Eight Years Ago Today

Eight years ago today I climbed in my minivan with my daughter, my niece, and my three dogs and 2 cats and began the drive from Utah to Virginia. It was supposed to be the beginning of a new life. In a way, I guess it was. Just not the way I had originally thought.

The trip would take 3 days. We would stop the first night in Grand Island, Nebraska. It was a good 12 hours into our trip. Maybe more. We would make it to South Bend the second day so I could drop off my niece. Plus, I wouldn’t have to pay for a hotel room because I would stay at my mom’s house. The third day Rock Star, the dogs, and the cats, and I would finish up the trip- a mere 8 hours.

If you remember anything about foreshadowing from your days of high school English then you should know I should have realized this move was going to be a disaster. The engine in my car was overheating, or doing some other funny thing. I took it into a dealership the following morning before our trip began. They couldn’t get the part in that day but were willing to try to rig something up for me so I could make it “home”. Looking back I remember thinking I absolutely HAD to be there for when the movers came. In hindsight I should have waited for the damn part and just hung out in Indiana. But no! I was so worried about poor Jerry Lee, and how he would deal with the movers all by his little self. So I got in the car and preceded to listen to the damn door chime for the next 8-10 hours. I had asked them to pull the fuse at the dealership and they looked at me like I had grown a second head. Jerry Lee helpfully sent me a diagram but I’m no mechanic. The fuse remained and I got to listen to the door chime all the way to Virginia. But wait! There’s more!

The trip to Harrisonburg from South Bend is mainly toll roads so why I had my GPS on from the beginning I don’t know. I had bought a new charger for my car. I’m not sure what exactly happened. Maybe the charger wasn’t pushed in all the way, but about 2 hours before we hit our destination my phone died and my brand new charger wasn’t working. My GPS was my only source of directions. I had been to my new house twice and both of those times had occurred over a month prior to this visit. I wasn’t sure I could find Jerry Lee’s hotel. I was panicking. With some quick thinking we managed to contact a friend back in Utah who placed a call to Jerry Lee. I think we were able to get directions off of Rock Star’s iPad. She wrote them down so we would have them if her iPad died. She told me later she feared I was going to drive off the mountain.

I don’t recall being that upset but between leaving hours later than we planned, the dinging that went on for approximately 10 hours, the fact my engine light was once again coming on, and having no fucking clue where I was going, I might have been a little stressed.

That trip was my harbinger of doom. I ignored it. Just like I ignored all of Harley’s pictures on her Facebook and the fact she had taken her wedding picture down. Just like I ignored the supposed name snafu where Jerry Lee was going to register the deed to our new house in his name only because one of our names had a typo in it. I still remember telling him, “You better make sure this is what you want because once I make this move you’re stuck with me.” I was telling him he had one last chance to pull the plug on our marriage and go chase down the gold digging whore. Go get her if that’s what you want, but if that’s the case then don’t drag me and the kids away to Virginia away from all of our friends and the lives that we love. You know the story. Liars lie. Turns out he wasn’t stuck with me. He just up and quit his job and moved out of the state he drug us to.

A year after moving in I found out Jerry Lee and Harley were back at it. If they had ever stopped. Two years after moving in I sold off all the furniture I could, had a giant yard sale, and left everything else behind when the kids and I moved to Indiana and in with my mom. Both of the cats that made the trip with us died while we were in Virginia and I only have one of those dogs today. My kids have grown up, too.

Eight years. A lot has changed. Looking back at those pictures and those of the days leading up to the move, I had no idea what was in store for me or my kids.

Thanks for the reminder, Facebook.

A Petty Confession

I have a petty confession to make. Rock Star and I were talking last week. I told her I had finally told her brother that his dad got married. It happened the same time we set up his Venmo account. He saw the picture of his dad kissing Harley and he says to me, “I suppose this is his picture. The one of him kissing a ho.” It’s been two years and Daddy Dearest still hasn’t managed to tell either of his kids that he’s remarried.

She said their anniversary was a few weeks ago. I know that. I remember because my mother shared the news with me as I was on my way down to Virginia to throw the mobster his surprise party. I think their actual anniversary is the day before his birthday, so it’s kind of hard to forget. I don’t know the exact date but I do know it’s around the mobster’s birthday.  Anyway….

She goes on to tell me he announced it on Facebook. That was a whole other conversation because I knew she had told me before she wasn’t friends with him. Seems Jerry Lee has two accounts, not that I give a shit either way. Nonetheless, I was being snarky and asked, “So did he gush about how she’s the love of his life and he’s never been happier?” To which she nodded and said, “Pretty much.”

Why do I even care? I don’t want him back. I’ve spent almost five years coming to terms with the fact that I have mourned the loss of the life I had more than I have ever mourned losing him. I’m finally getting to the point where I’m focusing on what is right now, instead of what I had and what I lost. Yet, it still chaps my ass that he goes out of his way to do this shit for her. He never did anything like that for me. Sure, he was only on Facebook for three years out of the twenty that we were married. Technically I suppose we were married 23 years so he was on it for five years. But a review of the timeline shows I signed him up in 2012; by 2013 he was involved with Harley. After discovering I could see all of his activity if I had his Facebook archives I asked for his password. It didn’t work and shortly thereafter he supposedly deleted Facebook because it made him “so unhappy, comparing his life to others and all they have.” He stayed off until I found out about his second affair with Harley in 2015. In other words, he spent most of his time cheating on me when he had a Facebook page. In hindsight I can see why he wasn’t lovey dovey on it; it was his dating app.

December 2013 would have been an excellent time to toss out the “I love you’s” and “You’re the love of my life!”. Maybe even a, “I will spend the rest of my life making things up to you,” or “Thank you for putting up with me and all my bullshit.” Anything really. But nah, he never did. Not one time did he announce our anniversary or make a big deal of it on social media. But he’ll do it for the whore, the woman who actually was still fucking her husband behind his back while he handed her the remainder of his paycheck.

Just like despite knowing how much it bothered me that neither he nor his family ever commented on my pictures and complimented me, he still never bothered. Yet for Harley the Hillbilly Whore he can always find a spare minute to blow smoke up her ass.

On a scale of 1-10 I find this a solid 2. It irks me. It bothers me for some reason; I’m not sure why. It causes me to question how much is image management and how much is real, and if it is real why couldn’t he do that for me? Maybe that’s why it bothers me. Why couldn’t he do it for me? I was married to him for twenty years. I moved all over the damn country for him. I gave him two children. I fixed his fucking plate for him every night. So why not do something like that for me? It’s a big “Fuck you!” from him to me. For the most part though it makes me shake my head and say to myself, “It wasn’t you. It was him.”

It’s easy to fool myself into thinking that they’re just a better couple, more compatible. Good for them! The reality though is that if he had put one fourth of the effort into our relationship that he makes for her we probably wouldn’t be divorced. As much as he likes to lay all the blame at my feet (I wasn’t a good housekeeper. We never had sex. We grew apart. I focused too much on the kids. I treated him like a wallet and a handyman.) he was not a good husband. He made good money and that’s all I can say for him. Oh, he was handy around the house. But as far as putting any effort into me or our relationship? No. He fell short of the mark. Not only did he fall short of the mark, he didn’t care that he fell short of the mark! He was a shitty partner. He was rarely there for me. I was a wife appliance and he treated me as such. I went through most of our marriage alone. Reminding myself of all of that makes me shake my head and say to myself, “It wasn’t you. It was him.” So why does it gnaw at me, even the tiny little bit that it does? Hmmm….

It’s easy to say maybe he knows he’s married to a low down, trifling ho so he figures he better make the big gestures to keep her around. It’s also easy to say it’s like Chump Lady reminds us:  He’s got to make it seem like the love affair of the century to justify what he did to his wife and kids.

Then I look back on the Facebook messages I’ve posted about the mobster. They’re gushy. They’re loving. This past year on his birthday I told him he was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me. The past two years I mentioned how even though it was his birthday I was the one that was receiving the gift. We wear matching t-shirts and post them on Facebook. Granted, I don’t post often on Facebook but what I do post is genuine. The mobster and I really are an adorable couple. We are over the moon thrilled to have found one another. No, we are thrilled to have found someone who appreciates the efforts we make and is willing to make an equal effort.

Maybe that’s how Jerry Lee feels as well. Perhaps he believes I just held him back and stomped all over him. I mean, I was emotionally abusive according to him. Plus, she’s probably a better housekeeper which… well, means zilch. Maybe what he really wanted was a wife who made money as well. A wife that wouldn’t put up with his bullshit. A wife who would ooh and ahh over every little thing he did and treat him like he was a king. Maybe she’s a better actress than I am, or was just hungrier for his paycheck than I was. Maybe he really is happier than he’s ever been. Maybe she is the great love of his life. It stings a bit, I suppose, knowing that I was nothing to him. Just a broodmare, a cook, a laundress, a chauffeur, and a bad housekeeper.

Like I said, it’s a solid 2 on a scale of 1-10. In the end it doesn’t matter. They’re two shitty human beings and if being with shit makes him happier then good for him. My guess is it’s a lot of image management. They’re two cheaters and one of them is going to cheat on the other in the end. I know he’s no prize. I know I don’t miss him or want him back. I also know I’ve got the best relationship I’ve ever had with the mobster.

Perhaps it all comes down to realizing that a twenty year marriage didn’t mean a damn thing. He cheated and left after all. Abandoned his kids. So I suppose it makes sense that this new life makes him happier than he’s ever been. If I am happier than I’ve ever been it stands to reason that perhaps he is happier than he’s ever been. Then again, he’s a lying asshole and I’m not.

I don’t think I’m going to get a resolution on this. The best I can hope for is to roll my eyes and let it walk on by. Not my circus, not my monkeys. Fear not, though. I’m not wanting him back. I’m not mourning his loss. I’m simply dealing with yet another slap in the face.

Huh… So This Happened 8 Years Ago Today

I came across this tonight.

Just to be clear the original post was simply about setting Jerry Lee up on Facebook. I added the rest of that a few years later. 🙂

We were in Kentucky for Easter when I did this. Staying with Tammy Faye and Pastor Fake. He had resisted forever and I thought it would be funny to create a profile for him. In hindsight I don’t think funny was the correct word. Tragic. Life changing. Foolish. Let’s go with a moment in time that irrevocably changed the course of my life and the lives of my children. But that’s not all!

This was the same weekend that Jezebel took Jerry Lee to meet her future husband, #3. Completely excluded me. Gave me a bullshit story about how they never got to do anything just the two of them. I was stupid enough to believe that. He was already lying and I hadn’t a clue.

By April or May of the next year, 2013, Jerry Lee was cheating on me with Harley. In May, Mother’s Day weekend in fact, he admitted to texting her and swore he would end it. In June, Jezebel and #3 got married. Good ol’ Jerry Lee went by himself to the wedding. By himself I mean without his wife and children. I’m fairly certain that they met up that weekend. They certainly had plans to. They were even going to get tattoos together. And in August I found out he hadn’t ended it with Harley after all.

This time of year in 2014 we were replacing carpet and flooring in our Utah home as we prepared to move across the country to Virginia. Two months later we would buy a home in Harrisonburg and three months later we, the kids and I, would make the move and join Jerry Lee.

This time of year in 2015 I was suicidal. My gut was screaming at me but I continued to bury my head in the sand. Surely he wouldn’t move us across the country, invest all the money we had invested in this new life, and then turn around and take up with Harley again. Oh, but he would. Almost four months to the day I would find out about his affair with Harley.

Eight years ago today I ended my life as I knew it. I had no clue at that moment what I had just done.

 

Facebook Memories, Go Away!

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

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

The summer though… it can be a bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Forced Civilization

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More Crazy Talk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s next in Whore Philosophy 101?

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

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

My favorite one, though, was this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

The Doubts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

The Highlight Reel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His Vengeance Will Be Felt By All!

I have been very bad at writing regularly. Truthfully I am always tired. I don’t have seasonal affect disease or whatever they call it, where you get all depressed during the winter months due to lack of sunshine. I do, however, have an uncanny ability to sleep the minute it gets dark. Seriously, it could be 2:30 in the afternoon and if you turned all the lights down and put me in a dark room I would probably fall asleep. So the winter with it’s shorter days is not a good time for me. I come home, it’s dark, I have to cook dinner. It doesn’t help that I’ve been scheduled to close a lot lately, so I don’t get off until 5:45 (6:15 on Fridays if I’m closing). I even had one day where I got called to close one of our in store branches which doesn’t close until 7. My weekends have been kind of busy so I sometimes end up grocery shopping after work some days which means I’m home even later. By the time I’m done with dinner it’s dark and I’m ready to relax. For some reason whenever I start to read or write I feel my eyes getting heavy and I’m ready to sleep. Then the mobster calls and I’m up for a few hours. Maybe I should start writing posts while I’m on the phone with him.

Remember the text heard ‘round the world a few weeks ago? It was the one to his sister where he pretty much threatened her for nothing other than remaining in my life, and that of his kids. She didn’t badmouth him. I think she might have said Harley deserved whatever crap came her way. Aside from that there was nothing bad in what we wrote.

Remember Bob? Remember how he unfriended Bob and sent him a strongly worded message? Bob would not tell me what he said under the guise of, “I’ve never told him what we’ve said so I can’t betray his confidence and tell you what he told me.” Alrighty. I won’t point out that CF doesn’t need to be told what we’ve said because he hacked into my Facebook and therefore can see everything we’ve said. Go ahead and try to be fair to all.

Remember CF’s cousin? The one who reached out to me to tell me she was sorry for opening a can of worms? The one who did nothing aside from offer support? The one who said CF was family and it wasn’t her business what happened between us? Let’s call her Jane.

Bob contacted me a few weeks ago, probably right around the time CF threatened his sister, to let me know that CF had unfriended Jane.

I finally asked Bob if CF had threatened him after sharing with him what had been said to CF’s sister. Bob admitted that CF had issued a veiled threat. No threat was issued to Jane. In fact, she had had no idea CF had unfriended her until Bob told her about the things that had transpired between him and CF.

Even better? Harley unfriended Jane, too! She and Jane are cousins as well. What was Jane’s sin? I guess it was not hating me. She offered me sympathy for all I had been through. She never once said a bad thing about CF or Harley. She simply commiserated with me and gave me an open invitation to visit her whenever. She gave me advice on my kids and how they were coping, and offered me advice on post divorce life. She did tell CF once that divorce ended our relationship but it didn’t end his relationship with his kids.

Apparently, not only is the enemies list a very exclusive list but also the list of friends is very exclusive. It also comes with many conditions. The first one being: You must always acknowledge Sam is an absolutely terrible, no good, horrible person who must be maligned and destroyed!

I am back to the conclusion once again that he is simply batshit crazy. He’s a miserable person at his core. Now he no longer has me as an excuse for his misery; I’m no longer holding him back. Yet, he’s still miserable. That’s his default setting. It’s the only place he feels comfortable. So now the things I’m doing post divorce must be the cause of all his problems. It’s always me, folks! Never him. Never his behavior.

Have fun stalking me and banishing everyone who doesn’t hate me. Glad I can give your life purpose once again. That must be one fragile house you’ve built if you can’t stand to have anyone around who doesn’t completely agree with you 100% in every aspect.

With Miracles Comes Drama

You knew there had to be a catch, didn’t you?

CF struck again. I was telling Rock Star that Christmas was going to be a little lean but that once I had my money I would get her the more expensive gift she wanted. That’s when she informed me her dad had sent her a text the day before, letting her know that I had received my child and spousal support in full.

I know what you’re thinking. You must be imagining him as a jolly Christmas elf, spreading Christmas cheer! Don’t worry, Rock Star! Daddy has come through for you. You’re going to have a great Christmas because I finally did the right thing and paid your mom the court ordered support I owe her. I didn’t spend it all on my home wrecker cousin and her brood before taking a look at what was left over and then sending some your way. No, baby doll, it’s Christmas! I want you and your brother to be happy and to have everything you want this year!  The sky’s the limit!  It’s going to be like Christmases of yesterday. Daddy loves you and misses you and I hope we can use this holiday season to bridge the gap between us because it’s killing me to not have you and your brother in my life!

Of course, you would be wrong. Basically, he was telling her he wouldn’t be sending a gift her way because I was taking all his money. How was it he put it? Your mother should be buying you some really nice gifts because I’m paying her $4600/month and will be for the rest of my life.

There are so many things wrong with that. Where do I even begin? Let’s start with this: He made my kid cry. That sad sack sonofabitch with his “poor me” routine and utter obliviousness to what he’s put his own children through, made my kid cry. Fuck him!

Or how about the obvious lie he told- I’m paying her $4600/month and will be for the rest of my life. He will not be paying me $4600/month for the rest of his life. His support amount will go down in June when she graduates. It will go down again once Picasso graduates in another 3 1/2 years. After both kids are 18 he will be paying only his $2800 in spousal support and even that is not for life, unless he has a terminal illness I’m not aware of. It will last for 16 years. Hardly a life time. Hell, we were married longer than that.

I won’t even fault him for telling her that he sent the support. I’m a big proponent of telling the kids the truth, especially when they’re teens. I don’t care if they know how much I get from him each month. I’d planned on going over our budget with them later next month anyway.

I do fault him for acting like the hapless victim once again. Not once in this long text message did he ever ask her how she was doing. He never apologized for his behavior or his choices. He didn’t even tell her that he loved her.

No. You know what he did do? He told her he knew that she hated him but “her mother was doing the exact same thing.”

I was right. He somehow hacked my FB page and he’s been talking to the mobster’s STBX. I don’t know who contacted whom but I know they’ve been talking. How do I know this?

CF proceeded to tell my daughter that my “boyfriend” was still married and that he had physically abused his wife. He knew this was true because he heard it directly out of her mouth. We all know how truthful lying cheaters are. Throw in alcoholism on top of that and you’ve got yourself a fantastic inside source.

Yes, I’m doing exactly the same thing that Cousinfucker and Harley did. I’m sneaking around behind my husband’s back, letting him think that we are happily married and I’m committed to him and only him, while I fuck around with another man. I’m letting him think I’m going through a mental breakdown and while he’s telling me he’s going to stand by me and won’t ever leave me I’m making plans with the help of my mommy to dump his ass for my cousin. I’m taking marital funds and spending it on another man and his kids while letting my own kids go without. In fact, I didn’t announce this on my blog but I’ve recently vacated my home and moved in with the mobster all without saying a single word to my kids. I just got in the car one day, went to work, and then moved out of state.

Likewise, the mobster is sneaking around behind his wife’s back, telling her how much he loves her and wants to remain married, while he messes around with me.

That’s a little difficult when she’s living with another man! Not just any man either. The man she fucked around on him with. The man she introduced their daughter to as a benign friend. The man who had the balls to talk to the mobster like nothing was going on while he fucked his wife behind his back. The man she fucking left him for and promptly moved in with all without saying a fucking word to him or his kids. Sound familiar?

Those two nincompoops are so caught up in their poor me, I’m such a victim, why is this all happening to innocent little ol’ me mentality that they really think it is the same thing.

Fuck them both! Yes, I am still married, and so is the mobster. I no longer give a shit. We are the cheated on spouses. They lied to us, they betrayed us, they humiliated us. THEY left US. THEY are both living with OTHER PEOPLE and have been since the day they left our homes.

I am NOT the other woman. I did not traipse into someone else’s intact marriage and say, “Oooh, I want that!” His ex had already moved in with her married boyfriend. She had left him two months before I ever knew he existed. He had already begun taking the steps to file for divorce.

And what in the hell is with the abuse narrative that all these cheating women come up with? She’s not the first I’ve heard of. Hell, watch an episode of ID TV and you’ll hear it over and over. It’s not enough that she leaves him. It’s not enough that she leaves her kids behind without saying a word. No, now she has to malign him and try to assassinate his character.

For the grand finale he begged her to call her grandmother, good ol’ Tammy Faye, the orchestrator of this lovely affair-y tale. It was something along the lines of: I know you hate me but she’s done nothing to you. She’s going crazy not seeing you. She loves you and misses you.

Yes, she misses her grandchildren so much that she doesn’t bother reaching out to them. Oh, she used to comment on Rock Star’s Facebook page. Until Rock Star unfriended her. And she sent Picasso a Christmas card with a similar message, telling him how much she misses him and sure wishes she could see him again. She’ll send a birthday card and a Christmas card, but aside from that… nothing.

Any of them could get in the car and drive up here to see their beloved grandchildren/niece/nephew, but none of them do. Why not? Because it’s too much of an inconvenience. Much better to expect me to drive them, or to have my brand new driver make the 5-6 hour drive, right?

One final detail. He told her he had no way of contacting her brother as he didn’t have his phone number.

Huh. That’s strange. Picasso has had the same number since he got his first phone. How does he not have the phone number because he sure as hell had it 2 years ago?

Thankfully Rock Star saw through her dad’s bullshit. She said she thought about texting him back, calling him on his lies, but she decided it wasn’t worth it. She was smart enough to see it for what it was- yet another ploy for sympathy. As she said, “Sorry you’re just now experiencing consequences!” She pointed out that he never once asked about her and her well being, only lamented his own. He still doesn’t seem to get that he ruined her life- twice! First, making her move from Utah, destroying everything she knew there, and then making her leave Virginia and forcing her to leave behind her new life she built. She’s pissed and she has every right to be.

She also brought up the fact that her grandmother is not without fault. Tammy Faye did do something to her- she urged the whore to call her father. Even if that hadn’t happened she still condones what her dad and the whore are doing and Rock Star won’t forgive her for that. There are consequences for your actions, and unfortunately Tammy Faye is just now learning that. There’s that ugly word again. And I’m sure it never dawns on them that any of this is a direct result of their own bad choices. No, it’s all horrible things being done to them, these loving, sweet Christians who are so good and kind and do nothing wrong.

As for me and the mobster, well, she pretty much said the exact same thing I just said. It’s not the same thing. She knows his wife left him. She knows he would be divorced if his wife didn’t refuse to sign the papers. She knows he isn’t abusive.

I’m going to go off on a little tangent here and then bring it back and conclude this. This crap is exactly why you tell the kids the truth in age appropriate language. It’s why you report the facts and don’t editorialize. I’ve heard of way too many people who have taken the so called high road and had it backfire on them horribly- kids blaming them for divorcing their other parent, kids being persuaded by the cheating parent that the betrayed spouse is crazy or had it coming, the affair partner being benignly introduced to the kids as just someone new. It’s total crap. Tell them the truth or the cheater is going to be busy filling their head with lies.

These people aren’t content with cheating, lying, and leaving you. They want to destroy you, and they have no problem with lying over and over again if it makes them look good and makes you look bad. Get the facts out there because if you don’t, I assure you, the cheater will be getting their own version of what happened out there.

That’s why I’ve shut that shit down every single time I’ve had it happen. His sister messaged me to say I would always be a part of her family because I was the mother of her niece and nephew. Upon talking to her she told me all she had been told by her brother was that I had had him served with divorce papers and he was clueless as to why that may be. You can bet your ass I was on the phone immediately, filling her in. I didn’t editorialize. I simply told the truth: He’s having an affair with Harley again. That’s why I filed. He knows exactly why I filed for divorce.

Later on when she said he had told her he had been kicked out of the house and that I refused to let him take any of the household items with him I told her he had never asked for anything and that we were unaware he was moving out.

I didn’t call him an asshole or a liar in either of those situations. I simply corrected misinformation.

When his good friend from high school told me he had never known CF to lie I calmly listed the many lies he had told me. Again, I didn’t put him down; I corrected misinformation.

In conclusion, I’m doing my best to not let this get to me. I find it very creepy that CF and Batshit Crazy are talking to one another. Between the two of them they wouldn’t recognize the truth if it hit them square in the ass. They both love to play the victim while they go about victimizing people. They’ve both abandoned their kids and cheated on their spouse. I’m sure they are egging each other on.

On the other hand, once my divorce decree is signed, sealed, and delivered, I don’t give a shit what they talk about. They can pop popcorn and sit around a fire, trying to outdo one another with their crazy stories of their horrible ex. I’m not sure if Harley would participate or if she would just be pissed that her true love has a new bestie.

Rock Star seems convinced that he’s pissed that I’ve moved on. I’m not sure I believe that. I don’t really know what’s motivating him right now. Mainly, I think he’s just pissed he got his ass handed to him by the judge so he’s lashing out. He probably thought he had hit the mother lode when he realized I was dating again, and when he found the STBX of the man I was dating. Sorry, Charlie! Move along; nothing to see here. Don’t you have a whore to fuck?