I Can Say I Tried

A comment caught my eye the other day. Someone was beating herself up for giving the cheater another chance. Someone else wrote back that she, too, tried reconciliation- for 10 plus more years. The takeaway was that the commenter was trying to save her family. She *had* to try. And in the end at least she can say she tried to make it work.

Why? Why do we pat ourselves on the back for trying so hard when the cheater does nothing?

I’m not judging or criticizing. I did it, too. As you may recall the first DDay I had supposedly involved an emotional affair only. We lived in Utah. Harley lived in Kentucky. Jerry Lee had 2 opportunities where he could have met up with her in person. He consistently denied ever seeing her in person. Let’s say that’s true. It was strictly an emotional affair (at this point I don’t care; it makes absolutely no difference). I did my best to reconcile. I tried my hardest to keep everything together. I didn’t want to lose my family. I didn’t want to be divorced. I didn’t want to lose my lifestyle. I certainly didn’t want to see her slip into my old life.

Now I look back and I think to myself, “Why did I bother?” It’s not as though I feel better because I tried. I don’t think I gained anything; in fact, I could probably argue that trying cost me.

I see comments from people who spend years attempting to reconcile and keep the marriage together. Spouse eventually leaves. The comments are always, “At least I tried,” or, “I gave it my best shot. I can say I did the work and attempted to save it,” or, “At least I know I did everything possible to save my marriage.”

My attitude now is pretty much, “Why? Why is this something to be proud of?” Why do we waste so much energy on someone that is not worth it?

We waste years, yes, years, trying to make the relationship work. Relationships only work when both people are invested. When you’re dealing with a cheater you’re dealing with someone who either doesn’t care or only cares when they see consequences on the horizon. As I’ve said on more than one occasion, “Your cheater doesn’t give a shit about rebuilding the marriage. They just don’t want to suffer the consequences of a divorce.” There’s a big difference between the two.

I suppose there’s no real way to know how often a second, or third, or fourth chance is given and it finally sticks. You don’t usually hear those stories. And a lot of people think they have a unicorn but it turns out the unicorn is simply hiding their activities a lot better. So what I see every day are stories after stories of people who gave it their all. They tried, dammit. They gave it the ol’ college try and did their damnedest to save their family. They lost weight, had more sex, texted more, dressed sexier, did their best to keep their children acting like angels so as not to annoy, disappoint, or embarrass the cheater, wore makeup, picked up more hours, never questioned the spouse’s behavior, never complained, never mentioned the affair, got a boob job, consented to sexual acts they did not want to engage in, had dinner on the table, made him lunch to take to work, got up early to make him breakfast, and a whole host of other things. They danced and danced and danced, yet in the end it didn’t matter. The cheater cheated again. What a surprise!

My question is why do we feel so compelled to “do everything possible” to save a marriage with a cheater? Why is that the success? Why are we brainwashed into thinking we are obligated to waste another 2, or 5, or 15, or 25 years on a person who obviously doesn’t respect us, doesn’t love us, and doesn’t value us?

I took my cheater back because I felt I owed it to him and to our family. I didn’t want my kids to come from a broken home. I didn’t want to split holidays. I thought we were happy once again but ten years later he did it again. Only this time I didn’t get a chance to do the pick me dance. This time he just left and moved in with the other woman. I don’t regret it though. I will always know I tried. I put my all into saving this marriage. He didn’t. Shame on him. I can walk with my head held high.

First, let me say I do get it. Its a traumatizing event when you see this life you built slipping through your fingers. It is rage inducing when you see another person seamlessly take your place and reap the fruits of your hard work. And I don’t wish to minimize losing time with your children. All of those are perfectly legitimate things to worry about. But here’s the thing. You may face all of that anyway. He (or she) cheats again and as stated above you don’t get a chance to try to make things work this time. This time they’ve chosen to walk. You’re no longer needed.

After trying you’re now older. Maybe significantly older. Maybe you had another baby or two. Now in addition to this horrendous divorce you get to enjoy attempting to co-parent for years to come still. Your employment gap is larger. You have bigger daycare bills because of the extra child or two you had while reconciling. Your skills have gotten weaker and more outdated. You have less time to plan for your future- the one you’ll be spending without the cheater.

Don’t even get me started on the cheaters who beg for reconciliation only so they can get their ducks lined up- new place, new furniture, new woman- all while draining the marital accounts. They tell you you can get that back- the whole “marital waste”. The truth is once it’s gone it’s gone. If the cheater doesn’t have a way to pay you you just won’t get it.

So, why don’t we normalize not throwing ourselves at a cheater? Normalize not giving a second chance. Make it a good thing when someone has definite boundaries and deal breakers.

He cheated on me and I left. He knew from the very beginning cheating was a deal breaker. Yes, it was difficult. I walked away from an entire life. I walked away from what I thought my future was going to be. But instead of spending years trying to forgive and more importantly, trying to prove to him that he made the right choice in staying with me, I chose to leave and focus on my own self. I went back to school, went to graduate school, switched careers, built a business, got a promotion, bought a house on my own, bought a car on my own, decorated my house the way I wanted, discovered new hobbies, lost weight, cut my hair, got a tattoo, dyed my hair pink, pierced my nose, found out I liked my own company. I raised my kids. I was the sane parent, the one they could depend on. We went on vacation. We created new memories. We celebrated the holidays and came up with new traditions. I watched them graduate, get married, have babies. I spent time with friends and family. I cultivated real relationships with people who gave just as much as I gave to them. I didn’t waste another 5, 10, 20 years on a cheater who was going to end up cheating on me again. My kids saw me blossom. They saw a confident, strong person who was always there for them and did the tough jobs even when I was exhausted. My kids saw me become me again.

Let’s make that the norm and throw out this ridiculous notion that we owe a cheater years more of our lives.

Olivia Munn Wants Congratulations On Her Adultery Baby

I heard a new term after all of the fallout from Adam Levine and Ned Fulmer. The term is “wife guy.” These are men who are all about their wives and how much they love them. They build a career off of this schtick. Meanwhile, when no one is looking they’re out there cheating on these same wives they profess to love so much with no name Instagram models and/or co-workers. I’m sure it’s not limited to those two types.

Apparently, John Mulaney completed the trifecta of these wife guys which is actually kinda funny when you consider he was the first one to fuck over his wife. His stand up comedy talked about his wife, how great she was, how capable she was, and how much he loved her.

I found him to be very funny. I loved so many of his routines. I also noticed how he never talked down about his wife and seemed to really love and worship her.

Then he had a relapse. Stories have been pretty fuzzy on what exactly he was doing but I’m going to read between the lines and theorize he was doing drugs once again.

It was a very crazy time at TMZ and all the other so-called entertainment outlets. He was in rehab and then he was separating from his wife and then he was dating actress Olivia Munn and then he served his wife with divorce papers and then Olivia was pregnant.

According to a People article John entered rehab in December 2020. At that time Olivia sent him a message of support. May 10, 2021 he files for divorce from his wife, Anna Marie Tendler (I found another source that said the divorce wasn’t filed until July). Anna Marie made the following statement: I am heartbroken that John has decided to end our marriage. I wish him support and success as he continues his recovery. May 13, 2021 (that’s 3 days later for anyone not keeping count) sources confirmed he and Olivia were dating. September 2021 the new couple confirms she is pregnant.

They are both trying to spin the story that he did not cheat on his wife but the timeline just doesn’t add up. There was a lot of crossover and most people believe he cheated on his wife and got the other woman pregnant.

John claimed on an appearance with Seth Meyers that he went to rehab in September, got out in October, moved out of his home with Anna Marie, and then began dating Olivia in the spring. That’s only partially true. He did go to rehab in September 2020 and checked out in October in order to host Saturday Night Live. He returned in December 2021 and moved to outpatient care in February of 2021.

Personally, I can’t stand to listen to him anymore. Just can’t do it.

But I’m not writing about the comics I follow. This is actually about something Olivia Munn said shortly after she had her son.She was being interviewed for some reason and the writer of the article noted that “the couple were met with swift backlash over the news, leaving Munn to spend the majority of her pregnancy out of the spotlight.” Olivia was quoted as saying, “It’s hard to be pregnant for the first time and have anybody say anything besides, like, ‘Congratulations,’”

Are you fucking kidding me? She’s having a sad moment because more people aren’t like, “Congratulations on having a baby with a man who cheated on his wife with you! That’s awesome. So, do you have names picked out?”

She’s upset because people couldn’t look beyond the cheating to give her proper deference and adulation at the fact she got knocked up by someone who just got out of rehab?

That’s a lot to unpack. It’s already difficult to be happy when you know the pregnancy is a result of John’s infidelity. And Olivia had to have known he was married. I know he’s married and I’ve never met the man! But then you add on the fact that he just got out of rehab. I’m not really sure that’s the best choice you can make when choosing someone to father a child.

I’m not saying he’s a lost cause forever. I’m just saying I would prefer to see someone maintain their sobriety for a while before rushing into making a baby with them.

I’m going to have to file this one under “Audacity” because I cannot fathom how a person has an affair with a married man, he leaves his wife for her, and then she’s shocked that people aren’t falling all over themselves to congratulate her.

Even if everything they try to spin is actual fact it is still an incredibly public and painful breakup for his wife. He didn’t file for divorce until May 10th (or July) and sources confirmed he was dating Olivia on May 13th. Here’s the fun part. Their son was born in November so you do the math. Olivia was already pregnant when John filed for divorce. In fact, for a November baby she likely got pregnant sometime in February. John’s divorce wasn’t final until January 6, 2022. So, regardless Anna Marie’s husband had a baby with another woman while they were still married.

I know I frequently say marriage is just a piece of paper and that if the relationship is over then the marriage is over, regardless of the legalese. But I don’t believe any of this was on the up and up and lying to your wife about your intentions, or doing shit behind her back is not what I’m talking about.

I’m so sorry, Olivia, that people didn’t fall all over themselves to congratulate you on your pregnancy. They should never have given any consideration to his wife and how much hurt she must have been going through, having to publicly watch you announce your pregnancy with her husband. All the focus should have been on you and the happiness you and John were experiencing at her expense. It must have been so difficult for you to not be able to gloat and show off your pregnancy bump from Day 1 because that would make you seem like an uncaring, unsympathetic bitch. But now you have your moment to tell everyone how you are the real victim.

You know, you’re really not that far off base. I don’t think I’d call you a victim as much as a volunteer, but a leopard doesn’t change his spots. One day it’ll be your turn to watch as he wanders off with another woman only too willing to engage with a married man. Maybe when she announces her pregnancy before he’s actually filed for divorce you’ll do the right thing and congratulate her.

Just Like Old Times

I don’t write about Jerry Lee much anymore. Truth be told there isn’t a lot to say lately and I don’t want my blog to dwell on him and his atrocities. I mean, if he does something especially stupid or heinous I’ll talk about it. Like when he wanted a ticket to Rock Star’s college graduation, or tells her how he’d love to walk her down the aisle. Aside from that though he’s not a popular topic on this blog. I’m concentrating on other things, like my life.

But today I just have to get this off my chest. I hate his fucking guts. I hate that he got to just blithely skip away from his old life. I hate that he got to pick up with his cousin/whore and her $5000/month take home pay. I hate the fact that she is able to simply get rid of any of her children that are difficult or don’t want to play happy family. And I hate that I hate that because I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to run away from my kids. I don’t want to abandon them and start all over with someone new. But I also hate that I’ve been left holding down the fort.

I’ve done it for so long it’s natural, like breathing. I don’t even think about it. I was the one who had to break the news to our kids that we were getting a divorce. I was the one left to answer their questions- questions I didn’t even have answers for. I was the one that had to do my best to convince them that no matter what happened we would be okay.

He moved out one day without saying a word and I was none the wiser until my alimony and child support wasn’t deposited into my account. I was the one who had to call around and ask his boss if he was still there. I was the one left having to admit to both kids that he had moved to another state.

I was the one who had to break the news that we had to move when he lost his damn job. He was fine. He had a whore to comfort and support him and he didn’t have to say a damn thing to the kids he left behind.

I am the one that knows that Rock Star had only recently found out she was going to be the gymnastics team captain and she had to give that up. I’m the one that knows she was destined to be in the high school’s Hall of Fame and that he fucked that up for her by forcing us to move. I’m the one that was there when it dawned on her that gymnastics was over for her.

I’m the one who knew Picasso was going to join marching band and that he had been receiving some very positive feedback from the camp he attended.

I was the one who had to tell Rock Star she couldn’t get her license and in fact, had to start over from scratch with a learner’s permit.

I was the one taking her to the local high school to get her signed up for classes in case her transfer didn’t go through. I’m the one who saw how disappointed she was at what she was going into. I’m the one that saw my happy, radiant, upbeat girl turn into a glum, withdrawn child. I’m the one who heard her say, “I used to be someone. Now I’m nobody.” I’m the one who held her while she cried.

I will never forgive him for taking her away from her school. Twenty fucking plus years I listened to him whine about being moved around all the time and never going to the same school twice until high school. What does he do to his daughter, his pride and joy? He cheats on her mother after moving us 2000 miles across the country, cuts us off financially, and then loses his fucking job he took to be closer to the whore, thereby forcing us to move and forcing his daughter to switch high schools midway through.

I will never forgive him for taking gymnastics away from her either.

I’ll never forgive him for essentially robbing both of us of her senior year and being able to go on multiple college visits. I was too damn poor during her junior and first part of her senior year. That left us with about 3 months for her to look around before needing to make a decision. We ended up going on two visits- one in Utah and one at Ball State.

I hate him for taking me away from my kids. I feel like I lost out on the end of their childhood because I was working.

Most of all I hate him for all the destruction he left behind for me to clean up. I’m the one paying for the therapy bills for both kids. Because he fucked with their heads just abandoning them one day. See ya! Only he didn’t even have the balls to say that much. I’m the one that paid Rock Star’s tuition or rent. He gave her the rest of the money she needed to buy a laptop her freshman year- around $400, I think. That was the extent of his contribution. I’m the one paying the psychiatrist bills for Picasso. I’m the one paying for the fucking insurance.

Did I mention my company has absolute shit insurance? I pay just over $200 each paycheck for my insurance alone. My family deductible is $6000. I never reach my deductible which means I always pay out of pocket for everything. Except most of my kids’ meds. Those are generally covered, or a large portion is covered for some reason. So because I have a huge deductible I also have $200 out of each paycheck deposited into my HSA account for medical and dental bills.

Why on earth my lawyer did not urge me to consider having him cover them I will never know. What I do know is while you’re going through a divorce you’re not supposed to make any changes to your insurance. Yes, he got fired so none of us were insured. But once he finally got a job he should have been insuring us. He didn’t and it fell to me- the person making all of $11.50 an hour at the time. Of course, I didn’t put $200 in my HSA at that time either. That started almost 2 years ago when all of the therapy started.

I was so close to essentially getting almost a $400 raise per month once Rock Star and Picasso were off of my insurance. Picasso has insurance through the union and Rock Star will have insurance through her job. Now? Who the hell knows?

Picasso is not doing well and it once again falls to me to take care of everything because Daddy Dearest can’t be bothered. He passed along these fucked up genes, and he’s the one that caused a cataclysmic upheaval in their lives. Where is he?

Oh, he’s off living his best fucking life in Georgia with the whore and the one child she has left.

Again, 99.9% of the time I just take care of it because what’s the other option? I can bitch about it but that won’t change anything. Jerry Lee doesn’t care. If it’s going to get done then I’ll need to do it. They need one sane parent and I’m it.

Picasso’s career in carpentry is not off to a stellar start. His first job was fantastic. Unfortunately he’s beginning to think that was an outlier. Also unfortunate was the fact that it only lasted maybe a month.

His second job was a nightmare. His boss was a complete ass. I’m not simply an overbearing mama who thinks her child is an angel. My brother, after hearing the stories Picasso finally told, started making phone calls to people he knew trying to find this guy. He was ready to kick his ass. This guy would call Picasso retarded. Literally would say that. He told him he should just quit, that he wasn’t cut out for this. He would tell other people, “You’ll need to tell this guy twice. He’s slow.” He was absolutely awful. Other people- journeymen even- have complained about this person to the union.

As you might imagine this took quite the toll on his already fragile mental health. At one point he was sitting on the couch and I noted that he looked absolutely miserable. He told me then he didn’t know what to do and he had nothing to live for. Basically he tries to tell himself that things are looking up but then they come crashing down again, and this asshole he was working for reinforced everything Picasso’s brain tells him- he’s worthless, he’s stupid, etc. He didn’t want to go on living. He thought that was the only way to stop the pain.

I was the one talking to my child. I was the one holding him and crying. I was the one begging him to hang on and assuring him that things would get better all while telling him that I would never, ever, ever get over him killing himself. I’ve always been the one. It all falls on me and sometimes it is exhausting.

It seems nothing helps. He never improves.

He was doing better once he was no longer at job #2. Two weeks later he takes his third job. That one was fine but it was very short-lived- 2 or 3 weeks. He found out at the beginning of this job he had enough hours to be an apprentice, moving up from a pre-apprentice.

Then he was out of work for about 6 weeks. Now he’s working at a steel mill. He had 2 okay days but they are now working 12 hour days, 7 days a week. And when I say 12 hours I really mean 12.5 hours because they have a half an hour for lunch. Did I mention he drives an hour to and from work? So he leaves at 6:15 in the morning and doesn’t get home until after 9:30 at night. On top of that everyone expects him to know what to do and they are already talking shit about him because he doesn’t. I don’t think they realize he’s been an apprentice for approximately 80 hours and those 80 hours were spent doing concrete.

I don’t think this job is going to work out. I’m not sure joining the union is going to work out for him. He got into it because he wanted to build stuff and he hasn’t had a single job like that. There’s been flooring, drywall, concrete, and now scaffolding.

His mental health is taking another nosedive and guess who is here for the fallout? That’s right! It’s me! Where is Daddy? Well, we’ve already determined he’s in Georgia living his best life with his new family.

Picasso’s insurance through the union kicked in in August. I still have him on mine because I’m afraid to take him off. I don’t know how much longer he will be employed. I don’t know if he’s going to stick with the union. If I take him off now I can put him back on, I believe, when our open enrollment comes around next month. Then he’ll only be without insurance for two months. Frankly, I would say, “Fuck the insurance,” but he meets with a therapist every other week and a psychiatrist once a month, plus he takes medications. The therapist and psychiatrist visit I could handle. The meds are much more expensive per month out of pocket than what I would pay for insurance.

He was also supposed to start paying for his phone and his car insurance starting in January. Now I’m not sure that any of that will happen.

The psychiatrist did order a cheek swab a few weeks ago. It’s supposed to help her better determine which medications will work better for him, based on his metabolism, or something like that. It has to do with how your body metabolizes medications. I do know that much.

Truthfully it’s hard to tell what all came first. Was Picasso always a time bomb waiting to explode? Or did Jerry Lee moving us across the country when Picasso was 12 start everything off? Would Picasso have had issues regardless, or did they stem from his father abandoning him when he was 13? Say what you will but I tend to think when he tells me his brain tells him he’s worthless and no one likes him that having your father walk out on you without saying a word kind of reinforces that message. Or maybe that act sent the original message and he’s never been able to disregard it. Maybe he would have had issues anyway, but if he had a father around, one who supposedly had gone through all of this himself, he would have had an easier path.

I’m tired. I’m tired of the therapy bills and the psychiatrist bills that keep adding up but never seem to do anything for him. I’m tired of wondering if my kid is ever going to be happy, or at least content. I’m tired of wondering if he will ever be self sufficient. I’m tired of being left to deal with all of this on my own. I’d like both of my kids to be off of my payroll in January or February of 2023, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen. And I feel guilty for even expressing that. What kind of mother doesn’t want to take care of her kids forever? If anything ever happened to my son I know I would be saying I would pay a therapist every week if it brought him back to me. I would be begging for all of my old bills to haunt me once again if it meant he was here with me.

So I’m back to hating Jerry Lee. He left and left me to deal with cleaning up his entire mess. Oh, he did tell me he loved Picasso very much and offered to speak to his therapist and gave me the name of his latest medication which has seemingly helped him (Jerry Lee). Wow- so big of him. That was what- 30 seconds of giving a fuck about his son? I’ve spent hours listening to this kid talk about how he hates his life and how his mind is fucked up and he doesn’t believe he’ll ever be happy anymore. I’ve done the work to find a therapist, find a psychiatrist. I’ve spent thousands on insurance, and additional thousands on the therapist, psychiatrist, and meds. I’ve counseled him on questions to ask his psychiatrist. I’ve offered to sit in on a visit with him and his therapist, or even psychiatrist. I’ve even considered in-patient therapy.

Don’t even get me started on school. I hate his cousin fucking guts for leaving me to do battle with Picasso throughout his entire school career but especially his four years of high school. Every damn day was a battle it felt like. I wasn’t sure he was going to graduate and I was pretty sure I could not deal with another year of high school on his behalf. The kid didn’t take his fucking English final and had to have it unlocked by the teacher. “Whatever will be will be, Mom.” That was what I was dealing with while Jerry Lee was off in Georgia with his cousin.

I hate him for taking my daughter away from me, too. I have no doubt that if we were still living in Virginia she wouldn’t be living with her boyfriend. She’d be living at home. She’d look forward to coming home so she could see her high school friends. She had no friends up here for the most part. There was nothing for her. She was home for the summer after her freshman year and it was wonderful having her back. My mom and I both enjoyed our conversations we would have with her after she got off work. She was home for the summer after her sophomore year although this summer wasn’t nearly as wonderful. She spent long weekends down in Muncie with her boyfriend and/or her best friend from college, and if she wasn’t down there then one of them was up here. After that summer she moved into her apartment by herself. She didn’t need my help, although my mom and I came down a week or so later to bring the rest of her things. I had no idea that was the last time she would ever live with me.

He robbed me of my child. He chose to leave her. He chose to exit her life. I didn’t. I thought I would have at least 1 more summer, and when we realized she wouldn’t graduate in the spring because she applied later for nursing school I thought I might have 2 more summers with her. At one point she said she was going to work up here for at least 2 years so I was going to get 2 summers and 2 additional years!

Now she has a five year plan that sees her and her boyfriend buying the house they’re living in and staying in Muncie for 5 years.

Of course, that doesn’t affect Jerry Lee. Did I mention he lives in Georgia? I have? Oh, did I mention he hasn’t seen her since her high school graduation in 2018? Four years. He could drive down to see his cousin every weekend but he has been unable to drive up to see either of his children in years- 4 years for Rock Star and 6 years for Picasso.

I could go on and on about the myriad of reasons I hate Jerry Lee. I hate him for taking away my financial security. I hate that because of him I constantly worry about retirement and what that’s going to look like for me. I hate him for letting me put in a pool only for me to find out 6 days after it was filled that he was a cousin fucking cheater. I hate him for letting our house go into foreclosure, leaving me and our kids with nothing. I hate him for putting me in a situation where I had to leave everything behind. I hate him for not paying me for so long that my poor Beauregard suffered because I couldn’t take him to the vet sooner to find out he had cancer. I hate him for everything. But mostly I hate him for what he did to our kids and then leaving me to do all of the heavy work to try to clean up his mess.

I’ve got bad news for him, although he couldn’t care less. It will never be clean. These stains will last a life time.

Should You Share Your Inheritance With the Mistress?

I came across this gem recently: Husband cheats on wife. Leaves her for the mistress. Then he dies at age 48 and leaves his ex-wife everything. Mistress is pissed. I shall elaborate.

The “man” cheated on his wife when she was four months pregnant after more than ten years of marriage. It was only when he asked for a divorce and then had his lawyer order her out of their apartment that she found out about the mistress. Over the years the ex-husband attempted to reach out to her several times, including after she had a miscarriage with their child. When he found out he was terminally ill he reached out again but she wisely refused to see him even though this was his “last wish.” Boo hoo.

Despite her refusal to see him, and despite the fact that the woman had remarried and had two children with her current husband, the ex-husband left her everything. He even wrote her a letter that he included with his will where he stated he had never stopped loving or thinking about her, and in his mind, she was still his wife.

Oh really? Still loved her and thought about her even while you were banging your mistress? Did your affair accomplice know you were still pining for your former wife? Did she know she was still fucking a married man in your eyes because you were still married to your ex? Did that keep everything fresh and exciting with her because you could convince yourself you were still cheating on your wife and your side whore was still just an option, not your only option?

Side question: How did your mistress feel about the fact that you weren’t willing to marry her?

I wish I could feel bad for him but I don’t. Plus, he’s dead so he doesn’t even know I don’t feel bad for him.

Sad sausage goes on to write to his ex-wife that he never got over the loss of their child (the one you abandoned when she was four months pregnant?) and felt responsible for causing the miscarriage. Leaving her his money was his way of making amends.

The relationship with the mistress lasted 8 years and at 33, Little Miss Homewrecker has been left with nothing. Doing the math it seems a really stupid 25 year old got involved with a 40 year told and thought she was going to live a life of luxury. And then he died and left everything to his ex-wife. Including the apartment the mistress currently lives in.

Excuse me while I laugh hysterically.

Naturally the mistress is not happy about this. I mean, if she was willing to steal the wife’s husband do you really think she wants to let the wife keep all of his money? Oh no! She’s threatening to contest the will if the ex-wife doesn’t give her a portion of it.

Oh, the inheritance? Comes out to $1.3 million.

In addition to all this fun, the woman’s ex in-laws are also pressuring her to “be fair and share the money”. According to them the mistress will end up homeless and on the streets if the ex-wife won’t share. Because, you know, the ex-wife also got the apartment.

Hey, dumbasses, she already shared her husband with the dumb bitch. She didn’t get a choice in that decision. She can, however, choose not to share her inheritance.

Also, I’m sure the mistress will land on her back. She’ll find some other poor married sucker and leach off of him.

At the end of the article it asks, “Is the author entirely justified to keep the full inheritance that her ex-husband purposely left her, even if it means his girlfriend of 8 years gets nothing? Or should the author be kinder to the girlfriend, who just lost her partner, and share a portion of the wealth with her?

Oh. For. The. Love. Be kinder to the woman who fucked your husband behind your back? Be kinder to the whore who came in and wrecked your marriage and your life? Do you think the mistress was urging her lover to share a portion of his income with the wife he left behind for her? How kind do you think the mistress was to the wife when she lost her baby? Do you think the mistress even thought for one minute that maybe her actions had contributed to that?

The ex-wife went on to say that once her husband left her for the mistress the mistress quit college, never worked a day in her life, and basically lived off of her lover. Too bad he died young.

Maybe she should have a heart to heart with the grieving girlfriend. After all, she could sympathize. I imagine it might go something like this: Oh, Whore, I feel for you. What you’re going through now must feel an awful lot like what I went through when I was four months pregnant and found out my husband was fucking you. You must be as devastated now, finding out he blindsided you and left you with nothing, as I was back then when he blindsided me and torpedoed our life together for a life of cheap sex with you. I guess you could say he left me with nothing as well back then and gave you everything. Don’t forget that I, too, know what it’s like to be betrayed by him. The only difference, of course, is that you helped him betray me. I didn’t do anything to you. You go right ahead and contest that will. You don’t have a leg to stand on and I’m not giving you a single red cent.

Thankfully the mistress is still young. She could play this one of two ways. Way #1 she actually gets off her ass and gets a job and works for what she wants. My guess is that will not appeal to the gold digger. So again, thankfully she is still young because way #2 involves finding some other sucker to support her. Maybe the next one won’t come down with a terminal illness.

If I were the woman I’d tell both the gold digging girlfriend and the asinine ex in-laws to fuck all the way off. And when they had fucked all the way off they could keep going and fuck off some more. They could keep fucking off until they fucking died.

Keep that money, honey! He left it to you to assuage his guilt. He was probably hoping to buy his way into Heaven. If he had wanted the whore to have it he would have left it to her. Use that money to make your life better and easier.

One last tip- don’t co-mingle the inheritance with marital funds. Keep it as yours, and yours alone.

New Wife Signs the Alimony Checks

The other day I was doing some research when I came upon a series of checks that were clearly labeled as alimony. What I found interesting was that the new wife was the one who wrote and signed every single one of these checks. $25,000 a pop.

Huh. One part of me says, “What a cunt.” Does it make her feel good writing those checks out to the ex? Letting her know there’s a new bitch in town? Ha- I took your life. You get the table scraps.

The other part genuinely wonders how she likes writing out that $25,000 check each month. The ex gets $300,000 a year. How long? I don’t know. But she’s getting it right now. Good for her!

Of course, if she’s getting $300,000 a year from him I’m sure he’s making much, much more than that. Hopefully, in addition to the monthly payments she receives, she also received at least half of everything they owned together.

Does the new wife resent writing that check? Or does she feel like it’s a small price to pay to garner herself a high earning husband? Does she ever wonder if he’s thinking she wasn’t worth the $300,000 per year he now has to pay his ex? Probably not. They all think they’re super special.

I will admit, that despite knowing the money spends the same whether it’s the whore or the whoremonger writing the check, I’m thankful that throughout my entire ordeal over the last 6 1/2 years I’ve only had to deal with Harley writing the check once.

I cashed it. Didn’t make a big deal about it. Hell, didn’t make any kind of a deal about it. Told myself it all spends the same. But still…. there’s just something about the person who has stolen your life writing a support check to you.

I have no proof of this but I would not be surprised to find out that Harley was not happy about the amount of money Jerry Lee was supposed to pay me.

In the beginning of their affair he was handing over more than $5000 a month to her. She had quite the time. They both did. And then court happened and suddenly he was handing over about 65% or so of his check to me. Harley got a pay cut. A big pay cut. So it wouldn’t surprise me at all to find out she didn’t enjoy writing that check. At the very least, let’s say it was a hell of a lot easier for me to cash it and spend the money than it was for her to write it and watch all of that money go out of her bank account.

I think back to the various times Jerry Lee decided to modify the agreement on his own. He never stuck to the original agreement which was to pay twice a month, every other week. When things came up, like his mother’s funeral, he just didn’t pay what he owed until the following month. Then he cut child support in half. That gave them almost an additional thousand dollars a month to spend on themselves. Then he lost his job (again) and cut spousal support off. Once he finally began paying again he shorted me by more than a thousand dollars each month.

All that time he and Harley were living it up. They never downsized their house. They never downsized their spending. Her kids certainly didn’t do without. No, it was always taken from me and my kids.

So when I was finally able to take him back to court I’m sure it was quite the wake up call. He went from being able to pay whenever it was convenient for him to having to directly deposit my money into my account twice a month- the 15th and the last day of the month. He went from modifying my spousal support to whatever amount allowed him and Harley to live as they felt entitled to live, back to paying the full amount he was court ordered to pay. He went from cutting child support in half to finally being modified to the correct amount- and having to pay over $20,000 in arrears from all that time he had refused to modify the order. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when his lawyer told him to sign or be prepared to go to jail. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when Jerry Lee had to break the news to Harley that they were going to be out a hell of a lot more money than they had planned- and if he tried to get around paying he would go to jail, thanks to the clause I had put in there.

Maybe she had no reaction. Maybe she was fine and dandy with losing over half of his paycheck once again. Maybe it made absolutely no difference in their lifestyle. I’d like to think her head exploded though. Just like I hope it chafes the second wife’s ass to write out those $25,000 checks to the first wife each month.

Stop Expecting Them To Parent!

I think one of the saddest things I see on infidelity boards are the parents that ask in anguish, “Why won’t the fuckwit have anything to do with our children? How can they just abandon their own flesh and blood?”

I frequently see posts from people who are frustrated that the fuckwit won’t help out with the kids, won’t take them for visitation, doesn’t show up when they’re supposed to, and of course, hasn’t seen the kids in months or years.

I recall reading a post on a blog from someone who was irritated that her ex wouldn’t help out with his kid. At the time I told her she needed to pretend that he didn’t exist and that she only had herself and her support system to rely upon. I think she was a little befuddled because her response was along the lines of, “But this is his child! Shouldn’t he be doing this for our child? He’s the other parent; I should be able to rely on him and expect him to do his part! This is for our child, not me!”

My response to that was, “Yes, obviously he should but he’s not going to so stop beating your head against a brick wall and control what you can control.” What she could control, of course, was herself. Not him.

I spent six months living in the same house as Jerry Lee after D-Day. Not one time did he help out with the kids. I believe he asked Picasso once if he needed a ride but that was it. Then he moved 6-7 hours away and he’s never lived in the same state as his kids since then. I had no choice but to take on everything myself.

Maybe that was a blessing in disguise. I never had false hope that the other parent would step up and do his part. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t.

Maybe I spent too much time on other boards, boards populated by single moms who shared children with absent fathers. Their attitude was primarily, “Put on your combat boots and get shit done yourself.”

I think that’s why I advocate for people forming outside support systems. It’s why I recommend not relying on the other parent. And if you’re going to rely on the other parent then make sure you have a backup plan. It’s why I recommend having everything your child needs at your house and the other parent having everything the child needs at their house.

Stop begging an uninterested person to remain in your child’s life. That’s giving the fuckwit more power than they deserve. It makes them central. If they’re going to ditch your kid they’re going to ditch your kid and there’s nothing you can do to prevent it. The only thing you’ll be able to do is potentially prolong it. I have heard so many stories where once the sane parent finally drops the rope and puts the relationship responsibility on the now adult child and the other parent it fizzles out, or the now adult child puts an immediate end to it.

Stop being shocked when they flake on you. Expect it. Have that backup plan ready.

I guess maybe in many ways I was lucky that I was the one that handled everything that went along with Rock Star and Picasso. I could figure out how to get both kids to hockey and gymnastics on the same nights when Jerry Lee was at an out of town meeting. He seemed incapable, but I could do it. I was used to taking 2 young kids on a cross country vacation with no help from him even when we were married. I could figure out how to get Rock Star to gymnastics practice early and then return in time to pick Picasso up from school at the regular time. I could figure out how to get Picasso to his hockey tournament (three games played throughout the day) on the same day as Rock Star’s state gymnastics meet. I could figure out how to get a kid to orchestra and arrange a breakfast for the teacher’s at the same time. I could figure out how to arrange for childcare while I volunteered at church. And I even figured out how to arrange for childcare while I went out of town for a weekend with church friends so we could go to a women’s conference.

It involved about 16 hours of driving and leaving children in two separate states but I arranged it! I drove Rock Star from Michigan to Kentucky to stay with her grandmother down there and then I drove Picasso back up from Kentucky to Indiana to stay with my mom. From there I drove back on up to Michigan and my friends and I left for the conference the next day. And I got to turn around and do it all over again a few days later in order to pick them back up.

Is it better when you’ve got a 2 person tag team taking on childcare responsibilities? I’m sure it is. But you can do it without them. My advice, just like the advice I gave to that woman on her blog, is to stop banging your head against a brick wall. Be prepared to take on all the responsibility. Don’t rely upon the other parent. If they come through it’s an unexpected bonus. If they don’t, you’ve got this.

If the other parent is still involved and reliable I think that’s great. I’m not suggesting you attempt to oust them from their kids’ lives. But if you’ve got an ex who doesn’t take much an interest in your children then please stop giving them the power to hurt you and your kids. Your kids need one sane parent. Stop offering up your child like a lamb to slaughter. You don’t mention visitation. If the other parent shows up you send them with them. If they don’t show up they have no idea the other parent was even supposed to be there. You don’t call them and beg them to show up for birthdays or holidays. You take advantage of the fact that you don’t have to share those moments. You don’t ask if they’ll be using their visitation. You don’t remind them of the days they have. They are adults and I trust are able to read their visitation schedule. If you’ve got plans you get yourself a backup in case the other parent doesn’t show. If you didn’t have plans now is your chance to do whatever you want with your kids, whether that’s spending the evening at home, or going out and doing something fun.

Can it be heartbreaking for your child when the other parent abandons them? Of course it can be! More so I think if your child is old enough to remember the other parent being around. In other cases, if the parent disappears early enough they may not even really remember them. Just remember, this is not something you can control. You are not responsible for their shitty choices. You concentrate on being the best parent you can be.

What you can control is taking charge of your life. You can refuse to be at the mercy of a fuckwit. You can refuse to be held hostage to their whims. Put that support system in place. Make your backup plan. Have a backup for your backup plan if necessary. That way when they call you twenty minutes before pickup and let you know they can’t make it you’re not flipping out because you had planned on going out for a long overdue night out with friends. You’ve got this. You’ve already made arrangements. You’re never disappointed that your ex can’t pick up your daughter while you take your son to soccer. You’ve already got this handled.

It’s the Best Decision I Ever Made!!!

Oh boy! Another former co-worker had a baby and opted to be a stay-at-home mom. This makes three in the last 2+ years. She announced it on Facebook and so many people chimed in to tell her how happy they were for her.

“You’re going to love it!”

“So happy for you!”

“Being a stay at home mom is the best!”

“So glad you’re going to stay home!”

“You’ll never regret it!”

“It’s the best decision I’ve ever made!”

I didn’t comment. I didn’t feel it would be appropriate.

The reality is no one wants to be told they’re doing something that could prove to be financially devastating to them. They don’t want to hear about everything that could wrong. We’re not taught to plan for the worse; we’re always told to look on the bright side and think positive! The person who attempts to interject reality into this fabulous fantasy is labeled bitter, jealous, and jaded. Plus, I realize it might all work out exactly as they’ve planned. I hear that sometimes happens for other people. I guess in that case you’ve made a mountain out of a mole hill. Jellybean’d on their dreams for no reason. Not to mention looking like a bitter, jealous, crazy woman who wants everyone to be miserable. So I don’t comment. With that said (or left unsaid)…

It’s the best decision you’ve ever made? Really? Because I look back on my time as a stay at home mom and while, yes, I did enjoy my time with my kids, I think it was the absolute worst decision I could have made. When the discard came 15 years later I lost everything. Primarily because I didn’t have a job or any way to support my kids.

Had I not gotten a divorce I might be singing a different tune. I might be one of those people telling her how amazing it is. Then again, if I didn’t get a divorce I wouldn’t be living in Indiana. If I didn’t live in Indiana (and I didn’t get a divorce) I wouldn’t have taken a job at the bank. If I didn’t take the job at the bank I wouldn’t have met her, and therefore would not be Facebook friends with her. It’s a real If-You-Give-A-Mouse-A-Cookie situation.

You’ll never regret it? Hmmm…. I suppose that depends upon how your marriage works out. Again, if you remain married I would imagine you wouldn’t regret your decision much at all. He tosses you aside for a new model after 15, 20, 25 years and you’ve got to go out and hustle to get a job after all that time at home, you might be regretting it.

I find it a little sad that I view life that way now. This woman is so overjoyed with her new baby and being able to stay at home with her and all I can think about is how this has the potential to go horribly wrong years down the road.

Honestly, I’m happy that they can go all in. I’m happy that they feel like they can trust their husbands. I’m happy they seem to truly work as a team. Good for them. That’s over for me but hooray to whoever can still have that. I mean that sincerely.

I think that when marriage works as it’s intended to it can be a very, very good thing. Two people working towards a common goal. Two people supporting each other and each other’s dreams. Two people raising their family and having the best interests of their children at the forefront.

The problem comes, of course, when it no longer works as intended. When the woman who worked a full-time job so that she could put her husband through law school gets discarded once her husband graduates from law school and begins to finally make good money. When the woman who has moved around the world in support of her husband’s career, and at the expense of her own, is tossed aside for a younger model, When the woman who chose to stay at home with her kids and take care of everything related to the home so that her husband could concentrate on his career and his climb up the corporate ladder is replaced by a woman who makes good money herself. That’s when we say to ourselves, “I never should have done that. That was NOT the best decision I’ve ever made and I DO really regret it!”

Unfortunately, it’s one of those things where you don’t know what you don’t know. Until your world comes crumbling down and you find out that those decisions that felt so right back when you made them 10, 15, 20 years ago, turned out to be so, so wrong.

The truth is most people don’t live their lives thinking of worst case scenarios. They don’t make their decisions based upon, “What if I get divorced?” or, “Could I do this completely on my own if I had to?” I certainly didn’t back when I was married. I naively thought that I would never get divorced, and if I did… Well, I saw my mom do very well for herself after her divorce and had heard of other women who began careers after their kids were grown and out of the house. I didn’t think I would have any difficulty.

I’ve said before I enjoyed being home with my two kids. I enjoyed taking them to school and running them around to all of their practices and games. I loved being able to take them places and do things with them in the summer and when they were on break. I’m thankful for all the memories we were able to make. I did love it. And had I remained married I would still think it was a wise and wonderful choice. But I didn’t remain married. Instead I was forced out of everything I ever knew and had to find a job after being out of the job market for 15 years. No one wanted to hire me. I suffered. My kids suffered. We lost almost everything. We had to move 600 miles away. I worked 2 jobs for almost a year. I didn’t have much time for my kids. I went from being a 100% dedicated stay at home mom who did everything for my kids, to being someone who was constantly exhausted, worked ridiculous hours trying to pay my bills and support my kids, and never had time for my kids. I think that abrupt shift from Mother Extraordinaire to Pretty Shitty Mom hurt my kids more than anything. In the end staying at home was the worst decision I could have ever made and I definitely regretted my decision.

I sincerely hope that all of these former co-workers who are so happy to quit their jobs and stay home with their babies don’t find themselves wearing my shoes 15-20 years from now.

A Belated Mother’s Day Message (Or An Early Father’s Day Message)

Mother’s Day has come and gone. Mine was splendid but I’ll write about that later. It’s a little late to save the moms this year but if I have any male readers dealing with cheating wives maybe I can save you some heartache this coming Father’s Day.

I saw so many people this year hurt and bewildered by their ex or soon-to-be-ex not wishing them a happy Mother’s Day.

I’m the mother of his child(ren) and he didn’t even wish me a happy Mother’s Day! You’d think the least he could do is acknowledge that. We were together for X number of years. I’m the one raising his kids, the ones he left behind. Is it that difficult for him to do this one small thing and recognize me on Mother’s Day?

Yes! Yes, it is asking for too much to expect him to acknowledge you on Mother’s Day. He couldn’t keep his dick in his pants while you were married/living together/in a relationship. Showing you any sign of respect is not his strong suit. What makes you think he’s going to treat you better now than when you were actually together? Before you at least served a purpose. You cooked his meals, kept his house, did his laundry, made sure the bills were paid, kept his life in order, had sex with him. You made him look like a stable, normal human being. Now you’re just a nuisance to him.

I know that sounds harsh and I’m sorry. There’s simply no way to sugar coat it. As Chump Lady says over and over, “You cannot look to the person who hurt you to help you heal.” That’s like asking your kidnapper to help you escape.

Maybe I am blessed with the ability to shut things off when I see them going south. I was all in with Jerry Lee and our wreckconciliation until I got the news from The Saint about Jerry Lee lying about where he had been. When I found out Jerry Lee was messing around with Harley again I was done. I wasn’t looking forward to what needed to happen but I knew it was over. I had warned him two years prior.

I remember my first anniversary post separation. Rock Star bought me candy and flowers. I took my kids to Olive Garden (ironically, an hour’s drive away from where we were living). I focused on making the day about them. Never in a million years was I expecting Jerry Lee to even mention the day in passing, much less send me a message acknowledging our anniversary or send me flowers.

I didn’t expect him to recognize my birthday and I wasn’t sitting on pins and needles wondering if he would do anything for me for Mother’s Day. Most of the time he half assed it while we were married. Why on earth would I expect him to pull out all the stops now that he was fucking his cousin?

Is it because we’ve been fed this constant stream of conscious uncoupling bullshit? Are we really buying into this narrative that “divorce doesn’t mean you’re no longer a family; it just means your family has been rearranged slightly,”?

I’ll say it again. You cannot expect the person who broke you to help put you back together. They are not capable of it. They have no vested interest in doing so. There’s nothing in it for them.

Protect your heart. Don’t expect anything out of them. Don’t expect humanity. This is your ex for a reason. When you no longer expect, or better yet, don’t even want acknowledgement from them on your birthday or Mother’s Day or Christmas you take away their power to hurt you.

Gentlemen, if you were wishing your cheating ex’s a Happy Mother’s Day- STOP! They don’t appreciate it and they don’t deserve it. It ends up making you feel bad because your acknowledgement falls on deaf ears and frequently is met with dead silence. It’s no longer your job to celebrate your children’s mother. Someone else can do that, and if she’s got no one else, well, she’s got no one else to blame but herself for her circumstances.

Ladies, I failed you on Mother’s Day but keep in mind, the above message goes for you as well on Father’s Day. You aren’t taking the high road by celebrating him when he ignores you. You are eating a giant shit sandwich and telling yourself it tastes wonderful. Please stop.

If your kids are old enough to buy a gift for him on their own, let them. If your kids aren’t old enough to do that, and they actually want to do something for him I’ve heard many people suggest letting them make him a card or draw him a picture. If you’re feeling rather generous maybe take them to the dollar store or some big box store and give them a budget of $5 or less. If your kids don’t ask to do anything, or maybe they’re not even old enough to do anything, don’t do anything for him. It’s not your job.

Take back your power. Take back your sanity. Don’t let them hurt you this way anymore.

Never Again

I read this somewhere and I wanted to discuss this:

The inability to receive support from others is a trauma response.

Your, “I don’t need anyone, I’ll just do it all myself,” conditioning is a survival tactic. And you needed it to shield your heart from abuse, neglect, betrayal, and disappointment from those who could not or would not be there for you….

…From all the situation when someone told you, “We’re in this together,” or “I got you,” then abandoned you, leaving you to pick up the pieces when shit got real, leaving you to handle your part and their part, too.

From all the lies and all the betrayals.

You learned along the way that you just couldn’t really trust people Or that you could trust people, but only up to a certain point.

Extreme independence is a trust issue.

You learned: if I don’t put myself in a situation where I rely on someone, I won’t have to be disappointed when they don’t show up for me, or when they drop the ball… because they will always drop the ball eventually, right?

Extreme independence is a preemptive strike against heartbreak.

So you don’t trust anyone.

And you don’t trust yourself, either, to choose people.

To trust is to hope, to trust is to be vulnerable.

“Never again,” you vow.

But no matter how you dress it up and display it proudly to make it seem like this level of independence is what you always wanted to be, in truth it’s your wounded, scarred broken heart behind a protective brick wall.

Impenetrable. Nothing gets in. No hurt gets in. But no love gets in either.

Fortresses and armor are for those in battle, or who believe the battle is coming.

It’s a trauma response.

by Jamila White

There was more but this encompasses most of what I wanted to write about.

I read this, and my first thought was, “Wow! This is so profound. So true. You’ve got to open your heart. Learn to trust. Not let the bad experiences shape you.”

And then I thought, “This is nuts. Of course the bad experiences are going to shape you! You should learn from them, not put your head in the sand and pretend that the next time it will all be okay.”

I suppose I should start with this: I don’t think I engage in extreme independence. I also don’t think I deny others the chance to support me.

Am I perfectly fine being on my own? I sure was. I didn’t think I would ever date again and I was pretty okay with that. I didn’t go looking for the mobster. He found me.

With that said I absolutely love having someone like him in my life.

Now, having said that I’m still not ready to throw caution to the wind, move in together, chuck spousal support out the window and cling to the notion that, “This time it will all work out!”

Yeah, last time it damn near killed me. I’m not exaggerating when I say that. I sometimes forget how awful it was because five years have passed and my life isn’t horrible anymore. And you know, you would think that would be a big help.

Hey! You survived it before! You thought you wanted to die and that your life was going to suck forever and ever. But look at you now! It doesn’t suck. If he walked out the door you’d pick yourself up and carry on. You’re in a better position now even because you already have a job! So you wouldn’t be back to square one. You’d be on, like, square two at the very least. Maybe even square three. You couldn’t lose everything all over again because you already lost everything and you never really rebuilt, right? It’s not like you bought a house. You don’t have any furniture. There’s nothing to lose! You’re good!

Ah, Happy-Go-Lucky Sam! I’ve missed you. Unfortunately for her, Baptized Through Fire Sam also shows up. And she’s like, “Are you crazy?”

My answer to that is, “No!”

I’ve thought about this a lot and it comes down to this. Let’s imagine there is a lake I swim in quite often. For years I go to this lake and I jump in and I swim around and have a grand ol’ time. And then one day, I go to the lake and I jump in and I swim around just like I always have. Only this time… an alligator bites my leg off. Now, I don’t know how the alligator got in the lake. It’s not like I live in Florida. Maybe it was a pet and it got too big so someone let it go. Maybe it migrated. I don’t know. I just know it now lives in the lake I used to swim in. And it bit my leg off. I was lucky to survive. It was a miracle. Kinda like me surviving my damn divorce and losing everything. Hmmmm…. Anyway… if someone asked me, “Hey, Sam, why don’t you swim in that lake anymore?” I would have no problem with saying, “Because a damn alligator bit my freaking leg off!” And if they tried to tell me that the chances of the alligator biting my other leg off was slim to none I’d tell them I wasn’t going to take any chances. I know there’s a damn alligator in that lake!

I don’t think anyone would fault me for that.

I think I tend to trust but verify. Trust but not put all my eggs in another person’s basket. Trust but not blindly. Trust but don’t be stupid. Any of those could be my new motto.

The mobster spent a few weeks with the guy who sold him his route. They talked a lot. The guy had 2 children from a previous relationship. He was currently with his girlfriend of 7 years. They had a child together and she really wanted to get married. His father ran routes all over for years until he began the Missions routes, which were basically given to him. Between him and his two sons they owned multiple routes. The guy who is selling the mobster the route makes quite a bit of money between the three or so routes he runs and his investment properties. One day the mobster came home and he was relaying the stories he had heard from him. I don’t remember how it came up but I remember him saying that at one point B was explaining that while his girlfriend worked a full-time job as well “all of this is me”, meaning that while she worked, too, the reason they had the giant house and the waterfall features in their yard and the Tesla and the million other things they had, was because of him.

My first inclination was to think, “Well, that’s not very team-like of him.” But my second reaction, which quickly followed my first, was, “He’s absolutely correct. It is all him.” Or rather, it’s all his.

I’m sure she helps him out logistically. She may even provide insurance for him and his two other children. But the reality is she makes a fraction of what he makes. Her lifestyle is funded by him. If she walked out on him tomorrow his life wouldn’t change. He might have to scramble to find someone to help out with his kids, but he’s not going to be wondering if he can afford the mortgage. He won’t be worried about whether or not he has to take his kids out their school because he might need to move. If he walks out on her? Oh you can bet your ass her life is going to change. She may have a full-time job. She may not be destitute. But she’s not going to be living in a house like she does now. She won’t be driving around in a Tesla. A lot of the things she can afford to do and purchase she wouldn’t be able to afford or purchase if he left.

That is still my mindset. I went through my house and I put price tags on all of my belongings. What I couldn’t sell was left behind. I lost my home. I lost my pool. I lost my brand new furniture. I had to move out of the state and back in with my mom. I live in fucking Indiana once again, for crying out loud. 

I will never financially depend upon another man again. That is still my stance. If I can’t afford it it’s not mine. If I can’t afford it on my own I don’t want it. I see all of these happy people who live these amazing lives and they’re doing it because they’re married. Their husbands fund their lives. It’s the ol’ “teamwork” concept. We’re a team! What’s mine is his and what’s his is mine. We don’t have his money and my money; it’s our money. I sometimes think how nice it would be to be able to do that again. To think that because I have a husband who can buy us a second home on a lake that I somehow have a home on a lake. To think that because my husband can afford a boat that I, too, have a boat. To think that because I’m married to a man who can afford a half a million dollar home that I have a half a million dollar home.

Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that that is not true. If my fictitious future husband decides to walk out on me for some gold digging whore then I no longer have a lake house. I no longer have a boat. I no longer have a $500,000 home. And I do realize that I got a very raw deal because Jerry Lee let our house go into foreclosure as opposed to getting up off his ass and getting a new job, hoping to wait me out. But I probably wouldn’t have been able to keep that house anyway. 

The way I look at it is this: As long as I follow my own common sense advice and only live on what I can afford on my own then I don’t have to worry about losing my home and everything in it should the man I’m with suddenly decides he wants to fuck a gold digging whore. If I acknowledge the fact that I only have access to his huge house, or his pool, or his boat or his lake house, because he wants to fuck me then I’m not shocked when I no longer have access to any of that if he dumps me. I don’t have to pack up my house. I don’t have to put stickers on everything. I don’t have to move back in with my mom. Would I be sad? Of course! But I’m not having every single goddamn thing I own taken away from me either. 

It’s kind of like if I had a job where I got free concert tickets as a perk of the job, or they allowed me use of their corporate condo in Hawaii. I would expect to only get to use those perks as long as I worked there. I wouldn’t be thinking, “I have a condo in Hawaii.” No, I’d be thinking, “My company has a condo in Hawaii and I get to use it as a perk of my employment.” If I leave the company I don’t have access to that condo in Hawaii anymore. I no longer get free concert tickets. All of those goodies are contingent upon my employment, just like my access to anything I can’t afford on my own is contingent upon my partner still wanting to be with me.

I think the point of this is to not let your bad experiences rule your life, but it doesn’t mean you don’t implement some safe guards. Instead of declaring, “All men (or women) are bad and I’m not getting involved with anyone ever again!” you examine the red flags you missed and the behavior you tolerated in order to stay in that relationship. It’s not, “I’ll never let down my walls!”, or “I’ll never trust again!”.  It’s being willing to have deal breakers. It’s being willing to say, “This is not acceptable to me,”- and meaning it. It means not overlooking bad behavior and coming up with excuses for it. It’s demanding reciprocity and leaving when you don’t get that instead of continuing to wish upon a star that things were different. You don’t twist yourself into a pretzel trying to get someone else to love you and you’re willing to walk away when you realize this person is never going to be who you need them to be.

I don’t think it’s so much that I’ve built up walls or have trust issues. I think I’ve seen the stark reality of what happens when you go into a relationship thinking you’re a team and that you’ve built this life together, and then one person decides they want out. I can love deeply. I can love fiercely. I can let down my walls and I can trust. But I’m not going to be stupid. I’m not going to put myself in a bad situation like I did the first time around. For me, that means I won’t rely on another man financially ever again. I don’t think that means I have trust issues. I think it means I learned a very valuable lesson. I no longer swim in lakes that are known to have alligators in them.

It’s Not Fair

I often read about people lamenting the fact that their cheating spouse has escaped the marriage with no consequences. They seem to have everything and the cheated on spouse is left with a life in shambles. “Where is the justice?” they often ask. “Why does he (or she) get to ride off into the sunset with a new partner while I’m left all alone? Why has my entire life been firebombed and his (or her) life gone on unscathed? Why isn’t my cheater hurting like I am?”

It goes beyond that, of course. There are feelings of despair. They’re tired. Everything is difficult. Life is a struggle for those left behind. And yes, the cheater does seem to have it all- the new house (or maybe the old house), the new partner, vacations, toys. It sucks. It’s unfair. Why do the cheaters get it all while the ones that are cheated on are left to rebuild?

Of course it appears they have it all! They’re cheaters. No, seriously, they’re cheaters. I don’t mean that only in the sense that they physically cheated with another person. They cheated. Period. It was never a level playing field. They got a head start. They already had everything planned before they walked out the door. They’re not mourning the end of a marriage because they’ve either already done that, or they are incapable of doing that. No one dumped them. They weren’t blindsided by you. Their life was not turned upside down against their will. And life will continue to be unfair until you have a chance to catch up.

Yes, they’ve already got a new bed buddy and you’re all alone? Of course they do! It’s not because you’re unworthy and your cheater is awesome so naturally someone else has glommed onto them. No! It’s because they’re a cheater who already had their next victim lined up. You didn’t do that. You thought you were still in a relationship with this person. If you had known what they were up to you could have got your ducks in a row as well. But the “game” is rigged in their favor. They know and you don’t.

Them knowing what’s going on while you don’t means they can prepare for their new life while you’re preparing their dinner. They can hide money. They can blow marital assets on their accomplice(s). They can get you to sign things and take on debt you wouldn’t take on if you knew what was going on. Every move they make is designed to give them a leg up while keeping you mired in the muck.

They’re financially fine because in most of these cases the cheaters are the high earners while the one being cheated on keeps the home, shuttles the children, makes sure everything runs smoothly, and so on and so forth. It’s a non-paying gig. So they walk out the door and your income goes with them.

Strangely, cheaters always seem to profit, regardless of what side they’re on when it comes to financial matters. If the cheater happens to be the one being supported they’ve already figured out what the poor unsuspecting spouse is going to have to pay them in order to get out of the marriage. They have no conscience. Everything is about them so they don’t give a damn about what they’re doing to you.

It would almost be comical if it weren’t so damn tragic but I see it all the time. The stay at home wife that gets cheated on generally ends up getting screwed over by her cheating husband. She spends the rest of her life living way below the standard of living she enjoyed while married. But the cheating stay at home wife, or the cheating stay at home husband, always seem to end up flush with cash after their divorce. Again, cheaters cheat. And not just sexually. In all areas of their life.

New marriage? New baby? New house? Yes, of course. They have those things because their plan was already in motion. You’re still trying tto come to terms with the fact that you were married to a monster and the monster has been planning their exit for months, if not years. While you were planning a future with this person they were planning their exit strategy.

In the end I guess what I’m trying to say is that of course it seems like they have it all. And it’s easy to get down on yourself when you compare.

Remember though that the reason it seems so easy is because they’ve been laying the groundwork far longer than you can imagine.