Hurt

The mobster and I were talking one day about the topic of being hurt by infidelity. I responded that CF didn’t hurt me. He pissed me off. He then went on to ask, “You were never hurt by his behavior?”

I had to think about that and I had to go way back to when all this crap first started, back in 2013.

I was extremely naive in 2013. I still thought I was married to an upstanding, honorable guy. A guy who understood and believed in things like: honor, commitment, marriage, fidelity. I never in a million years thought he would cheat on me. How stupid is that? I know I’ve said before that I figured maybe he would one day leave me, but I never thought he’d cheat. STUPID!

So back to me finding out something hinky was up five years ago….

When I first discovered him there, shriveled up in our bathtub, rocking himself back and forth and giving a performance of a lifetime in his self-written, self-directed, self-starring (naturally) play, “Anxiety, Thy Name Is Cousinfucker” I couldn’t begin to imagine what the problem might be. When he tearfully told me, in a whispered voice, “I’ve been texting other women,” the bottom dropped out of my world. I was absolutely shell shocked. This was simply not something that he would do. He had just told me less than 6 weeks prior that he loved me and he had always loved me.

I was so stupid and so naive that I actually convinced myself that he was probably only confessing because he felt guilty that he had actually talked to other women about our marriage. Yes, that’s how far my head was stuck in the ground. I foolishly thought he felt guilty about merely talking to other women, maybe confiding in them about our marriage. At that moment it never occurred to me that he was sexting or saying, “I love you,” to his whore cousin, or making plans for a future with her.

No, it took another whole week or so and a little bit of mind fucking from the whore before I began to suspect that maybe his texting hadn’t been so innocent after all.

I don’t recall feeling hurt back then though. I was sad. I was sad about my marriage potentially ending. I was sad about disrupting my kids’ lives. I was sad about the implosion of a 17 year relationship. I was sad that I had let things get to that point (and yes, at that point I was willing to shoulder almost all of the blame). I remember crying. I remember wanting things to go back. I remember wanting our marriage to work out and to be restored. I remember wanting him to love me again. But I don’t remember being hurt, or feeling hurt. Sadness was my overwhelming emotion.

Yet I spent the next three months trying to show him what life could be like for us. I spent the next three months “pick me” dancing, trying to cautiously woo him back. I rejoiced when he tenderly fed me a piece of tenderloin he had grilled. I was thrilled with every seeming loving gesture from him. He never said, “I love you,” and I didn’t say it either as I didn’t want to push him and “scare him”.

I wasn’t completely sure the whore was gone at first. She was very good with the mind fuck- posting little inspirational quotes, liking his pictures. And then came the day I believed she was gone for good and we were back on track. Followed shortly by her husband contacting me and letting me know they were still at it.

Hurt? Oh, honey, I was pissed! There was no hurt. There was only fury. “What in the fuck are you doing and why are you doing it? Are you seriously willing to give up your wife and kids for your cousin? She’s a fantasy, not reality.”

I was not nice. I was not calm, although I wasn’t as out of control as one would think I might be. Hey, I had a party to throw; I would not disappoint Rock Star. I yelled. I told him outright that he needed to shit or get off the pot, that I deserved to be happy, too, and I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for him to dump me when Picasso graduated from high school.

I felt certain that divorce was imminent. I didn’t think he would “pick” me. I was pretty certain after I issued my ultimatum (you end it now or we’re done) that he was going to pick her (and he did- it just took him two more years of wasting my life and completely destroying the lives we all had out in Utah before he could do it). But I remember being so happy when I got the text message that he was going to end it, that he didn’t want to lose any of us. Blech! I should have left his sorry ass back then and saved myself a whole lot of trouble.

I had sadness when I thought my marriage was over. I had fury/anger when I realized he had been duping me all summer long. But I can’t say that he ever hurt me. His behavior the first time stunned me but it didn’t hurt me. His behavior the second time pissed me off.

I think what actually hurt me more than anything was realizing what a bunch of complete assholes his family was. They never cut the whore off. I was disposable; she was not. It took me a very long time to wrap my mind around that. Naturally, just as I began to forgive them and gradually allow them back into my life he cheated once again and they, once again, were done with me and fawning all over and supporting his union with Harley.

Fast forward two years and once again I find out he’s cheating. Again I’m in disbelief. Not hurt. Frantic. Juggling twenty million things. Keeping all those plates spinning. Thinking about the situation financially and not with my penis.

Seriously- he had been a mess for more than six months. He had emotionally drained me. I was perpetually in fear that he was going to have a massive breakdown and we would end up bankrupt. He had moved us 2000 miles across the country because this job was supposed to make him happy and he was so miserable out in Utah, and yet here he was less than a year later, crying in bed and supposedly unable to function. I don’t know why but I had this feeling that he was once again involved with the whore. I was probably right.

I wasn’t sad; I was suicidal. I wasn’t suicidal because the great love of my life might be off and running with the whore. I was suicidal because I could not take anymore of his shit- the crying, the drinking, the unhappiness, shutting himself off from the rest of us, breaking down every time we turned around, unable to take him anywhere, never able to make him happy, watching all of our dreams collapse around our feet in this new place with no friends and no support. I was mentally exhausted. I had been sold some magic beans, but unlike those beans that led to the goose that laid the golden eggs, my beans were old and rancid and led to nothing except total destruction.

I had kept trudging on. I would put my head down and keep going. We would fix this. We would be happy once again, like we had been. All those dreams we talked about when we talked about moving would become a reality. I was convinced I could do it by sheer will power alone. Until I could no longer do it.

I remember getting that message from The Saint, and my heart sinking. It didn’t break; it sank. Now I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Keep those plates spinning!

He had no worries. He didn’t care about what would happen to the house. He didn’t care about the upheaval the kids would experience. He didn’t think about the pool we had just put in our backyard, or the money we had spent decorating and furnishing this new house. He didn’t think about the new car he had just bought for me, or the two new kittens we had, or the new cell phone company we had just switched to. He was fucking his cousin. The world was his oyster! No, I was left to worry about those things.

So no, once again, I was not hurt. I was in a panic. I had kids to worry about and protect. I was worried about the house. Our mortgage was less than a year old and I had no idea how I would ever be able to afford to maintain this house on my own. I didn’t know if I would get enough in support to pay the mortgage, much less be able to replace a furnace or air conditioning unit if necessary. How would I make repairs to the house and keep the yard and pool up? I worried about how we were going to pay off the pool and our other debts. I worried about whether or not the kids would be attending their current schools or I would have to uproot them once again and move in with my mom. While I was tasked with letting Rock Star and Picasso know that their parents were getting a divorce, he was off having another fuck-fest weekend with Harley the Whore.

I kept the house clean, went grocery shopping, made breakfast and dinner for my kids, chauffeured my daughter, and took care of the dogs and cats. I stayed involved in their schools and activities, and paid the bills and went on field trips with them, while I also worried about finding a job and what I was going to do, how I was going to find insurance once the divorce was final, and learning how to live on a whole lot less than we had been living on. There wasn’t time to be hurt. I was trying to survive.

Sure, there were moments when I wept. There were moments of sadness, like when I realized our house wouldn’t be decorated outside and hers would, because he had always done the outside decorations. He did nothing for us; everything was about her and her kids. Or when I felt sure I was going to be alone forever and he, a complete and total anti-social fuck up had someone new already. Or finding out how deep his betrayal had run- all the lies about the money being sent to his mom, phones being purchased for her, a joint bank account with the whore and the rest of his stock cashed in and given to her.

Him losing his job and forcing us to move was devastating, but I can’t say it was hurtful. It was yet another blow and another shit sundae I was forced to eat while he was off doing whatever the fuck he wanted. You know how that makes me feel? Angry!

Everything that has happened since June 10th, 2016 has enraged me. Forcing us out of our home, leaving me to be the one to tell our kids that we were going to have to move again, a mere two years later, having to sell off all of my belongings, moving in with my mom and sleeping on the couch, having to watch Rock Star cry as she realized she wouldn’t be getting her license on time, watching Rock Star struggle at school, working two jobs and still barely able to afford much of anything, stocking shelves at Target, getting up at 1:30, 2:30 and 3:30 in the morning to go to work, not being able to support myself, watching my kids suffer, wondering if he was going to get away with everything and not have to pay squat in support, hearing all the lies he and his family have spread about me, losing time with my kids, always being tired and feeling like a failure at this mom gig, learning about all the money those two nitwits spent while my kids and I lived like paupers. It was infuriating, but not hurtful.

The reality is, at least the second time around, I lost every bit of feeling I ever had for him the moment I discovered what he was up to. He didn’t hurt me; he disgusted me.

I have a visceral reaction to this idea that I write the things I do because I’m hurt. Nope. I write the things I do because I’m pissed off when I think about all the hell that asshole put me through. I write the things I do because I hope that someone who has just discovered a cheating spouse will come across my blog and read my story and not make the same stupid mistakes that I did. I hope they will see the futility in it and that they will do the sane thing and get the fuck out. I hope those that choose to stay will read my story and be able to discern the difference between being truly sorry and wanting to avoid any painful consequences. That when their spouse tries to blame them for the affair, or refuses to tell them the truth when asked for it, or when they want to avoid the topic of the affair, that they can say, “This is unacceptable. We’re doing it my way or you’re getting the fuck out because I’m not dealing with your shit.”

Hurt has never been a part of my story. I’ve been sad, I’ve been despondent and suicidal, and I’ve been angry, pissed, enraged… pick your adjective. This past year I’ve been hopeful and very, very happy. Yet I don’t think there will ever come a day when I just shrug at his antics. I don’t think I will ever get to the point where I am not pissed off about everything he put us through and everything he took from us. He changed the course of our lives; he changed our destinies and altered our futures. There is so much that he took, so much that he altered. I have hope for my kids that they will be able to forge a new future, despite what their father has chosen to do to them, and yet I still feel the very real pain of everything they’ve lost. This is not the life I would have chosen for them and I will always regret the things they missed out on, no matter how the future plays out. I do not hurt when I look at the ruins of our lives, but I do mourn.

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Missing the Affair Partner… One More Time

I believe I have written about cheaters who miss the affair partner (here, here, here, here, and here) and wish for understanding and sympathy. I haven’t been very gentle about that. #sorrynotsorry

I thought I would try it again after reading a comment on another blog. The comment was basically that most men have a bond with the other woman and that they’re put in this Catch-22 situation where they’re supposed to be open and vulnerable with their wives but gosh darn it, no one seems to understand how much they miss that ho. And no one is sympathetic to that. No one understands what a loss that is. Rats!

I’m going to try to reply to this with a level head and like I really care that a lying cheater misses his morally bankrupt whore. How am I doing so far? LOL I’m just yanking your chain. I know that is not very level headed of me. Do I get points for recognizing that? I can’t help it. I’ve been hurt before…

Seriously though. This is my thought process. No one wants to hear that the person you love is missing someone that caused you so much grief and agony.

It would be like if my boyfriend/husband had a friend. Let’s call him Charlie. And he did tons of stuff with Charlie- going out to dinner, skiing, golfing, hunting, meeting for beers after work. Then one day Charlie rapes me, or beats the shit out of me and puts me in the hospital. I press charges against Charlie and he goes to prison. And then my partner sighs wistfully and tells me with tears in his eyes, “Gosh, I’m really going to miss Charlie. We always had so much fun together.”

Are you fucking shitting me? Maybe instead of reminiscing about all the fun you had drinking beer, eating hot wings, and playing bar trivia with Charlie, you should focus on the grievous injury he caused me!

“Gosh, Sam, you don’t seem to even try to understand that I’m hurting, too. I’ve suffered a loss- a real loss.”

Yeah, I suffered a concussion and several broken bones. I’ll try to be more understanding while I’m going through physical therapy.

This interloper has helped to cause endless amounts of turmoil. Many times they are at the forefront, taunting the wife. He loves me. If you were giving him everything he needed at home he wouldn’t be with me. He wants me, not you. I love him too much to ever walk away. If he wanted this to end, he would end it, but he doesn’t so there is no way I’ll ever walk away.

You betray us with this person and then you want sympathy because you have to give her up. Please understand that I miss this person who has caused you so much pain. I have a bond with her! I feel a real connection.

It’s a wonderful feeling knowing that you are not enough. Knowing that even though your partner supposedly wants to work things out with you that he’s still missing his affair partner and mourns the loss of her. He may always yearn for her and what could have been, and you’re expected to be okay with that and to tell him you understand. Tell me more. Cry on my shoulder. Would a threesome help? How about if I just let you bring her on over and you can fuck her right in our bed? Feeling better? Great! Sorry, I know that’s not very level headed. I’m trying to be nice.

Another reason your partner might not be so sympathetic to your plight? She loves you; you have her undivided loyalty. She does not have yours. While you are first in her life, she has been placed in the backseat for your mistress. You’ve probably shared secrets about her with this other woman. You may have even told her lies about your partner. She has not done that to you and yet she is supposed to be understanding. She doesn’t know for certain that if she and the mistress were both trapped in a burning building that you would rush to save her before the mistress. Maybe she would die while you tried to figure out a way to save them both.

This bond that you speak of between you and your mistress comes at the expense of your supposed primary relationship. If she never agreed to a non-monogamous relationship then she probably doesn’t buy into your explanation that your love is not like a pie, where there is only so much to divvy up and as more and more people enter the picture, the smaller the slice you get. No, rather your love continues to expand, much like a parent can love more than one child.

The problem with that is most people don’t consider their relationship with their partner to be similar to their relationship with their child. It is definitely a pie situation.

I find it difficult to believe that you can be all in with two or three or four different people. No, what generally happens is that each person gets a little part of you, but no one ever gets the whole you. Or in the case of affairs, one person meets 90% of your needs while the other person meets 10% but you believe that that 10% is so much more valuable than the 90% your partner offers up.

That’s about all the niceties I can do. My real thought process on this is that if you miss your mistress so much then go to her. Stop wasting my time. I deserve to be happy, too; being invested in a person who is mooning over a whore does not make me happy. You are not the only person in this relationship and your feelings and wants are not the only ones that need to be considered. Go to your mistress and let’s see if you explain to her that while you’ve chosen her she still needs to understand that you miss me very much and you shared a very deep bond with me.

I doubt it. That’s not usually what you read. It’s more along the lines of: My affair partner is simply fabulous. She (or he) is everything my spouse is not. She (or he) understands me. We have an ethereal connection.

There is no missing the primary partner. There is no thought of the primary partner. Only the affair partner.

I don’t think most cheaters would enjoy being compared to someone else. I don’t think they would appreciate hearing how their partner misses how much fun she used to have with Marco because he always took her to such amazing places. Or how she really misses Blake’s money and all that he used to buy for her. Or how fantastic Owen was in bed. Or that Ben just gets her and you don’t.

Your wife/girlfriend/partner doesn’t enjoy that either. And yet the expectation is understanding, sympathy. You poor lamb. You must be in terrible pain.

I can admit without a shred of embarrassment that I am a possessive and jealous person. I do not share. I have no interest in sharing. The mobster knows this about me. He knows that if he wants a non-monogamous relationship that I am not the woman for him. He knows that if he lies about wanting a monogamous relationship in order to “win” me and then fucks around on me that I will end the relationship without a second thought, and that there will be no second chances. He also knows that it is a two way street. I will never be unfaithful and I would never expect, nor even ask for, a second a chance if for some unknown reason I did do the unthinkable.

I like to tease him about our conversations way back in the beginning when we first began talking. I don’t think either of us really thought this would go anywhere so we were free to talk about anything and to be very open and honest about it. In one of our first conversations I remember him telling me he would always love his wife. I even still have a text message where he made that comment.

You know what I thought to myself when I heard that? No, it wasn’t, “Oh, I’m going to change his mind!” It was, “He is not relationship material.” I was not going to compete with the memories of his wife. I was not going to get involved with yet another person who longed for someone else yet settled for me.

I was in a relationship for 20 years where I was basically ignored, thrown under the bus, and never made a priority. He never stuck up for me. He cheated. He didn’t respect me as a person. And he probably mooned over Harley while I tried to be understanding and forgiving and work on all of my faults in order to repair our relationship. I will never accept that again.

If the mobster truly believed that he would always love his wife then he was free to do so. Quite honestly there was no way that I could ever stop it. But if that’s how he felt then we would never evolve beyond friends because I was not going to share again, and I would not be put in second place yet again. If I ever chose to date again then I was going to have that man’s undivided attention. He would have no torn loyalties. There would be no, “I love you but you need to understand….” in regards to another woman. You can love her all day long but you need to go along your way and leave me the fuck alone because I don’t share and I sit at the head of the table.

When you ask your partner to sympathize with you because you’re missing your affair partner, or to recognize the fact that you have a bond with that other person, you are asking your partner to take second place. You are telling your partner that he or she is not enough for you. Your loyalties are divided. We are left always wondering, “If you left me and went to your affair partner would you miss me like you miss her (or him)?”

Hurt People Hurt People and Other Bullshit

I’m lying. There will be no other bullshit. I’m focusing solely on that insane idea that hurt people hurt people so let’s cut them some slack!

That seems to be a popular saying in the infidelity world. You can’t really hold it against the cheater; after all, they’re hurt and you know that hurt people hurt people.

What bullshit! It is yet another excuse to excuse the inexcusable. I cheated on you because I’ve been hurt before.

Stand in line. I’m pretty sure I’ve said that before.

I’m wondering, what kind of hell do I get to heap upon others? I’ve been hurt. I was moved across the country, had my whole life ripped out from under me to start all over in the land we call Virginia. It was supposed to be a better life. This was his dream job. We were going to buy our dream house and be able to give our kids a wonderful future. A year into that new life, a year spent struggling to acclimate, I was hit over the head with the news that my darling husband was cheating on me yet again with his whore cousin.

You all know the story by now. Eventually I was forced to move out of my home, sell off or leave behind pretty much every tangible item I ever owned as an adult, and move in with my mother where I sleep on the couch to this day. I worked two jobs, stocking shelves at one of them. I worked twelve and sixteen hour days, going in at 2 in the morning some days and working until 8 in the evening. Even after finally finding full time employment I worked two jobs, going in at 4 am and working before coming home to pick my daughter up and take her to school, and then coming back home to get ready for a full day at work. I had very little money, even working two jobs. I begged for death for many months. And in the meantime Cousinfucker and Harley lived it up.

New puppies, a new house, going places, doing things. He was living a dream and I was living a nightmare.

So what do I get to do to other people? Because I’ve very clearly been hurt. Do I get to steal from others? Do I get to kill? Do I just get to fuck with other people’s minds, because after all, I’ve been hurt? Do I get to cheat and lie and excuse it all with that ridiculous, “hurt people hurt people” bullshit?

What about my kids? Both of them have essentially been abandoned by their father. Their lives, too, were torn apart- first when we left Utah and the only life they really knew, and second when they found out a mere one year later that their father was cheating on me and we were going to divorce. Let’s not forget the following year when I got to break the news that we were going to have to move yet again!

What kind of sociopathic tendencies can we excuse in them? Can they bully other kids and get away with it? Can they do drugs and abuse alcohol? We’ll excuse all of it because they’ve suffered. They’ve had a hardship. Let’s not expect any civilized behavior out of them. Look at what kind of a father they have for an example!

What about the mobster? He was faced with a lying, cheating, alcoholic wife for a good twelve years. I would imagine he has built up quite a bit of “hurt people hurt people” currency. He ended up pulling up roots (selling his kids’ childhood home, selling his business) and moving from his beloved New England down to Virginia thanks to her behavior. He has endured much humiliation at the hands of his wife, and to this day she continues to spread malicious lies about him. I think he’s entitled to be a dick to pretty much whomever. He’s definitely been hurt. Does that excuse him mistreating me? Cheating on me? Lying to me?

Or what about my cousin? She lost her son three days after he arrived in Afghanistan. What kind of horrible things does she get to do? You want to talk about hurt? I can’t imagine a greater hurt than losing a child.

I have a friend from a previous life that I keep up with through Facebook. In the last several years she has lost her young nephew to a brain tumor, her father to cancer, and she herself was diagnosed with cancer a year ago. I figure she’s good for at least one free gas station robbery, or maybe a pistol whipping of someone. Since we want to stay away from criminal activity what else could she do? Berate bank tellers and food servers? Harass crossing guards and grocery store clerks? Ignore her husband and child?

It’s a cop out. It’s an excuse. People don’t cheat because they’ve been hurt before. They cheat because they feel entitled to cheat. They cheat because the payoff of the affair is worth losing their relationship if they’re discovered. Actually, I take that back.  They don’t think they’ll ever be discovered. I think another huge part of it so we’re so used to reading stuff that urges us to forgive, urges us to reconcile. Why, your partner practically owes it to you to forgive you! And not just forgive you but to figure out where their part comes in, how they failed you as a partner. It takes two, we’re frequently told; therefore, they need to figure out where they went wrong that made you cheat on them. Anything less is just giving up. Obviously the relationship wasn’t that important to them so see, you weren’t wrong to cheat; they must not have loved you enough.

Do you want to know an interesting fact? It has long been touted that most people who abuse their children have been victims of abuse themselves. I was curious one day so I looked up the statistics of abused children growing up and abusing their own children. The way it is talked about you would almost think it’s a foregone conclusion that if you were abused as a child you will go on to abuse your own child. Did you know that it is only roughly one third of those abused kids that will continue the cycle of abuse? One third.

That means two thirds of them were abused and vowed to do better. Two thirds of them didn’t settle for the excuse that they were abused and therefore their fate was to abuse their own children. They learned what not to do. They vowed they would never heap that kind of abuse on someone else. Two thirds of them made that choice. One third of them used it as justification.

Yes, studies show that the person abusing his or her child probably was abused himself or herself. The more important statistic, though, is that not even close to everyone who was abused goes on to perpetrate more abuse on others.

Where do you fall? Are you going to wreck havoc upon other people’s lives and justify that by telling everyone you’ve been hurt? Or will that circle of hurt stop with you?

See, the thing about excuses is that it doesn’t change anything. It just tries to explain bad behavior away. As I have long said, since I was 21 years old, “Your past may explain your behavior, but it doesn’t excuse it.” I think that is a far more helpful model to live by.

More Advice From Mort

Oh, Mort; you’ve gotta love him. The mobster googled him and apparently for a mere $775/hour you can see him in person for counseling. If you want the intensive in-home counseling though you’ll have to shell out $8500/day plus travel expenses.

I told the mobster I was going into business for myself. For a bargain price of $5000/day I will follow you around and slap you upside the head whenever you start to feel pity for your cheater. I will research the hell out of Chump Lady blogs and give you snarky, sane advice. I will tell you that you deserve better and try to compel you to look at the reasons you’re willing to settle for so little. I’ll regal you with stories of how life can be so much better without a cheater. I’ll tell you that you can do this, that you are mighty, that you can overcome all obstacles. I’ll hopefully get you to realize there are no such things as personality transplants, and that the person you’re leaving is not a good person if they could do these things to you. If you wish to do this over the phone? $225/hour. Same price for in person counseling sessions. I figure I have as much experience and training as good ol’ Mort so why not?

Alas, the problem is no one wants to hear my message. They all want to believe that it can be fixed and that there is a magic formula to save every marriage. No one wants to hear that their partner is an entitled nitwit. They don’t want to be told that they are doing all the work while the spouse who should be doing the work is sitting back watching you dance.

They want to be told that deep down the cheating spouse is a good person. They’re suffering from toxic shame. They’re in a fog or suffering a midlife crisis. That “hurt people hurt people”. They have FOO issues. They don’t trust. They’re afraid of being vulnerable. They need your 100% guarantee that if they agree to give up the side piece you’ll promise not to leave (and to never bring up the affair again either).

That’s where Mort comes in. Listen to him and he guarantees that your marriage will be restored and you’ll be more in love than ever, or your money back.

I’ll give you his tips for free, but not without a bit of added snark.

  1. Don’t spy! Spying is bad; cheating not so much. According to Mort, spying is another form of betrayal. <gasp> Yes, spying is just like fucking another person behind your spouse’s back. They are exactly the same. It is, as he likes to call it, a violation of trust. You know what violates your trust, Mort?  Being moved 2000 miles across the damn country so your husband can get closer to his whore cousin! Having your husband try to get you to send naked pictures while he’s with his whore cousin. Showing other people naked pictures he’s taken of you while you were asleep. Telling you that he’s sending his mom money every week when the reality is he’s sending Harley the Whore money. Letting you get online and pay his whore’s cell phone bill. Those are violations of trust. Checking phones, hacking into emails, following a spouse, or plotting to put a voice activated recorder in cars pales in comparison. Not to mention those actions are all taken due to the mindfuck the betrayed spouse is living through. He urges you “not to go there” because you’ll just add to the distrust in the marriage and make matters worse. Yes, trying to get honest answers is the root of all evil. Few marriages can withstand that. Remember folks, it’s not the cheating that is the problem. It is uncovering the cheating that is the problem. Maintain your decency and integrity, chump! Okay, he didn’t call you a chump; I did. But it’s the same damn thing. Eat that shit sundae and smile while you’re doing it! You’re the better person!
  2. Hang in there! Put your life on hold! The vast majority of affairs end within a year, he tells us.  You’ve got nothing better to do than to wait out the affair partner. The affair will die. And surely there will never be another one. Don’t make an impulsive decision. Don’t impose consequences. Don’t think about yourself and what you deserve. Hang in there until the affair runs its natural course. Because again, you’ve got nothing better to do than to wait for your unfaithful spouse to wake up and come back to you. Your needs don’t matter. You don’t matter. Only the cheater matters. He goes on to advise that after the affair dies maybe you and your spouse might see your marriage and your future differently. Yep, I’m sure the cheater is thinking, “Holy shit! I can’t believe I almost had to do all this shit on my own!  Who would have done my dishes? Who would have done my laundry? Who would have cooked for me? Who would have contributed to the bank account? Who would have taken care of the kids? I don’t want to be alone. I need somebody to be here to take care of me and make my life easy. Plus… sex.
  3. Kill ‘em with kindness. I like the way you’re thinking I just don’t like your technique. I was thinking more along the lines of a crowbar Mort realizes the cheater doesn’t deserve it but offers up this gem: If you want to spoil his (or her) affair and turn your marriage around, don’t treat your spouse the way he treats you; treat your spouse the way you want him to treat you. He believes that the cheating spouse wants the betrayed spouse to leave them alone so they feel “emotionally free” to philander, but when you extend kindness it tugs on their conscience and ruins their justification for betraying you. No, Mort, no it doesn’t. That is not how this works. Cheaters cheat because they can. They feel entitled to cheat and they have crappy character. They look at kindness as a weakness. You tell your cheating spouse that nothing they do will ever make you stop loving them and they’ll kick you even harder. They are never thinking about you; they think about themselves. They love nothing more than being central. They fuck around and you dance as fast as you can to try to entice them back. It is one huge platter of cake to them.
  4. Seduce ‘em. Oh brother. He does say that no one should do anything sexually they don’t want to. I want to make that clear before I tear him a new one. He goes on to offer this useful nugget: …it’s helpful to rev up the sexual part of your relationship. Your friend may have told you, “Don’t let him have his cake and eat it too.” Yeah, you’ll feel vindicated withholding sex. But what will that accomplish? Perhaps they will preserve their dignity? Then again, who cares about your dignity when you’re fighting for your man (or woman)? It’s punitive; it’s not healing. Um, excuse me, but not having sex with someone who clearly has no respect for you and who has more than likely been gas lighting and lying to you for God only knows how long is not punitive. It’s common sense. Obviously if the cheated on spouse wishes to have sex, feel free, but how dare you try to shame someone into fucking their lying, cheating spouse? Show her (or him) what she (or he) will be missing if he takes his business elsewhere. Ah, the ol’ pick me dance performed on your back. Or your knees. Or cowgirl style. Hey, my mother isn’t the only one with a dirty mouth.

What do I know? My husband cheated and I didn’t follow Mort’s brilliant advice and now I’m divorced. Would I still be married if I had followed it? Pretended everything was fine? Seduced him on a regular basis? Never checked his phone?  I doubt it. What he wanted was total annihilation of the past. Don’t ever bring it up. Don’t ever let it affect you. Be grateful that I, cheating, lying CF, gave you a second chance. Be grateful that I chose you, Sam, over the cunt face cum dumpster.

I feel that I did do a lot of what Mort suggests. I listened with an open mind. I made changes and gave him what he said he wanted. All the changes were on my end, though; none on his. After October of 2013, a mere two months after finding out he had sniffed her out again and had been carrying on with her all summer long, I didn’t bring it up again until we were ready to move and he tried to keep me off the deed to our new house in Virginia. But that wasn’t enough for him. I wasn’t allowed to have any feelings about his affair with her. I was supposed to grant immediate forgiveness to everyone in his family, despite the fact that none of them asked for it, and none of them cut ties with her. And God forbid I have a bad day!

That brings me to my final point. Perhaps the real question isn’t whether or not I would still be married if I had followed Mort’s advice. The real question is whether or not I’m better off now without him. The answer to that is a resounding YES!

Warning: Unapologetic happy photos ahead.

How could I not be madly in love with someone who writes love letters on the sidewalk?

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My new favorite, I think.

 

Yes, maybe I could have kept my lying, cheating husband if I had followed Mort’s advice; but then I would have missed out on all of this.

To the Moon and Back… But Only Until 8:30!

O.M.G. I am over here dying. I literally laughed out loud upon seeing this.

As you may recall CF is in a little snit and is mad at me, calling me names, etc. Eh, I don’t care. As Rhianna would say, “Bitch better have my money.”

I’m looking at my Venmo transfer (because that’s how we do it now) and I am once again looking at his calculations for Rock Star’s prorated child support. I knew he calculated it through her graduation date, but what I didn’t realize until just now was that the cheap ass sonofabitch calculated it through 8:30 pm on the day of her graduation! Yep, the minute she graduated she was officially no longer his responsibility. Couldn’t even bear to pay for the entire day. What an ass. It really puts all that, “I love you to the moon and back,” bullshit in a different light.

The other bit of irony to this is an observation by the mobster after I told him about the prorated child support. He said that CF must have had ulterior motives in coming up for her graduation. Wanted to make sure she graduated so he could have more money in his pocket. At the time I didn’t think that was a possibility but seeing as how he calculated it out to the fucking half hour his daughter graduated, I think the mobster was on to something.

Hey, at least he rounded up instead of shorting me the penny. That’s something, right?

You can’t make this shit up!

Lilacs

Maybe it’s because I’ve been sick most of the day so I’m more sentimental than usual, although what being sentimental has to do with being sick I’m not so sure.

The mobster called me when I finally got out of bed for good around 3 pm (I told you I was sick- I’ve had a headache all day and was puking this morning). He actually called more like around 5 and we were talking about everything like we normally do. He was showing me his crepe myrtle tree and I said something about how good it smelled. He said he didn’t think it gave off much of an odor which got us talking about his magnolia tree. I reminded him that when I was there the last time I had commented on how much fragrance the magnolia tree was giving off and that it smelled heavenly. He thought that day it wasn’t so much the magnolias but the crepe myrtle. He was wrong; I was right.

Anyway, he was lamenting the short season of magnolias. He thought they should last much longer considering they were in a warm climate. I reminded him that we both also love lilacs, and those trees/bushes don’t last very long either.

“Those grow up north, though, in harsh conditions. They bloom at the end of winter to show you that life still goes on,” he told me.

That’s so appropriate for us, two bloggers cheated on by our spouses, living hundreds of miles apart, who both love the smell of lilacs and who were brought together by chance. We’ve been through the harshest of circumstances and yet here we are, still alive and blooming. We can smile at each other, laugh together, and say, “Life still goes on.”

It does, you know. No matter what you go through life continues to march on. You can fight it all you want. You can wallow in self-pity. God knows I did that for a good long time. You can rage against the injustice. God knows I did that, too; I’m sure there are some who would say I still do that. Hopefully though, you emerge from your harsh winter like the lilacs and tell everyone you’re still here. You exist and life can still be beautiful; even the harshest circumstances can’t keep you down.

I love you, Mobster. We will always find time to stop and smell the lilacs.

Do They Lie To Protect Us?

I was reading another blog not long ago and the author was talking about lying and the different types of lying. Apparently, the only bad kind of lying is the kind where you are purposefully trying to harm another person. It’s okay to lie to protect someone’s feelings. It’s okay (although non-productive) to lie to yourself. It’s okay to lie to protect yourself.

I’m not going to quibble about the rightness or wrongness of the different types of lies. What I do take issue with is this idea presented that cheaters lie to protect our feelings.

No, they do not. CF did not lie to me about Harley because he wanted to protect my feelings. He lied to me so that when he sent her money and told me, “Oh, if you see wire transfers I’ve been sending money to my mom for groceries,” I would never question him and say something like, “Really? Are you sure you’re not funneling marital funds to your no good, hooker-whore cousin?” He lied to me so that he could buy his cousin and her kid new iPhones when her own husband tossed them off his plan, and I would be none the wiser. I dutifully got online and paid that bill for the next few months before I realized what was going on. He lied to me so that he could go away for the weekend and not have to explain himself when he got back because I thought he was visiting his mom, or seeing his best friend. He lied to me so that he could get his ducks lined up in order to leave us. He set up a bank account. He interviewed for jobs. His plan was to not say a word and just vanish one day. None of that shit was about protecting my feelings.

Yes, finding out my husband was cheating on me was horrific. It hurt like hell. Finding out I had been duped was much worse. Never once did that man think, “Oh my, if Sam ever found out I was fucking my cousin again it would destroy her. I simply must keep this under wraps and lie to protect her fragile feelings.” No, his thought process was much more along the lines of, “How can I get out of this marriage with the most stuff and the least consequences?”

If he cared so much about my feelings and how hurt I would be a simple solution would have been to NOT have an affair.

This idea that cheaters lie to protect our feelings is absolute bullshit. No, it goes beyond that. It’s infuriating. They don’t lie to protect us. They lie to protect themselves.