one of her friends. It was the entire optional team posing one last time with Rock Star as she said her goodbyes and thanked everyone for the memories.

Gymnastics was her life. I remember all the drop offs and pickups. The way they would yell, “Bye! I love you!” to one another as they climbed into their parents’ cars and went home. I remember all the different get togethers we did as a team. The away meets and all the fun we had with those. Rock Star spent so much time in the gym that it was pretty much the only life she knew. The guest list at her birthday parties after 4th or 5th grade included her best friend from the neighborhood, and her teammates. That was it. No other classmates or girls from the neighborhood. Those girls were her friends, and they became more like family.

I see those pictures and I  want to cry. Those pictures represent everything Rock Star and Picasso gave up. They were promised a better life, a fantastic future. What did they get? A father who abandoned them and left them to survive on their own, with a mom who hadn’t worked in years. They gave up their friends and their passions all so their dad could get closer to his mistress.

Those memories are extremely painful, even to this day. I don’t think there will ever come a day that I won’t mourn what was stolen from my children. I could accept it if they had a new life that was so much better, but they didn’t get that. They were teased with new, bigger bedrooms, their own bathrooms, a pool, a game room, and the promise of a media room. They were promised a better life. “This move will secure our future so that we can provide better for you,” they were told.

They didn’t get that better life. They sure as hell didn’t get a more secure future. Our cross country move was always about CF and what he wanted. They were collateral damage.

I look at all of those pictures and all of those posts now and I realize what a farce my life actually was. Was any of it real? Was I skating across thin ice the entire time? Was I off living my life, thinking things were fantastic and we were so blessed when the reality was my husband was planning his exit the entire time? I naively thought my kids were going to be well provided for always; they would have everything I didn’t have growing up. It turned out to be an illusion.

I’m not sure if I should say, “Thanks for the memories,” as I grow teary eyed looking at what was, and what will never be again. Or, if I should instead say, “Thanks for the reality check. My life was never real. Too bad I didn’t know it back then.”

 

Forced Civilization

Ta-da! This is it. Part 5. Aren’t you glad I broke it up into 5 easily digested pieces? Me too. As always, here are parts 1, 2, 3, and 4. Enjoy!

I’m going to say it one more time: Maintain no contact! If you’ve chosen to remain married, maintain no contact with the affair partner. Pain shopping never ends well.

Remember all those things I’d love to say? It would only result in me looking crazy. Hell, I probably look crazy right now as I write this.

It is patently unfair. They get to preen around like peacocks and we’re expected to sit quietly, say nothing, and be happy for the new couple lest we be deemed “bitter”.

Do they “deserve” to have someone chime in on their page and remind them about the kids he abandoned, or the fact that their happiness came at The Saint’s and my expense? Sure. Would it be fun to say something like, “Hey, it’s great that you can be a dad to her kids; too bad you haven’t seen your own in over 2 years,” or “Does everyone know that you could drive 12 hours round trip to see your whore every weekend for 6 months but you haven’t been able to make that drive to see your children one time in more than 2 years?”? Well, of course it would be fun!

But it will also make me look like a bitter, crazy person. Oh, look; she just can’t let go. It’s so sad that Sam can’t focus on her own life and try to find some happiness. Looks like she’s going to let this divorce destroy her. Her poor children. Obviously, Sam prefers to be bitter and hateful instead of appreciating the fact that her husband of twenty years released her from the burden of being his wife.

Even though I’m telling the truth no one wants to hear it. They want tidy. They want shiny. They want everything to fit comfortably inside a little box. As Jack Nicholson would tell you, “They can’t handle the truth!” They don’t want to hear about all the ill effects of adultery. Affairs are between two people and we just never know what goes on in another person’s marriage. Sam probably had it coming. She was probably a terrible wife and that’s why he cheated. Besides, everyone is happier now so it was all for the best. Get over it!

In playing your role as the crazy ex you give voice to their untruthful narrative. See? I told you she was unreasonable! I told you she was hateful and mean and tried to make me eat a turnip!

You’re just a big bowl of cray cray so what else could they do? They found comfort in one another. They bonded over the craziness that was their exes and all of the abuse and neglect that was heaped upon them. Thank God we found each other and can now revel in real happiness with someone who truly loves me and takes care of me.

When you go after the affair partner instead of the cheating spouse it gets even worse! She’s now the victim in all of this. You are unreasonable! You are blaming the wrong person! She’s crying to anyone who will listen to it and everyone pats her back sympathetically and nods their head in agreement. “Why is she doing this? You slept with her husband and now she’s acting crazy! What’s the big deal? Why won’t she leave you alone? You’re innocent! My God it was just a little bump and grind!”

So you stay away. You maintain no contact because there is nothing to be gained. It is a setup from the very beginning. You are destined to lose. If you point out all the destruction and pain you’re labeled bitter, vengeful, jealous. They tell you to get over it. To think of the children. Your truth is unwanted by these people. Similarly, the cheaters’ truth is lapped up like a luscious bowl of cream.

The ex would like nothing better than to convince everyone that I’m not his victim; I’m exactly the same as him so no one should pay attention to anything I say or anything he’s done. He’s done no worse than me so I can’t talk about him.

It’s not true. I’m not sneaking around behind a clueless wife’s back. I’m not having clandestine meetings in work spaces or parking lots or minivans. I certainly never siphoned off money for a boyfriend and his kids, or took money meant for someone else’s kids. The minute I start to defend myself against him, though, I lose. Facts do not matter to them. The truth does not matter to them. The truth is malleable. You can twist it and turn it to suit your purposes.

Just like he wants everyone to believe he’s a devoted father who loves his children. The only reason he hadn’t seen them in over two years was because of me and the fact that I poisoned them against him.

You end up dropping the rope because you realize the only way to win is to not play. Kind of like War Games. The only move I can make is to keep my mouth shut and let the happy couple look like a couple of idiots with a bunch of delusional supporters. I can snark away at them over here on the safety of my blog. I have to be secure in the knowledge that the only people who really matter know the truth. I realize that if he ever were to get in my face and start slinging shit my way the best thing I could do would be to say, “Dude, I know it’s really important to you to believe that story, so I’m gonna let you have it. It seems to be much more important for you to believe that you’re right than it is to me to prove that you’re wrong.”

I’ll let you in on a little secret. As hard as it may be to stay away and keep silent, it really is the best course of action. Cheaters hate not being central. They hate not being in control. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over these last few years it’s that those of us who have been cheated on have also been slowly and systematically trained to cave and give into the demands of the cheater. It’s not always an overt type of thing; I’d go so far as to say most of the time it’s not. The cheater just always thinks he or she knows best and we follow along. We try so hard not to rock the boat, to give them what they want, to make them happy, that we often end up losing our agency.

Would it have been wonderful to have put a HUGE sign on his car that said, “I tricked my wife and kids into moving 2000 miles away so that I could resume my affair with my cousin!” along with all of his clothes in his work parking lot? Oh my God yes! Would it have felt great to post signs all along the route to our house that said, “Cheater lives here,”? Uh-huh. Or maybe renting a big billboard in their new city with their pictures on it, letting everyone know to congratulate the happy cheaters. Again, yes. Expensive, but yes, it would have been satisfying. There are definitely days I wish I had called her up and told her about my crying kids or that I had ripped him a new one, or that I had even just dumped everything of his out on the lawn.

But you know what? It wouldn’t have mattered. I would have played right into their narrative that I was a crazy, jealous, overbearing pyscho and he had to get away! On the other hand, despite doing none of that I know he lies. He tells people I filed for divorce and he has no idea why. I know he tells people I rounded up all of his stuff into black garbage bags and threw it on the curb. He continues to tell people he moved away from his kids and in with his mistress/cousin six hours away because I forced him to move out of the family home (and wouldn’t let him take one single thing with him!). Ultimately though he knows none of that happened. I cared so little for him and his antics that I simply pretended he no longer existed.

I have no scientific proof of this, but I sincerely believe that ignoring him (or any of them) is much more effective than going balls to the wall with them- spouse or affair partner. Like we can’t fight against the injustice of their stupid image management, they can’t fight against silence. How do you fight against something that isn’t there?

I would like to believe that me ignoring him drives him crazy. I was supposed to beg and plead and instead I merely wiped out the bank account and gave him the deep freeze. There was no pretending to put on a united front. I didn’t protect him. I told our kids the truth. I told my family the truth. Hell, I told the lady at the vet’s office the truth. I sang loud and proud. No fucking way I was going to own his shit show. If he didn’t want everyone in our small town to know he was a liar who moved his entire family across the country to get closer to his cousin then he shouldn’t have done it.

Every time he has tried to antagonize me I have refused to take the bait. Well, except for that one time in May of 2016. Even then I kept it pretty funny and brief.

Hacking my Facebook page? Changed my password. Contacted my lawyer. Proved it was him. Sending text messages to the mobster from a burner phone? Ignored. Playing with child support? Show cause hearing which has resulted in him having to pay large lump sums to me each and every time. Sending the checks in obnoxious envelopes? Ignored. Checks cashed. Telling me to check my damn mailbox and calling me greedy because I dared to ask about support? Let him know that if it was too much for the poor dear to hear from me I’d be more than happy to garnish his paycheck. Fucking around with paying support and doing it on his own schedule. Again, reminded him of the court order and let him know I would be filing a garnishment with the state if he did it again. Doing his own child support modification? Hey, I gave him fair warning and then I contacted my lawyer. All of his lies? Confronted with the truth in court.

As far as I’m concerned I’ve been an ideal ex. I stay away. I don’t contact him unless it’s absolutely necessary. I do not and have not ever harassed him or the whore by phone, text, email, or in person. I’ve never asked him for a dime above what he’s been ordered to pay, and quite honestly, those times when he wasn’t paying and should have been I didn’t say a word. I figure out what needs to be done and then I do it. Usually it’s through some sort of court order and then he gets really pissy but that’s neither here nor there.

I’ll say it one last time. Stay away. Stay off social media. When you feed the beast it continues to grow. It feels good in the moment but it’s giving them power. They still matter! Or, in other cases, you continue to be the big, bad hinderance to true love. What’s that they say? Never argue with a fool. He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience. Never wrestle with a pig. You both get dirty and the pig likes it. Continuing to beat yourself up by looking at the part of their lives they’re willing to put on Facebook is like wrestling with a pig and arguing with an idiot. It does no good. It will never help you. It’s all designed, in fact, to hurt you. You can’t confront them or you look like the crazy person and they come off looking like the poor, stalked victims. Focus on your own life. Take it from someone who did something really stupid and paid the price in self-doubt. Keep being the best badass you can be and, as Chump Lady would say, trust that they suck!

More Crazy Talk

We are almost done. This is Part 4. Playing catch up? Here are parts 1, 2, and 3.

I think the thing that kills me more than anything is the stupid memes I find on her page. I’ve said before, for a whore she’s very philosophical. I’ve never seen a person post as much drivel as she does. I try to roll my eyes and move along but I’m afraid my eyes are going to get stuck in the back of my head because of the unending bullshit that she posts in her quest to be enlightened and tolerant.

She is a huge fan of a group on Facebook that offers up all sorts of inspirational memes and concentrates very much on being a better person and finding your soul mate. That’s kind of funny actually. She’s a horrible person. She fucked a married man. She was sending “inappropriate” pictures to a neighbor while she fucked my husband. She continued to sleep with her estranged husband while sharing a bank account and my fucking marital funds with my husband. She’s so focused on finding true love, her other half, and her soul mate and being connected by the universe and threads of time and waiting patiently for her win and yada yada yada that she never stops to ask herself, “Hey, do you really think you should be poaching someone else’s spouse? Is that really the path to enlightenment? Is that helping you to be your best self?” You want some inspiration and philosophy, Harley? Here ya go:

Naturally she doesn’t think like that. No, instead she goes with something like this:

Interesting. This has me curious. Maybe that’s the point. Is she trying to insinuate that they never talk about me because I mean nothing to them? I find that hard to believe when I’m taking over half of his paycheck and they both seem so eager to hack into my Facebook page. I’m not the one hacking into their social media! I’m also not tracking down her ex-husband to get dirt on her. Nor am I sending nasty text messages or constantly fucking with them.

Isn’t that also a fantastic way to get your detractors to shut up? By spreading the narrative that talking about them and their antics means you care about them they force you to be quiet lest people think they matter a great deal.

I have a different philosophy. I think evil should be named. I think it should be brought out into the light so everyone can see the ugliness. It festers and oozes when it hides in the warm, damp darkness.

I think we can all safely conclude that she certainly doesn’t take the approach of not talking about her relationship with her cousin. Although it may “mean everything” she is not taking the quiet approach. Oh no! She is shouting it from the rooftops. “I stole my cousin away from his wife of twenty years and both his kids! He left them all for me and moved six hours away just to be close to me and my heathens!” Bravo, whore!

What’s next in Whore Philosophy 101?

Nicely done, cunt face! Yes, please do encourage everyone not to look too closely at what happened. You can’t change the past or the fact you’re a whore who fucks other women’s husbands; so let’s just change the narrative from this point on. You’re not the cousin/mistress. You’re the cousin/wife. Forget the lies and the money and the cheating. This is your big chance to convince everyone that this is the epic love story that would not be thwarted. It was a love that could not be denied. It wasn’t some tawdry affair. It had meaning. We can all choose to concentrate on the wrongs that were done, or we can focus on the future. You might have been a cheating whore but that was ten minutes ago. Now you can start all over; you can change the ending and no one will call you a whore again. Even if you are one ‘cause leopards don’t change their spots. Whore.

Cute little side note? Tammy Faye commented on this one: Amen! It’s almost like she was saying, “Yeah, you are a whore who fucked a married man and destroyed his kids’ lives but you make him happy. We’ll just pretend all that nasty stuff never happened and take it from here. I call mulligan!

My favorite one, though, was this:

What the hell kind of mind fuck is that shit? What do cheaters have to be angry, enraged or insulted about? Are they pouting because their duped spouses aren’t buying the lies anymore? Has that sent them into a rage? Are they enraged because people aren’t thinking highly of them anymore? Are they insulted because people call them what they are? Doubtful. They don’t typically have shame or remorse.

Rise above the bullshit? What bullshit is she rising above? She’s got me calling her a whore although never to her face. She’s got a son she’s disowned basically. I’m not sure how The Saint views her nowadays. At one point he said she was just plain mean. Maybe it hurts her to not have his adoring support and she considers that bullshit.

You want to rise above the bullshit? Try losing just about everything, bitch. Try being forced out of your home. Try starting all over… By. Yourself. And with no money because you trusted your spouse and you stayed home with the kids while he climbed the career ladder. Oh wait, that’s what you did to your husband, too. Both of you using us so that you could get further and then deciding years later that we no longer served your purposes so we were discarded.

I’ve been doing nothing except rising for the last three years. I’ve pulled up roots yet again, moved hundreds of miles yet again, kept it together for the sake of my kids, worked two jobs to support those kids when the love of your life was declining to pay support, put one foot in front of the other, and kept going.

What kind of bullshit did you need to rise against? Did you lose your home? Were you forced to move out of the state? Did your kids lose their father to another woman and her kids? Did you have to suddenly go back to work after a fifteen plus year absence and try to support your kids with no help from The Saint? Were you left wondering what was so wrong with you that your husband chose another woman over you? Did you listen in stunned bemusement at all the lies your ex told about you in his efforts to turn himself, the cheater, into a victim? No, no you didn’t, you fucking cunt. That’s what you helped do to me. You decimated my life and then want to turn around and act like you’re magnanimous. And philosophical. And so much bigger than the rest of us.

Flick your light back on and shine it brighter than ever? Seriously? Why don’t I shove a flashlight up your ass and that way when you open your pie hole to spit out this drivel you can shine a light on your nonsense? Once again, whores are so philosophical and so misunderstood. Let’s help them shine a light onto their greatness. God knows we wouldn’t want them to shrink back into the darkness.

I think the last line is my favorite though: Fall so deeply in love with your own life that anyone who tried to wrong you becomes a laughable, ridiculous, distant memory.

Brilliant! She will not be kept down. No one will shame her.  Does anyone have any doubt that the whore loves her life? She’s got everything she’s ever wanted and has suffered no consequences. Why would she not love her life? She does not need that advice. She needs advice that centers on being humble and kind!

And who has tried to wrong her? She is the one going out and wronging others. She wronged me. She wronged my children. She’s wronged her own son. She wronged her husband.

This idea that any of us should somehow become a distant, laughable, ridiculous memory is insane. She is the one who needs to fade into the darkness.

She likes to turn it around so that she’s the enlightened victim, refusing to let the haters get her down. The reality is she’s the one doing all the victimizing.

This advice isn’t actually bad. Believe me, I am doing my best to fall deeply in love with my new life, the one foisted upon me by the whore and my philandering husband. I would love nothing more than for her and her ilk to disappear and be nothing more than a laughable, distant memory. The problem lies in the fact that cheaters like her take this crap and use it for their own nefarious purposes. The people who really need this advice are people like me, the mobster, and any of you who have been duped by your partner.

With that in mind I’m going to offer this piece of advice to Harley: Take your insipid, not-needed-self-esteem boosting memes and shove ‘em the same place I’d like to shove that flashlight!

 

The Doubts

Welcome to Part 3 on my series of the folly of pain shopping. You can read Part 1 and/or part 2 if you are so inclined.

I do not want him back. He is a pox upon humanity. I am madly in love with the mobster and I am happier than I have ever been. Still…. I look at that shit on her Facebook and I wonder…

Was he right and we just weren’t good together? Is Harley better suited for him because she doesn’t mind sitting at home all day long? Will their love of Kentucky basketball see them through every hardship? Is she just better than me in his eyes, because he certainly didn’t want any part of the family life with me and our kids? I couldn’t get him out of his damn bed. I couldn’t pry him away from the TV. We didn’t take trips together. He didn’t feel the need to be a supportive dad to his own kids. He never complimented me where everyone in the world could see it.

Was he right and I was a terrible wife? I never put photo frames around his picture and declared I loved my veteran. I thanked him every year but I didn’t post pictures and photo frames and declarations of love. Maybe she is just all around better than me. I envision her working her 40+ hours a week, bringing home a substantial paycheck and still having plenty of time to cook dinner, clean house and do laundry all while being supermom to her kids. At least three of them.

I work 40+ works hours a week and bring home less now than I did when I first started, thanks to taxes, a 401k, and crappy medical insurance for me and my two kids. My mom cooks and does laundry. I rarely see my kids- Rock Star is gone a huge chunk of the time and Picasso is off doing his own thing in his room. I did begin and end this divorce with two kids so I’ve got that going for me. I’ll put that one in the win column for me.

I see pictures of them with all their pets so I know I didn’t turn him off because I loved animals and had a house full.

I sometimes even see witty memes and I think to myself, “That’s pretty funny; too bad you’re a whore.”

Was he right and I just wasn’t “the one”? I wasn’t a good fit and she is. Is it that simple? Maybe they really are deliriously happy together. Maybe it’s the love affair of the century, Kentucky style.

Maybe I just wasn’t the right wife for him and she is. Did I fail him? Did he at one point think I had all the necessary traits he wanted/needed in a wife, but over the years he came to realize I did not?

That is the fear, isn’t it? It’s not that the two people who did this to you are evil, horrible, rotten people who should be strung up and shot; it’s that those two people who did this to you are so much better suited to one another. They compliment each other. They fit together. They make a better couple. They realized it and weren’t afraid to plunge ahead while you clung to the past with everything you had. It’s about being bested by a whore with no morals who may actually be the better partner because God knows he does things for her and her kids that he never bothered to do for me and mine.

Was I the starter wife? Did he learn from his mistakes with me? Did he finally realize that barricading himself in the bedroom and submerging himself in the television all by himself was not the path to a happy marriage so now he’ll do better? Is that why he’s willing to do all the things that I would have loved for him to do with all of us?

Did I somehow prevent him from living up to his potential? Was I too overbearing when it came to the kids? Is that why he was reluctant to come with us but is always ready and willing to help out with her kids and to act like one big happy family with them?

Would insisting on family dinners around the table have helped? What if I was a better housekeeper? Maybe he wouldn’t have minded being in the living room instead of shutting himself off in the bedroom. Maybe it really was me! If I had kept the house cleaner and cooked more he never would strayed. Okay, that’s a little over the top. But maybe if I had kept the house cleaner he wouldn’t have chosen to stay in his bedroom so much, or chosen to remain downstairs in the basement watching television while the kids and I stayed upstairs. I’ve said before I think that was when the breakdown began and we began living separate lives, so if I had been better at that one thing then I could have saved this and my kids would never know a life of poverty. Her little snapshots of life are all about family life and being together and doing things together. I keep coming back to: If I had been a better housekeeper maybe he wouldn’t have retreated, and all those pictures of cozy Sundays in front of a fire, or outings with children could be us.

He kept telling me I could watch whatever I wanted on TV. He didn’t need to have it on ESPN or History Channel. I never believed him though, and truthfully, didn’t want to spend hours upon hours holed up in the bedroom. It seems like she doesn’t mind and maybe if I had forced myself to do that then I would still be married.

Was I too easy going? Did that disappoint him? Did he want someone to push back? Did he want more fire? Did I make things too easy for him? Perhaps I should have taken a stand and demanded more from him. Maybe when I sighed and took on more and more of the tasks he saw it as a sign I didn’t see him worth fighting for.

Did I just flat-out disappoint him when it came to being his wife? Were there tons of things I didn’t do that a good wife should do and that Harley the Whore obviously does? I didn’t fawn over him. I didn’t call him out on Facebook all the time. I didn’t marvel over him. I didn’t bring him a cool drink while he mowed the yard. I didn’t want to snuggle in bed all day with him. I didn’t want to watch Mountain Men with him. I fell asleep on the couch even once he “allowed” me to come back and sleep in the bed. Maybe I really didn’t love him the way you should love your husband. Maybe he is now getting the love he deserves and he feels complete and happy. We all know I couldn’t make him happy, no matter how hard I tried. She appears to make him happy all the time. If you don’t believe me take a gander at her Facebook page. Everyone there will tell you how happy they both look!

Why? That is the overwhelming question that rushes through my brain as I looked at all that crap. Why was he willing to do all of this with her and her kids? He could celebrate birthdays with them, go to the zoo, take “family” vacations, go to cheer competitions, go to the hospital with her kid and fetch candy. Why can he be Dad of the Year to her kids when all he could do with ours was sit in the bedroom and watch TV? Why did we have to practically beg him to go anywhere with us? How is it that now he’s able to go away on couple’s vacations and spend time together outside of the safety of his bedroom in the evening? Why is he getting his teeth fixed? Why is he suddenly getting involved in veteran’s groups? Why is he wearing sandals with jeans? Was it something about me? Did I lack something that would have motivated him to do those things? Is she just better at getting him out of his shell? Did he give up because he thought I didn’t care?

The mobster thought this had really gotten into my head. Maybe it has but I think it’s natural to see things like that and wonder, “Why the hell couldn’t he (or she) have done all of that while we were married? Why did it take blowing up the original family for the ex to finally act the way I wish he (or she) had acted when he was with me?

I can tell you this: I will no longer be looking at her Facebook page. I do know they are masters at image management. I know that if her head was on fire she would not acknowledge it. She’d be saying, “I’m a little chilly; anyone got a sweater?” I know that ultimately it doesn’t matter what kind of a cook she is, or how promptly she does laundry, or if she keeps a cleaner house than I did because she is a woman who has no qualms about sleeping with another woman’s husband. She’s a woman who is willing to cheat on her husband. No matter what good things she may do to cover up the evil that lies within, she is an awful person with crappy character and no moral compass.

I know I don’t want him back and that life is so much nicer without him in it. It doesn’t matter if he goes out to dinner with her daughter or shows up to support her at cheer competitions. It doesn’t matter if he goes to Show and Tell with her son, or is there to hold his hand when he hurts himself. No matter what good deeds he may perform for her children he will always be an ass who abandoned his own kids, who refused to pay child support for them while he drained a 401k of $10,000, and who tried to get out of paying sufficient support for them during his court trial. He played games with child support once he got a job and calculated child support for his “beloved” daughter down to the last half hour for crying out loud. He’s also a man who has no qualms about sleeping with another man’s wife and is willing and able to cheat on his wife. Not only was he willing to cheat on me, but he was willing to lie to me, make a fool out of me, take money away from his kids and give to her and her kids, and then financially rape me. He has crappy character and no moral compass. I guess they really are ideally suited for one another. Thank God no more nice people will be subjected to their lying, cheating ways. They can both wonder what the other one is up to. I think they are probably both too pleased with themselves to ever even consider the idea that the same could be done to them.

Stay away, everyone! Nothing good comes from pain shopping. Nothing! They make you doubt yourself when you know you’re sane. They make you question yourself and your actions even when you know you did nothing wrong. They can convince you that they are living a life of carefree joy and that all of that could have been yours if you had simply danced prettier. They’ll make you wonder what you did wrong and you’ll find yourself comparing yourself to someone who is so far below you there can never be a comparison. Even when you are happy in your new life one look at the cheaters and their life on social media is enough to make you stumble off of that path of newfound happiness and bliss; they’ll take you down a twisted road of doubt and anger and jealousy.  They are master manipulators and you will never be able to compete with their highlight reel. So don’t do it! Stay far, far away!

 

The Highlight Reel

This is the second part in my five part series on the stupidity of pain shopping. You can read the first part here. Let me serve as a lesson to you! Don’t do it!

I embarked on some “research”. First up was a new picture of her kids on vacation. It might have been Tennessee but it could have easily been somewhere else as well.

They looked like they were having fun. I don’t know if CF came along or if good ol’ Harley is finally learning the joys of life with him. In my mind he came along, because this is Life 2.0. He’s new and improved. He’s the doting husband and the beloved daddy, always ready for adventures with this new version of his family. Naturally, in my narrative he’s telling Harley how much he loves going on vacation and how I would never let him accompany us, how he missed out on so many of these adventures with his own children because of me.

Of course, I also notice the missing fourth child. I guess he wouldn’t play happy family or accept CF as his brand new daddy so he needed to be eradicated. Not even a mention of missing him.

I go back and forth between hoping he has a damn anxiety attack on the way back (or while there) that she needs to deal with and wondering if there was some magic formula I didn’t know existed that would have made him enjoy vacationing with his kids and me. Why does he do this with her and her kids when he would never do it with his own kids?

I see the pictures once again of the happy couple on their wedding day and honeymoon, I suppose. Everyone congratulating them and telling them how happy they are for them. I roll my eyes at the stupidity. It’s laughable. Two cheaters promising to love, honor and forsake all others. Yes, they’ve both got a real good grasp on how marriage is supposed to work.

I so badly want to comment and ask those people if they’re aware of the price her husband, her one son, my kids, and I all had to pay for their happiness. Do you think she’s entitled to happiness at my expense? At my kids’ expense?

I sleep on a couch. My daughter has spent two years basically with her head down just doing her damnedest to graduate and get the hell out of here, to start all over in college. My son, instead of hanging out with friends, stays locked in his room playing video games. We live on a busy street, not a neighborhood. There are no kids around he could hang out with.

But they’re happy and they deserve it because apparently I was a horrible, evil, mean person who tried to shit all over their happiness. No one cares what their happiness did to anybody else’s life.

She wants everyone to know that lazy days spent on the couch in front of the fire with her beloved are her favorite kind of Sunday. He’s got the remote in his hand so he hasn’t changed that much.

I see her incessantly calling him out, mentioning him, tagging him. “I love my veteran!”, “Waiting to watch the fight!” (from their home, on the couch, with him), and letting everyone know how they’re “getting their Halloween on”. Wow- you managed to get him to watch something other than Ice Road Truckers or Mountain Men? Congratulations! You didn’t get him out from under the television altogether but at least you’re watching together.

Again I wonder: Why not with me? Why can he suddenly do all these family and couple oriented things with her that he never could with me? Their life seems to be like a cozy, warm sweater. They carve pumpkins, sip hot apple cider, and watch Halloween movies together. I’m sure Christmas is now magical as well for him.

I see all their happy couple pictures and people cooing all over them. “Beautiful!” “Such a happy couple!” “So nice to finally see you happy!” My former in-laws are the worst offenders. And so incredibly stupid.

My late former mother-in-law shouts out to all on Facebook that, “That’s my baby boy and he’s going to make them my family, too!” Really? Aren’t they already your family? I could have sworn you told me that day you sat in my kitchen that you couldn’t cut her off because she was family. She might be a whore, but gosh darn it, Sam, she’s family, too! I see my evil ex sister-in-law gush that she loves them.

Funny side note: Maybe it’s a woman thing but I definitely noticed how Harley was always commenting on their pages once CF broke things off with her. She didn’t comment much at all before her affair with him but she was all over it once she got dumped. Imagine my surprise when I saw that she’s not falling all over herself to comment on every insipid post and each picture. Curious.

Always there are the obligatory compliments: You are so beautiful. Pretty. Great picture of you, whore.

I freely admit it has always been a sore spot that my former in-laws never missed a chance to tell her how wonderful she looked, while ignoring me.

I posted a new profile picture (obviously this was back when we were still married). Keep in mind I am not the type of person who changes profile pictures every week. That would be Harley. I think this was the first change in two years. Two years! On top of that I had just got my hair cut. I had kept my hair styled basically the same way for years! This was a major change and the most I got from any of them was, “That hairstyle looks nice on you.”

Maybe the former in-laws always thought I was very ugly and wondered what on earth their beloved prince was doing with such an unsuitable specimen. Maybe they like the Hillbilly Whore look. Who knows?

I do my best to shake my head and continue on.

I see all of the pictures of her adorable animals. Most of them purchased by my then-husband. Couldn’t give me money for a homecoming dress for his daughter but he could buy them new animals.

To inject just a brief moment of sanity in this I will note that I don’t see the pets she used to pose with. I wonder if she discarded them like she discarded her son and husband. Much like her new husband discarded his family and pets. Oh well, everything is replaceable, right?

I see her update on moving into their new home. That’s nice, bitch. I live with my mom. My kids don’t have a home of their own. It’s nice that thanks to my husband’s money (and he was my husband at this point in time) your kids are able to move into the nicest home they’ve ever lived in. It’s fantastic that things are going so swell for your kids. Well, except the one you abandoned.

Guess what? She later reveals she loves their new home. There’s so much for her kids to do! I’m so happy for them.

There’s the post about her youngest banging his head in the pool and needing stitches. Don’t worry, though, because New Daddy was on the job keeping him calm, happy, and stuffed with candy!

Awww… that’s so sweet. I’m glad he can act like a father for your kids. Too bad he’s done nothing for his own. To be fair he did manage to make a few ER trips with us (hey- my kid was a gymnast; she got hurt a lot!) but that pales in comparison to what he’s done to them the last 2 years. Maybe we should start calling her youngest, “Mulligan” since he seems to be CF’s do-over.

There were the pictures of the family outing to the zoo- two whole hours away to boot! I guess that PTSD must be in remission, huh? I suppose since he’s no longer trying to con me out of sufficient child and spousal support he can fully enjoy life as the asshole he is.

Oh, there it is! Yet another new profile picture of the whore so that everyone can compliment her and tell her how pretty she is. There’s CF chiming in, “Gorgeous!”  Really? I was married to that sonofabitch for twenty fucking years. Granted, he was not on Facebook long while we were married and most of the time I imagine he spent trying to fuck other women, but not once did he bother to compliment me.

It bothered me when I was married to him. It bothered me when we were wreck-onciling. He knew it bothered me. I told him it bothered me. His excuse? “I see you everyday! Why would I bother to comment on Facebook when I can tell you in person?”

That’s a good question. Why is he bothering to comment on Facebook when he could just go home and tell her?  Better question: If he really wants to let everyone know how special she is why doesn’t he tell her that she’s worth the thousands of dollars he has to pay out every month? I would think that would be a huge compliment! “Your pussy is so fantastic I don’t mind paying out thousands of dollars a month for it!” or maybe, “You were worth abandoning my children!” Hmmm… perhaps that does not convey the message they want to convey…

I see more pictures of the happy couple posing in front of scenery that does not resemble Kentucky. Maybe they travel a lot now. How convenient. It’s nice to know he spent twenty years wasting my life and making me do everything solo because he got such anxiety anytime he ventured outside of his house. I think the mobster is right and Harley very much is his seeing eye dog. With her by his side as his faithful companion he can go places he once only dreamed of.

One last new snapshot- one of her daughter and her two smiling sons. They’re all going out to celebrate her birthday. I think it’s wonderful that he can finally go out for birthday dinners once again. The last year he lived in the house, the last birthday each of my kids had before finding out that their family was going to be shattered and their lives torn apart, he was simply too upset and anxious to go out and celebrate. He stayed behind, probably texting the whore, while I took the two of them out. Who cares if he fucked over his own kids, right? The important part is that he’s doing right by her kids.

Once again I see the picture of CF with Mulligan at Show and Tell. It was Veteran’s Day. This year she improved upon the picture with a cutesy frame that told everyone who cared to listen that she loved her veteran. The year before though it was simply about how pleased Mulligan was that New Daddy/Cousin Daddy (Caddy?) could be there.

You know what I thought about? I thought about the time he snapped at Picasso because he wanted his dad to drop him off at school. Good ol’ Daddy was anxious and didn’t know how to navigate the carpool lane. The man can fight a fucking war and blow shit up, but a line of cars whipping through the horseshoe drive in front of the school just wipes him out.

I thought about the time he got pissy with me because I needed him to run to Target and grab a gift out of the dollar bin and bring it back up to the school for Rock Star so she could participate in her classroom Christmas party. As always, shooting people and blowing shit up is easy; a quick trip to Target is life threatening. He will probably need psychological counseling for the rest of his life because of it.

Once again I see them posing the day of her daughter’s cheerleading competition- him posing in a t-shirt with her high school name and mascot on it. Both of them gushing about how important it was to be there for her. “He must love her so much to wear that t-shirt!” “Oh, it was painful to put that Cardinals t-shirt on but I wanted to support her.”

He never saw his daughter cheer or compete as a cheerleader one single time. He never went to a single high school gymnastics meet. At the time he was saying this he had moved out of the state without saying a word to either of his kids and he hadn’t seen them in over eighteen months. Yes, it was so important that he support the daughter of the whore he’s fucking.

And always there are the comments. Comments from people I used to call family. Comments from people who still try to act like they care about me and my kids while they support that fucking whore and her kids. Comments from people who used to be family shouting out how happy they are with the jolly new couple, how much they love them, how much they love Everything. About. Them. They are so proud and this is their family. Tammy Faye cooing over the newest grandchildren. She loves them so much! Doesn’t seem to give a shit about her actual grandchildren but the whore’s kids? She was on that shit quick!

As tempting as it may be, don’t do it! Don’t pain shop. Maintain no contact (and that includes social media). You may think you can handle it, that it will be no big deal, but feelings will come. I promise you this. Even if the majority of those feelings are rage and anger it is still a lot to deal with. It can still mess with your head. Even knowing they are masters at image management, even knowing that truly happy people don’t have to make a huge show of their relationship every day and every hour on social media, even knowing he is the problem and she is a whore, it can still make you doubt yourself.

The Pitfalls of Pain Shopping

You’re in for a treat. I knew before I even began that this was going to be long; this here is Part 1 of 5. You know what that means though, right? Five straight days of posts from me!

Hi, I’m Sam. I am a survivor.  I am a fighter. I am fearless. I am kickass. I know my worth. I don’t believe a bit of the bullshit that comes out of cheaters’ mouths, excusing their affairs. I believe there is no excuse for cheating on your partner. I believe the most important question isn’t, “How can I save this marriage?” or “What did I do wrong?”, but “What’s important to me in a marriage?” and  “What is acceptable to me?” I don’t do hurt; I do pissed off. I firmly believe in no contact. I know that cheaters are masters at image management. I know they suck.

I am also not immune to curiosity. I “investigate” social media on occasion. I have recently been pain shopping. I am a dumbass.

I could easily blame this on my mom. She is the one who informed me CF and Harley had gotten married. I could have comfortably lived my life not knowing that. Who could resist sneaking a peak at the happy couple? Certainly not me!

It started with their wedding picture and making snarky remarks about the “happy couple” to friends. Harley looks terrible. She really does. Her wedding picture is maybe one step up from her most recent mugshot.

When she was chasing after my husband and finally landed him she was thinner than me. I’ll admit I was jealous. People complimented her on it. Now she looks like a beached whale. Seriously. I am not someone who usually picks on someone for their weight because God knows I’m not some size 2. But she has to have a good 30-40 pounds on me.

You’d think that would be enough. Yep, there they are. You’ve seen them. Let’s move on from this train wreck. Yes, he actually married the whore; true love won. Move along!

You would be wrong.

Rock Star announced recently that her dad had contacted her, asked her where she was going to school and if she needed anything. I guess he can afford to act like the big shot because he’s got almost an extra thousand dollars in his pocket each month now. He ended up sending her $200 so she could buy her laptop and then ordered the rest of her bedding for her and is having it sent here. What a hero! Cut off support for her the very moment she graduates and then swoop in to save her. What. A. Stand. Up. Guy.

This gets me to thinking about the possibility that he may become a part of her life once again. He and the whore may sneak up to campus and spend weekends with her. He might invite her down to his house so she can live like she used to. He could offer up the use of the pool in their neighborhood. See how nice and luxurious life could be with us?

I’m trying to wrap my mind around this possibility. It does not happen. I have come to the conclusion that I could accept her having a relationship with him. He is her father. But her? Over my dead body. I will not have that whore weaseling her way into my kids’ lives.

The other very real fear is that as he worms his way back into Rock Star’s life he could easily start to share his own version of what happened with her. His version, of course, is that I’m an evil, horrible person who deserved everything he did to me. I didn’t take care of him. I never loved him. We weren’t good for one another. I’m just a bitter, angry person who refuses to thank him for setting me free from the burden of being his wife.

I would like to think that Rock Star is smarter than that and that our bond is deeper than that. But money talks; you hear stories everyday of children who go with the parent that has the deepest pockets.

This is the background story to my pain shopping. Why I chose my next move I am not sure. I suppose I thought I could handle it; I thought I was prepared for anything and figured I could use it as snark in another post.

Oh, there will be snark. But there is also fury and anger and indignation. There has even been some doubt. Doubt that I was a good wife. Doubt that I was a good partner to him. Doubt that I treated him right.

Don’t do what I did! Stay off the social media! No contact is the way to peace and light. Checking up on them is pain shopping. It’s looking for ways to make you doubt yourself; you compare your behind the scenes to their highlight reel and come away feeling like crap in most cases. They are masters at image management; they will never admit when things go to shit. It’s all posed fantasy. I repeat: Do not do what I did!

Cornhole For the Win!

I saw The. Most. amazing thing on television recently.

To begin my story I have to tell you I went to get my tire changed earlier in the day. The tire store was playing Mountain Men on the History Channel. I was shook, as the kids say. I had a slight trigger reaction to it but I pulled myself together. It was kind of nice to see that Eustace is still his crazy ass self, living off the grid as much as possible.

My mom and I decide to go out for lunch. She wants a chili cheese dog and I’ll take a breaded tenderloin. We go to what amounts to a college dive bar and sit at the bar. I look up and cannot believe my eyes. This was my face as I watched what was unfolding:

Don’t get me wrong. I like cornhole. I will play. In fact the mobster and I teamed up against my friend sweet J and her boyfriend at Rock Star’s graduation party not too long ago. I’m not all that good (although we did win) but I play. I do not diss those who play.

This was amazing though! They have professional cornhole teams! This was a Professional Invitational! I was stunned.

They have logo shirts…

They have sponsors! This one was sponsored by Johnsonville. If you didn’t already know you can’t spell sausage without U.S.A.

They had mascots! A bald eagle, Benjamin Franklin, Lady Liberty, and George Washington. Holy bratwurst, Batman!

There were spectators in the stands and a guy with a very large beer belly baring his chest and swinging his shirt around.

They even have career stats!

They have dual cameras so that you can watch the person throw and then see where the bag lands on the board (or in the hole). Amazing!

They interview the winners.

I was glad to see a woman breaking into professional cornhole. That gives me hope.

Sadly, while I liked the fancy bean bags (I think it was supposed to be leopard print) I think they actually belonged to the two man team and not the woman’s team. They won, by the way. You go, girl!

They run ads for the big matchup with the four mascots, labeling it the greatest corn hole match ever!

Then they actually let them play. “I bet those costumes are hot,” I tell my mom. I think it would suck the most to be the bald eagle. Who the hell wants to wear that giant head and try to play cornhole? It must be so hot in that thing.

“And they probably can’t throw very well in them either.” I was correct. They were not very good.

They did, however, have their own career statistics and who provided their bean bags.

Some days you are absolutely stunned by what you see on television. This was one of those days, but I had the greatest time capturing it. I am definitely a fan now.

P.S. Sorry the picture quality is bad. I was taking pictures of the TV.

Frankly My Dear, I Don’t Give a Damn

A little while ago I wrote about my feelings of cognitive dissonance and how I felt like a huge hypocrite. I’m pretty much over that now.

It was shortly after writing that Chump Lady published a letter from a woman who was divorcing her lying, cheating husband. He had cheated many, many times throughout their marriage. The final straw was when she got a call from yet another OW while she was grieving the loss of her pregnancy. She packed her bags and moved away from the area, away from him, and was starting a cheater-free life. After a year of being a hermit (and almost 2 years after her final DDay) she had met someone, they clicked, and ultimately, she ended up pregnant. While there were a few people who tsk tsk’d the fact that she was still legally married and wanted to throw out the ol’, “You’re no better than your cheating husband; you’re cheating on him, too!” most people were incredibly kind and supportive. Some of the things that I read that really stuck with me were the following comments:

It is true that in many states (including mine), having sex with someone before you are legally divorced counts as infidelity. But my state also bans the Encyclopedia Britannica because it contains a recipe for making beer at home. So let’s take laws at face value.

The bigger issue is whether it is morally acceptable to have physical intimacy with someone before one is divorced. As long as the divorce is underway, the two people are living separately, and are not taking actions to reconcile (e.g., in active marriage counseling), that marriage is over, and both people are free to date IMHO.

Many of these narcs drag out divorce for YEARS, even after having wasted decades of our lives. Should chumps chastely sit home waiting for the cheater to FINALLY disclose his or her financials? Or hire a third lawyer because his/her first two lawyers grew weary of the delays and obfuscation? I know a man who, even after settlement obtained in an early October court trial, was not divorced by late December because the STBX refused to sign the decree to which she and her lawyer had approved months earlier. He had been out of the house and NC for 1.5 years.

Chumps waste a lot of time before gaining a new life out of concern for the cheater, whilst the cheater wasted no time boinking strange after the wedding vows. It behooves us not to rush into a relationship before our grief has ended, but I don’t think we should stall our lives again, nor allow the post-filing manipulations of cheaters to continue to control us.

 

And if the divorce takes 3 years, do you watch your life go by and live virtuously alone? What if you do actually want children (I understand this pregnancy was unplanned)? Must you wait until the courts say it’s okay, no matter how long that takes and no matter how obstructive your ex may choose to be?

 

Why allow this cheater and his manipulations to cause any more lasting damage? Why does the pace of a divorce, which he can control, allow him to keep her from ever having a child? Hell to the no!

To my mind, when there are no secrets, there is no obligation. It is all aboveboard. Cheater does NOT get to determine her life choices for one more nanosecond! The minute he broke his vows, he released her from the terms of her sentence.

All those comments boiled down to one theme: Why let the cheater waste one more minute of your life?

I spent a good 10 months wanting to die, thinking that life was never going to get any better. I was alone for almost 2 years after DDay and when I did find someone it wasn’t because I was out actively looking. My legally wedded husband had been living with another woman in another state approximately six hours away for well over a year before I met the mobster. When he lost his job and destroyed our lives I knew nothing about what was going on; Harley, however, was in the loop, playing the dutiful fiancee. The legal wife sat at home, stunned and wondering what the hell was going on.

That doesn’t even touch on Virginia’s archaic divorce laws which basically say you must be physically separated for a year and a day before you can file for divorce, but my “husband” is legally allowed to cut me off financially. He was allowed to buy an engagement ring for the whore and puppies for her kids and blow all kinds of marital assets on his cunt face cum dumpster because hey, we’re living physically separate lives. But, don’t have sex with anyone else if you want spousal support. And, as the mobster has experienced, if the cheating spouse wants to come on inside your house, the one they abandoned, and grab a few things or just look around, they can still claim marital assets and marital residence.

Prior to DDay I had spent many years with a man who was never happy. He was drinking more and more. I really believe that Blockhead telling him about my Facebook page was what sent him spiraling out of control. He couldn’t go anywhere with us. He cried constantly. He wanted to shut himself upstairs in the bedroom. It was horrible. Even before then he rarely did things with us.

The kids and I vacationed without him; we went on outings without him. I handled the day to day care of them pretty much without him. We didn’t do date nights. After all, as he asked me once when I suggested it, “Why would you want to do that with me?” We spent very little time together.

I am completely good when it comes to my decision to date before I was legally divorced. I didn’t rush it. I didn’t look for it. I certainly didn’t lie to and deceive CF in order to do so. Once again I will point out that he lived in another state hundreds of miles away with another woman.

I am also good with my decision to date the mobster even though he is still legally married. I read his blog. I know it was over. I know he filed for divorce before we ever knew the other existed. He filed because he was done. Period. Not because I was sitting there, batting my eyes at him. Not because he thought the grass would be greener over here with me. No, he didn’t know me. He was done because he could no longer tolerate her behavior.

I don’t believe I would have ever agreed to text if he had still been living with her. I’m not sure I would have agreed to it if he hadn’t already taken steps to end the marriage.

I don’t shout it from the rooftops that he’s married, but I also don’t feel I’m doing anything wrong. He wasn’t (and isn’t) sneaking around behind her back. He wasn’t lying to her or siphoning off marital funds to give to me. She, like my husband, had moved out of their home and in with her boyfriend. There was no marriage left to preserve.

As the commenters from Chump Lady ask: How much more of our lives are we supposed to allow them to waste? Why are we expected to uphold vows that mean nothing to them? Why are we supposed to sit on the sidelines, alone and broken hearted, while they run around with their new plaything, safe in the knowledge that we’re chastely waiting for them to return to the ruins of our marriage? Why are we expected to handle the day to day running of life and pick up the pieces of all the lives the cheater has ruined, alone, halo all shiny and straight, while the cheater makes a new life with someone else? Are we masochists? Martyrs?

I know there are people out there for whom it is extremely important to be able to say they didn’t date until the ink was dry on the divorce decree. Good for you. I used to be one of you. I also know there are people out there who would criticize people who did wait but began dating immediately after the divorce was granted, because hey, you didn’t wait long enough. Why aren’t you mourning? Why aren’t you concentrating on something else besides dating? There are definitely people out there who would get the vapors at the thought of someone dating a person who was not yet divorced. Where is your decency? Do you not value the sanctity of marriage? Furthermore, I have no doubt that CF and all those who run with him are calling me all sorts of names and convincing themselves that what I’m doing is no different than what he and Harley did. Eh- I’m over it. I really don’t care. I know the truth.

I don’t need a shiny halo either. After reading so many stories for years and years I’m beginning to think that the only thing keeping your halo shiny does is make you feel good about yourself. It doesn’t lend itself to a better outcome. Usually you end up putting up with copious amounts of shit while the cheater merrily skips along his or her cheating way, leaving a wake of destruction behind. But you can pat yourself on the back and tell yourself that you did things the right way. Turns out, I don’t need an untarnished halo to feel good about myself.

Much like I get no personal satisfaction from putting chairs together, or doing yard work, I also don’t get a great sense of satisfaction from being able to say, “I followed the rules precisely at all times.” That’s actually pretty funny considering the fact that if you asked anyone who knows me well they would tell you that I am a rule follower.

Years ago I would have said you shouldn’t date until you’re divorced. Of course, it’s one thing to make life rules for yourself when you think you’ll never be in that situation. You can safely judge from the sidelines. Honestly, had my divorce not taken more than two years I wouldn’t have dated before I got divorced. Unfortunately, little things like being forced to move out of my house and sell off all of my stuff (or leave it behind), finding out my husband was in the psych ward again (or so I thought), being forced to get a job and then two jobs, working 16 hour days and 20+ days at a stretch, feeling like a horrible mom because I wasn’t around for my kids anymore, wondering every day if he was going to get away with everything, having to procure an expert witness because my husband was claiming PTSD to get out of paying sufficient child and spousal support, paying out the ass for lawyer fees, and dreading every day I woke up, ended up taking precedence.

I lived in a state that required me to be separated from him for a year. Two months before I could file he went off the deep end and lost his job. I had no idea what kind of a settlement I could expect when he wasn’t even working. Truthfully, I think him getting a job and still not paying his modified amount of support for more than six months ultimately ended up working in my favor. I would have just been seen as a horrible, unsympathetic bitch if I had taken him to court when he had just lost his job and been hospitalized. I thought he was back in the psych ward. I thought he had had a nervous breakdown or could make an excellent case for PTSD because of his latest hospital stay. I wouldn’t find out for six months that he wasn’t suicidal or that it had nothing to do with PTSD. Only when I took him back to court for a show-cause hearing did I find out the truth- that he had been repeatedly drinking on the job and he had been forced to resign. And he had not entered a psych ward; he had gone to the VA and done a mere three day in-patient program. The rest of his time was spent in outpatient therapy and he didn’t even always attend those.

The mobster can say pretty much the same. He forgave her for her previous affair. He endured years and years of her drinking and lying about it. He put up with a lot of shit in order to keep his marriage intact and to give his kids a home with two parents. He suffered through a lot of humiliation in order to keep her happy and to make things work. Finally, she took up with yet another affair partner and eventually left him for that guy. But not before she introduced him as “a friend”. Not before the guy invited him up to join their volunteer firefighter department. Not before the guy gave the mobster’s daughter a ride on his motorcycle. Not before he got to watch his wife ride on the big, shiny firetruck with her “friend” in the Christmas parade. Not before she disappeared for days at a time. The mindfuck was strong with that one.

She made her decision and she doesn’t get to whine about him getting on with his own life. He is not an indentured servant. He does not have to sit faithfully waiting for her to return.

There has been a moment or two where I started to really feel like I was interfering and that if I wasn’t in the picture maybe they would reconcile. It wasn’t often and it’s non-existent now, but when those moments would come he would tell me pretty much the same thing: I am never going back to her. If you left me tomorrow I still wouldn’t go back to her. I am done with her. She is crazy. She is toxic.

He also reiterates that his kids don’t want them together. His oldest son told him when it first happened, “Dad, it’s been over for a long time. You just finally called it.”

Finally, he is very wise. The last time I brought it up he pointed out that despite what she says when she hoovers around, it doesn’t mean anything to her. If she really wanted him back she would take steps towards that, steps like ending it with the other man. Instead it is all talk and absolutely no follow through. She will tell him she will call him the next day, and she doesn’t. She will say she wants to talk but she won’t follow through. She tells him she misses his voice and yet, she’s still with her lover. She’s never made an actual move to go back to him. She merely dips the hook in the water to see if he will still take the bait. If he ever called her bluff and said, “Oh my God yes! I’m still crazy about you! I realize now how much I miss you and I will do anything to make it work!” she would have endless excuses for why now wasn’t the right time and why she couldn’t extricate herself from her relationship with her boyfriend in order to rekindle her relationship with her husband. She doesn’t want him; she just wants him to want her. She wants to keep her Plan B around in case the new boyfriend doesn’t work out.

He, too, lives in a state that requires a one year waiting period. Unlike me, he tried to do an online divorce and get things rolling (again- before we ever met). She refused to sign the papers. She refused to tell him what she wanted. She refused to discuss the divorce with him. Unfortunately for him, the online lawyer he hired only did uncontested divorces, so if she wouldn’t cooperate nothing would happen.

Approximately four months ago she informed him that she had a lawyer and she would be serving him with a divorce petition. They’ve never arrived. Around that same time she made a big show of calling him and yelling at him, telling him she wanted the house she had deserted, and custody of their daughter, a child she abandoned. Nothing has happened since except her continuing to come inside his house and randomly grab things. Sometimes those things were dishes or sentimental items. Another time she came in just to take a light plate. Other times she has taken things like the TV he bought his daughter for Easter. Yep, she took it right out of her kid’s room, and then had the audacity to say, “Did you see me take it? Did you see me walk out of the house with it?” That same day she took the blender he bought after she had already taken the one that was bought while they were married. Also found in her possession? Her son’s baseball mitt.

I can understand those who might think I wouldn’t want to involve myself in the middle of all that crazy, but I don’t understand people thinking that he needs to be faithful to that kind of crazy. She’s a horrible, despicable person. She steals from her own children. There is nothing to work with here, and I don’t think he should be coerced into trying.

With all that said I still think there are situations where you shouldn’t date. If you’re leading your spouse to believe that there is a chance your marriage can be repaired, you shouldn’t be dating.  If you’re in marriage counseling you shouldn’t be dating. If you’re still living with your spouse, you shouldn’t be dating. When you’re telling your spouse you love him or her and you just need some time to think, you shouldn’t be dating. Basically, any time you’re going through anything even resembling reconciliation I would say you shouldn’t be dating. I would even say that in a situation where you want out and there’s no one else, but your spouse is desperate to repair the marriage, you shouldn’t date. You leave your spouse for another person? Well, “dating” is a foregone conclusion although you shouldn’t. But if you’re the one being cheated on? Honey, you do you!

If you don’t want to give your cheater the satisfaction of saying, “He/she is dating, too! See! I’m not doing anything wrong,” then by all means stay single. I think you can live a very satisfying life without being coupled up.

I, personally, don’t need that kind of validation. I’ve come to the conclusion it wouldn’t have mattered what I did in my situation. I would always be the bad guy. And really, I’d much rather he be pissed off because I’m seeing someone, than for him and Harley to be laughing about how pitiful I am, all alone while I work two jobs. He’s going to hate me regardless so let’s give him something worth hating. I find that to be much more satisfying.

Quite honestly I feel like all of the above is way too much explanation for what I’m feeling now. I’m good with what I’m doing. I’ve done nothing wrong. I didn’t lie and sneak around to be with the mobster; he didn’t lie and sneak around to be with me. I was married in name only; I can say the same thing about the mobster. I didn’t destroy their marriage; he didn’t destroy mine. Our spouses did that all on their own when they cheated on us and then left us to be with their affair partners. The only thing we’re guilty of is not letting them steal another minute of our lives. My conscience is clear.