Into the Bowels of Hell, The Recap, Part 3

We’re up to the fifth and final hurdle. This ended up being a new one for me. I never anticipated having breakfast with her.

Fifth hurdle- breakfast the day after the party. Oh, Jesus, help me! Her sister apologized profusely the night before. She (the sister) had wanted to get together with her niece and nephews for breakfast because they were going to be taking off the next day. BSC heard them making plans and invited herself on over for breakfast with them.

I have to admit, for a small window of time I was kinda pissed at the mobster that he didn’t text her and flat out tell her not to come. You are not invited! You are not welcome. Stay away.

I got over it. I did not, however, make breakfast. Yeah, no. I’m not cooking breakfast for that woman. Instead, Mobster and his brother-in-law made breakfast.

It turned out to be a very interesting morning. I’m glad it happened because I learned a lot.

When I first came out of the bedroom BSC was sitting at the table with her sister. A’s girlfriend asked me how I was and I replied, “Fabulous,” and went about my business of grabbing a cup and making my coffee.

Thankfully, she spent most of her time outside with her sister. Hooray! I spent it inside (in the air conditioning) with the sons’ wife and girlfriends. Very interesting stuff.

I’m going to call the oldest son’s girlfriend Little Miss Sunshine, because that girl is so sweet and loving. I’m going to call the middle son’s wife CeeCee, because his first name begins with a C and her first name begins with a C, making her C’s C. The youngest son’s girlfriend I will refer to as The Dog Lover. Honestly, all three of these young women are dog lovers, but the other two have other nicknames from me. Now for the stories.

Story #1- A, the oldest, was asking Little Miss Sunshine what his mother was doing here. She told him she had no idea. I raised my hand and said I knew. I asked him if he wanted me tell him, which he did. So, I told him about her overhearing her sister when she was making plans for breakfast with them and her inviting herself over for that. He shook his head in amazement.

At another point C had to go outside and say hello to her. CeeCee was like, “Better him than me.”

It’s sad when your kids feel that way about you. Which brings us to Story #2.

I have to say I really enjoyed spending time with C and CeeCee this time around. Not that I didn’t enjoy it before. This time it felt more authentic, I guess. I learned a lot more. I feel like more barriers were down. I think CeeCee is just a much more reserved person. I think both her and The Dog Lover are a bit reserved, unlike Little Miss Sunshine who is bubbly and overflows with sweetness and kindness.

Anyway, CeeCee began talking about BSC. I forget what led to it, but basically she has no tolerance for her. She hates the way she manipulates her kids, especially C. As she put it, “She’s always the victim.” Exactly! That’s what we’ve been saying! Not that we’ve ever said that out loud to the kids, of course. She went on to say that it would be nice if she could take a step back and look at what she’s done to her kids, and see that maybe the reason her kids don’t want to have a whole lot to do with her has to do with her own behavior. She gave the example of BSC texting C late at night to tell him she got kicked out of the house and she was living in the woods. She said he would get upset and worried about her while CeeCee tries to remind him that it’s all lies.

I am a bit proud of this girl because she knows in her early twenties something that a lot of people don’t figure out until their forties or fifties. You can’t have a relationship with a toxic person. She said that. She even mentioned that she’s not sure she would even want BSC around her children, and cited that as a major reason they’re not sure they want kids.

At one point CeeCee said that BSC doesn’t like her and never has. She talked about how frustrating it was that BSC didn’t come to her bridal shower or anything else having to do with the wedding, but then showed up at the wedding, drinking, dancing, whooping it up and acting like nothing was wrong. Preach it, girl!

I took that opportunity to tell her that yes, I did actually have Garth Brooks’ concert tickets, but once I found out she was going to be there I decided not to come, or at least that had been a huge part of my thinking the entire time. I flat out told her I was worried that she would have shown her ass and I didn’t want them to have to worry about that on their big day. She agreed with me and said that’s probably exactly what would have happened. She also said BSC didn’t bother to show up until right before the wedding began.

I think this may have led into Little Miss Sunshine telling her that BSC had glommed onto her at the wedding and was trash talking her and A’s ex-wife. Seriously, who does that? You don’t go to a wedding and trash talk the bride! You may not care for the bride or groom, but you don’t pick their wedding reception as a chance to vent your frustrations to their other guests!

In addition to telling Little Miss Sunshine how much she disliked V and CeeCee and that Little Miss Sunshine was the only good girl in the family, she also took that opportunity to steal sips out of her drink. Like, she would reach over, take a sip, and put it back in front of her.

When BSC finally decided to leave the house and head back to her own place she came inside to say goodbye. We were sitting and standing around the table. I think C was there. A. Little Miss Sunshine. CeeCee was sitting on the end. I was beside her. Rock Star beside me. I think maybe the brother-in-law was next to her. Possibly the grandson. L was sitting slightly behind us, on the barstool and The Dog Lover was sitting next to him.

She hugs C. Hugs A. Hugs Little Miss Sunshine and makes a big deal of saying goodbye to “baby girl” and telling her to keep in contact and be sure to send those pictures of the grandson. She turns around, completely ignoring CeeCee, myself, and Rock Star. Pats L on his cheek before giving him a hug. Ignores The Dog Lover. Hugs the grandson and the brother-in-law and then heads out. Wow!

Come to think of it, after she left I looked at Little Miss Sunshine and remarked, “You must be something special. She didn’t say bye to CeeCee or me!” That may have been when she launched into her story about the wedding and all the trash talk.

Either way, this is your daughter-in-law. Your son has chosen to marry her. I’m not saying you have to hug her and love on her and act like you think she’s the best thing ever. But is it asking too much to say goodbye, maybe even a, “Nice to see you again,” regardless of whether or not it’s a lie? The brass balls on this woman is astounding.

When I look back on this weekend I will be able to say that it was a great weekend, despite BSC’s presence. For the most part we stayed away from each other. When we had to be close by, even passing right by one another, we didn’t look at each other and we didn’t speak.

His kids were amazing about accepting Rock Star into the fold. She was frequently called out to be on a team for volleyball. At one point she told me, “God, I always said I wanted a big brother and now I’ve got 3.” She’s not real sure about that.

The night after graduation we went over to C’s, as I mentioned, and we had a fantastic time. I know the mobster just enjoyed having all of his kids together. All his baby birds in one nest.

Saturday was spent at the house, enjoying the graduation party.

Sunday after the disastrous breakfast the “kids” all played volleyball, then we (C, CeeCee, A, Little Miss Sunshine, the grandson, Rock Star, Mobster, and I) went to grab snow cones. The mobster and I left the snow cone shack to meet his brother and sister-in-law at a winery here in town. My daughter left to go put gas in the car and buy herself a new pair of swim bottoms. The last remaining members went to play pinball and arcade games, although CeeCee went home to shower and do some homework. T, who didn’t go with us to get a snow cone, met her two brothers at the arcade. Then we all met up for Mexican food around 5:30.

I heard some incredibly funny stories about their childhood while we were there. The evening could be summed up as a lot of laughter.

We all went over to C and CeeCee’s house after dinner. They played yard games and volleyball. There was some more drinking, although not a lot.

For me, I felt like I really connected with his kids this weekend. A was very warm and welcoming. He is his father’s mini me. The mobster always said it was C, and while C never seems to meet a stranger much like his father, A is a carbon copy. Holy moly!

I felt very accepted and welcomed by C, and this was the most I have ever spent talking to CeeCee. She’s a very sweet girl. She loves C very much and I know she hates what he’s gone through. She’s a good wife. Very loyal to him. I’m sorry I missed their wedding and I wish I could have been there, although I absolutely know it was the best decision.

Monday morning A and Little Miss Sunshine were up around 5:30 to get the car packed and get back on the road. I got up with the mobster to send them off. I got hugs from all three of them, which was nice. A said, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again sometime soon,” which was also nice.

To sum up, there was a little drama but it was definitely outweighed by the goodness of the weekend. As always I bow to the mobster. He is the smartest man alive.

 

Into the Bowels of Hell, The Recap, Part 2

I’ve crossed the first three hurdles. They ended up being surprisingly easy. This next one, though… it was a little tougher. Little more drama. I took my first drink (punch spiked with vodka) around 1 and kept on drinking until late that night. Thankfully, it was spread out over 8-10 hours so I never even got buzzed, despite having 3 drinks in hand at one point in the afternoon!

Fourth hurdle- the graduation party. Sweet J nailed it. She absolutely, positively did show up. She was there all freaking day! The party started at 1 and I don’t think she left until 6 or 7. It might have been later. So much for not being able to bear seeing the mobster with me, huh?

Oh, and for those who doubt she’s batshit crazy and I’m just interpreting things from my point of view? She’s batshit crazy. 11:00 the night before the party she texts the mobster, “I hope you go to hell!” Who does that?

To her credit though she did bring 16 hotdogs and 2 packages of hot dog buns. Plus a watermelon. And maybe some potato salad, but I’m not sure.

Even better, at the graduation she tells one of his sisters that she dislikes the mobster immensely, but then shut her pie hole when her sister came up. Can’t let anyone see that she’s the instigator, of course.

Thankfully, her sister had already told Mobster that she recognized BSC always played the victim. It’s always someone doing something to her. It’s never her fault. In fact, later that evening after she went over to see where she was living they went by the site of her accident last year. She pointed it out and was laughing about it.

On top of all of that, according to various sources she spent a great deal of the party crying. Someone told the mobster the day of the party his ex was in the house crying and two days later someone else told me she had been bawling and carrying on pretty much the entire party.

Okay, the person who told me was the mobster’s mother. And the story I heard was that for some reason BSC yelled, “You don’t love me!” to her and then apologized for her behavior as she was leaving. Mobster’s mom said she was surprised because BSC had never raised her voice to her like that before.

There’s a very good chance she was drinking, though. She and the boyfriend’s sister kept going up to the car that was parked behind the house.

I have no idea what she was crying about and so far I have yet to hear a good explanation from anyone who might have been near her.

She is the one that was cheating. She is the one who left. She is the one who moved straight in with her boyfriend. You would think with all her crying and poor little me attitude that I was the other woman who had moved in on her husband while she was none the wiser and thought they had a blissfully happy marriage. Nope, not how it played out.

One of the mobster’s sisters swears she’s unhappy with her life and wants to come back to him and that’s why she’s acting like this.

I think she simply can’t believe he moved on. He was supposed to always stick around and be waiting, and he didn’t. She pushed him too far this last time and he was done.

But what would I know? We stayed in separate areas the entire time. Well, almost the entire time. At one point I was outside underneath a canopy with Mobster’s brother-in-law (not the one married to BSC’s sister) and a few other people. Mobster was playing, “Don’t Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)” by Motley Crue, and I was singing along. I was sitting in this comfy adirondack chair, my eyes closed, drink in hand. Someone called out to T and asked her to come over to where we were. I am singing the chorus: Girl, don’t go away mad. Girl, just go away. I happen to open my eyes, thinking T had come over, and who should appear but BSC. Oops!

I remained composed. It wasn’t intentional but it sure as hell was funny. The brother-in-law was looking at me like, “Oh shit!” Eh. She went away. Just like the song suggested.

Most of the time though if she was outside we were inside. Or, she was underneath a tent and Rock Star and I were in the garage.

The same brother-in-law who ended up enjoying my concert later, sat with me in the garage while we ate and asked me if it was awkward. I told him it was okay. He then went on to say she was walking around like she still owned the place. I wouldn’t know because I didn’t pay much attention to her.

I think when she first arrived she did come into the house with her boyfriend’s sister. We would just walk by one another. Never said a word to each other. His sister was plenty nice though and offered to help.

At one point Mobster and I drove up to his parents’ house because his son had inadvertently taken T’s phone with him. He agreed to turn around and drop it off at his grandparents’ house and Mobster would go pick it up.

When we came back we parked up behind the house. “That looks like David’s truck,” he says to me as we were walking back to the house. “It wasn’t here earlier.”

“Surely she wouldn’t attempt to bring him to this party,” I told him. I was thinking there was no way their balls were that big.

Alas, I was wrong and Monica nailed it. I’m not sure how we got separated but I walked into the house and saw him standing with her on the enclosed porch. I’m pretty sure my eyes got wide and I was thinking, “Oh shit! Mobster is going to lose his mind.”

I do remember walking into the house and preparing the Jell-O shots (not alcoholic; they’re actually pudding and Jell-O topped with Cool Whip.) and when his sister-in-law came up I said he was going to be pissed and then asked what the fuck was wrong with some people.

I shouldn’t have worried though because the mobster handled it like a champ. I think she wanted the drama and he didn’t give it to her. He ignored it all (aside from passive aggressively playing music). We didn’t even do grand gestures of affection in front of her.

At one point I know we were outside sweating our asses off while she and her boyfriend enjoyed the air conditioning inside.

There is a juvenile, petty side of me that would have loved to have seen the boyfriend escorted off the property, or for the mobster and I to have been kissing and hugging and making a scene. But, as the mobster kept saying, “It’s T’s party. It’s all about her today. I don’t want to ruin her party.” And he was correct.

Had we done either of those things it would have been playing into BSC’s hands. We would be seen as the unstable ones, the unreasonable ones, while she comes off looking like the victim. Sometimes you’ve gotta eat a little bit of shit, I guess. Really, it wasn’t that difficult. We stayed away from them. They stayed away from us. Although, there was a point where I told him I was going to go up to the two of them and ask them if they wanted to play cornhole. I didn’t.

Three other small things: #1- at the beginning of the party T came up to the mobster and I and put her arms around us both. She said thank you for her party. I told her she was welcome but that it was all her dad’s doing. Just between us, yes, I helped decorate but he bought all the decorations. I made Scotcheroos, beer bread, taco dip and Jell-O shots, which she requested, but he bought the hotdogs, the hamburgers, the buns, and the 6 ft. sub. Her grandmother brought potato salad and really cute sweet treats. T’s sister-in-law brought a pasta salad. We all pitched in a little to help him out but he did the majority of the work.

The mobster did mention he wondered if she did that to piss her mom off. I have no idea. I prefer to think it was genuine and that she was really grateful for the awesome party her dad put together and that I helped with.

#2- Later in the afternoon I was passing out the Jell-O shots when one of T’s friends piped up with, “Wow- Sam’s the good mom!” Disclaimer: This happened in the house in the living room. Mom was safely outside.

To be honest I was a little taken back. More like a deer in headlights. Oh shit! What do you say to that? All of her friends know the story but I wasn’t expecting that. I know there was a time when she had a few friends over and her mom was also over getting something and they all made it a point to say hello very loudly to me. I probably didn’t handle it the best way. I probably should have said, “Well, yes, I am a good mom, but that’s because I’m a good mom to my own two kids.” I guess that could have made things really awkward though. Instead I laughed it off.

His oldest son, the one I had just met the day before, was there in the living room, playing video games with the other kids, and he pretty much laughed it off as well and told her friend, “You know, in “The Good Mother” the mother actually wasn’t good so that’s not really the compliment you think it is.”

Then we both laughed about it and I made a lame joke about being evil.

#3- As I mentioned a moment ago I made beer bread. Turns out C is a huge fan. I’ve written before how I sometimes feel like some of Mobster’s kids don’t like me. This time though C looks at me and asks, “What kind of bread is that?” I told him it was beer bread. I was thinking he was going to tell me he was allergic or something and run to spit it out, but instead he got a big grin on his face and said, “I love beer bread. You’re the best!”

Yes! Success! Sam came. She baked. She conquered!

Into the Bowels of Hell, The Recap, Part 1

First, the good news. I survived! That’s awesome, isn’t it? Did you doubt me? I’m a plucky little thing.

Second, there is so much to recap that I’m going to have to do this in three parts, or you’ll be here reading for a good 30 minutes.

To summarize, when I last left off I had five hurdles to navigate. #1- meeting the oldest son, his girlfriend, and the grandson, #2- meeting the sister and brother-in-law, #3- meeting the son placed for adoption, #4- the graduation, and #5- the party.

As it turns out the adopted son did not attend. Something about he doesn’t have a license so he was going to fly but then nobody heard from him. Regardless, I didn’t meet the son placed for adoption.

Funnily enough I still ended up with five fucking hurdles. I got blindsided with a breakfast at the house with her on Sunday. Fun, fun!

Are you ready?

First hurdle to navigate- meeting the oldest son. He and his girlfriend were delightful. If they hated me they are very good at covering it. I jest. We had a great weekend together. His girlfriend is just the sweetest thing ever! She immediately went to hug me and then stopped herself. “Is it okay if I hug you?” she asked. Of course I said yes.

I think it was later that night someone was talking about what he should buy his girlfriend. I piped in with, “You could buy her a hot tub.” Now, there was a purpose behind this. It wasn’t as random as it sounds in this post, but I can’t remember what we were talking about. He replied, “I might be able to do that. It’s better than what most people tell me I should buy her. They’re always telling me I should buy her a ring.” Immediately I reply, “Well, you should do that, too.” This brings me to the point of this whole paragraph. He says, “Wait a minute! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

I thought that was cute. It was like we were a team already.

Second hurdle- meeting the sister and brother-in-law. What can I say? The mobster is the smartest man in the world. He’s getting a bit cocky with it now because this last time I admitted it he asked me, “So when are you finally going to start listening to me?”

They couldn’t have been nicer and more welcoming. His brother-in-law, upon meeting me, asked, “Is this Facebook Sam?” Yes, yes it is.

Later that night, after the graduation, he put his arm around me, leaned down and told me it was nice to see the mobster smiling again.

Her sister was super helpful the day of the party. She helped decorate and was always asking if there was something she could do.

They taught us how to play new board games, invited us both up to New Hampshire, and gave us hugs when they left.

They were both fantastic. It didn’t feel awkward at all.

Third hurdle- graduation. She showed up. Several people, including her sister, said she either looked or sounded drunk.

Thankfully we didn’t sit together. There were over 20 of us there for T’s graduation and we didn’t even all sit together. It was so hot and humid. Of course it was outside, which worked well for the graduates as far as not having to limit the number of people they could have. It was hell for the audience, though.

She was hugging on all of the mobster’s family. So great to see them all, I’m sure.

At one point her sister was waving to someone and it caught my eye. I looked up and happened to lock eyes with BSC for a moment. That was uncomfortable.

After the graduation we all went out onto the field to take pictures with the graduate. Naturally, BSC was close by, hugging people, and just generally acting like Mother of the Year.

We ignored each other, which suited me fine. T came up to me and told me she wanted to get a picture with me. She had already taken one with Rock Star.

The mobster’s family all came up and said hello to me and made sure to keep me included.

After the graduation we bought pizzas and went over to C’s house. There was eating and drinking and a bonfire. She was not invited. We were out until after midnight. It was worth it though. I know the mobster enjoyed being around all of his kids.

To be continued…

My Condolences, Asshole

No contact is so hard sometimes! There are times I would really like to let loose on CF but I don’t. It’s especially hard when I have people telling me I shouldn’t let him get away with saying the crap he says. I tell myself instead that the fact I won’t engage him makes him furious. I am frequently reminded over on Chump Lady that ignoring him and going on with my life without acknowledging him is the greatest insult I could lob at him.

What has brought this on, pray tell? I’m so glad you asked! It’s April 29th and CF still has half of my spousal support to pay. As of the 20th of this month he had paid one half of the child support. That was it. Two thirds of the way through the month and he had paid less than a quarter of what he owed. Call me crazy for worrying about whether or not it would get paid but the man doesn’t have a great track record. I don’t think I’m completely out of bounds for thinking this might be the month he decides not to pay.

On top of that April has been a bitch as far as finances go. I had to pay taxes this year. Quite a bit, too. Cheerleading fees for this month were out of this world high because of U.S. Finals and Summit coaching fees, plus required practice wear for Summit, in addition to the regular fee. I then had to pay an additional fee for her actually going to Summit which included her park pass and probably the entry fee for her. Picasso somehow managed to break his bed so that had to be replaced. I was supposed to buy plane tickets to Orlando for our Summit trip; at this point we are now driving the 17 hours. Thanks, Asshole. I needed to book a hotel for the same trip. Plus, as an additional bonus I found out that the final date to buy passes for the parks and the competition was April 23rd; he didn’t pay me again until the 24th. I will now have to pay more money to get into the parks and to the competition. Again, thank you, Asshole. I have to pay my CPA. I got yet another lawyer bill for over $400, seeing as how she’s finally getting me my share of the 401k and pension. Of course, she sends me the same damn shit three or four times and I pay for each and every copy, along with postage. My daughter has prom next month and still hadn’t bought a dress. Next month I’m sure I will be bombarded with prom expenses (shoes, hair, nails, etc.) and the following month is her graduation. I still need to buy graduation announcements because she decided she wanted to do picture announcements instead of the traditional ones. Plus, I am still planning on heading to Utah for a wedding in June, which will involve me buying three plane tickets. But who the hell knows when he’ll finally get May’s support to me?

Because he doesn’t have the greatest track record, and because I don’t want him to harbor any illusions that I’ll silently suffer through another ten months of little to no support, I texted him. I was polite and professional. I told him the month was almost over and he had only paid half of his child support so far; I then asked him if he had a plan for catching up.

See? Polite and professional.

He mulled that over for the weekend and decided to grace me with a response on Monday, later in the day.

Don’t stress yourself. The money will be paid.

What a condescending twat waffle! Don’t stress myself? Gosh, I can’t imagine why I would stress. It’s not like he’s ever not paid…. Oh… Wait…. My bad.

He follows that up with:

If you absolutely must know, I am catching up from funeral expenses for my mother. Thank you for your condolences and those of the children as well.

There is so much material here! Where do I even begin?

If I absolutely must know? Motherfucker, you owe me money! Damn right I must know. Don’t neglect your legal obligation and then act like you’re doing me some kind of a favor. If you want a break for paying your mom’s funeral expenses then perhaps you should contact me and arrange something with me. Would it be so difficult to say,”Sam, I’m helping to pay my mom’s funeral expenses. I’m a little short on cash this month. I’m going to pay you X amount this month and I’ll catch up next month,”? Or even, “I’m going to be paying later this month than I normally do.”

Of course it would! Who am I to request civility from this majestic god? He is so far above me. He owes me nothing and I should be grateful for whatever scraps he throws my way.

He would never do such a thing because it’s much more fun to leave me hanging in the wind, wondering when, or if, he’s going to pay.

I think he loves the game playing. He thinks he’s got all the power when he controls the money. He was ordered to pay on the first. Ooh, let’s see if I can get a toe over the line. He asked if he could pay every other week. Let’s see if I can get the whole foot across the line. Once I okayed that request he promptly shit all over it and decided to pay the full monthly amount but to switch it up and pay four times a month instead. Then he bounced a check, promptly paid what was due and began sending me money electronically. The catch? He now has to send the spousal support in two separate payments, so his total support payment is paid in six installments. Ah, more power.

If you must absolutely know I was catching up on funeral expenses for my mother.

I don’t care if I sound like a total bitch. You pay me and then you worry about your mom’s funeral expenses. When Jezebel and Pastor Fake ask you to contribute to the cause you tell them what you can contribute after you’ve paid your support. You have a legal obligation to pay me support; you have no such legal obligation to pay for your mother’s funeral. Ask your whore to forego tanning or a trip to the nail salon or some fantastic event for her kid so that she can pay a little extra towards the household expenses.

I’m curious as well. #1- If Pastor Fake had all this money to loan you while you were milking a PTSD diagnosis, and you drained your 401k and used it to pay him back instead of helping to support your kids, where did all that money go? Why couldn’t Pastor Fake foot the bill on his own? #2- If you hid the bulk of what I was supposedly looking for then why can’t you pay for your mom’s funeral and pay your support obligation? I would think with all that money you claimed to have stashed away you wouldn’t have a problem with paying all your obligations.

Thank you for your condolences and those of the children as well.

My condolences? You didn’t even bother to inform me that she had died, you asshole! I wasn’t worthy of being notified. I was nothing. So take your request for condolences and shove them up your ass!

You made a good show of playing the victim for Rock Star with your, “I know you hate me but your grandmother loves you like crazy and she’s done nothing to you. You don’t even have to talk to me. I’ll just put the phone up to her ear and you can say something,”. Quite honestly though once time of death had been called I don’t think you ever bothered to tell her, and you certainly didn’t tell your son seeing as how you don’t have his number and can’t think of any way to get it. You also never bothered to inform them of the funeral arrangements. Was that to save yourself the hassle of trying to figure out which kids to bring- your real kids or your fake kids? It might have been awkward, huh? Playing the fucked up version of the Brady Bunch at their grandmother’s funeral. Although to be fair, you do seem to think that a funeral is the place for public unveiling of salacious relationships. It might have been the perfect time to introduce your kids to their replacements!

That’s my long roundabout way of telling you to fuck off with your victim morphing and trying to lay a guilt trip on my kids.

Another question: Why in the hell are you referring to them as “the children”? That sounds more like Harley writing your texts for you. Is she upset she doesn’t have all of your money to play with? Must be a letdown for her. She thought she was getting an additional $5000 per month and it’s more like $2000. Still, not bad for lying on your back.

Furthermore, let’s not pretend that my condolences would have been graciously accepted if they had been extended. You just wanted me to tell you how sorry I was so that you could ignore me and show me how insignificant I am in your life. Or so that you could have told me my condolences were neither needed or wanted.

You’re pissed that I ignored you and didn’t cater to your image of victim.

Do you still not understand that we are not friends? I don’t like you. I don’t like anything about you.

Your mother refused to cut Harley off after your first affair, continued to interact with her knowing the damage she had done to our marriage, and then encouraged her to call you which resulted in you two dipshits reigniting your affair and you planning to leave me. Can’t say I’m much of a fan of hers either.

I know; it’s very upsetting when someone dies and certain people refuse to put them up on a pedestal and canonize them as a saint. Whatever misdeeds occurred before death are supposed to be forgiven. How dare I not humble myself before you and your family, all of whom have treated me horribly and haven’t treated my kids much better?

Finally, let’s not pretend that if it had been my mom you would have been there front and center, offering up condolences and sending flowers. You couldn’t be bothered to accompany me to either of my grandmothers’ funerals, and that was when we were married. I don’t see you spending one single minute trying to comfort me now. Again, we’re not friends. I could easily argue that me not offering up condolences, and you keeping your mouth shut had it happened to me, was actually the kinder thing to do.

I wouldn’t want a birthday card or a Christmas newsletter or condolences from my rapist. I don’t want anything from you either. Much like how you told me you were doing me a favor by setting me free from the burden of being your wife, I did you a favor by not intruding on your grief with my unwanted and insincere condolences.

You’re welcome.

Beyond the Grave & Other Exciting Tales

I had a weird thing happen to me last week. It was either the day of Tammy Faye’s funeral or the day after. I was going through my old voicemail messages. I had something like 40 of them I hadn’t listened to so I figured I should clear some of them out. I came across a number I didn’t recognize. Curious, I played the message.

It was Tammy Faye. It was from February 16th, less than a month before she died. It was a pretty brief message: Sam, your number popped up on my phone. I was calling to see if everything was okay.

She sounded sick and frail.

Here’s the weird thing. I don’t have Tammy Faye’s number in my phone. I deleted it. Months, if not years, ago. There is no way I could have accidentally air dialed her. Believe me- my phone has a mind of its own! That is a very distinct possibility. My kids couldn’t have used my phone to call her unless they had her actual number. I even checked the call log to see if perhaps one of them did plug in her number on my phone for some reason. Nothing.

Ultimately it doesn’t really matter why my number popped up. I’m more freaked out about the fact she still had my number in her phone. Why?

Bob messaged me to let me know CF saw his condolence message but didn’t reply. What a surprise. He told me he hoped that some good could come of this some day. I don’t believe in fairy tales and am getting a little tired of his excuses for CF so I was a bit feisty when I replied:

What good could come of it? I’ve been left in poverty, depending on his support payments which he makes when he wants and just bounced a check. I live with my mom and sleep on the couch. My kids have lost their dad. They’ve lost having a mom who is home and available for them. Rock Star is screwed when it comes to paying for college. She missed out on graduating with her class from her original high school She hates it here and suffers from anxiety. Picasso seems to be okay but who knows. The only people prospering are Harley and her kids.

#truth

His response was that the only good that could come of it is that one day CF and the kids would once again have a familial relationship.

Bob, I love ya; I appreciate the support you’ve given me since this shit storm began, and I realize you consider CF a friend (even if he no longer considers you one), but you’re stupid. In what world can a father abandon his children, play Daddy of the Decade to kids who aren’t his, and the great equalizer will be him reconciling with his kids so that they, too, can eat his special blend of shit sundae?

I don’t think it has ever occurred to him that maybe reconciling with their deadbeat dad is NOT in their best interest. He hasn’t done a single thing to try to make things right with them. He continues to ask Rock Star to pass along messages to her brother because he doesn’t have his number. Hmmmm…. if only there was a way he could get that number. If only he knew someone that might actually have that number. This is his genius at work, ladies and gentlemen. Stymied by not having his son’s phone number which has never changed, and forced to ask his daughter to pass along the message.

He continues to begin every message with: I know you hate me but… Can the man be any more of a victim?

Maybe she needs to begin replying to these messages with: I know you’ve already replaced me with your whore’s kids but… Or, maybe: I know your whore will always be more important than me but…

I’m kidding, folks. Don’t bombard me with messages about how no contact is the best tactic. I know that. She doesn’t generally respond.

A few days later Bob contacted me again to ask if the kids had heard from CF since the funeral. Nope. I did tell him, however, about my message from beyond the grave. He told me it was too bad I didn’t get the message earlier because maybe I could have reached out and we could have cleared the air. In turn, I told him that honestly, even if I had received the message the day I got it I wouldn’t have called her because I had nothing to say to her.

Death brings out the sap in most people and I’m trying hard not to get sucked in. She chose her son and his whore and her four kids over her own flesh and blood. The twenty years I spent as part of her family meant nothing. I was quickly tossed aside and discarded. She was happily skipping off to funerals with her precious baby boy and his cunt face cum dumpster. She couldn’t gush over her enough. So, she got exactly what she wanted. Her son and his whore were there at her funeral. I’m sure the whore’s kids made an appearance as well. Have to keep up the image.

Rock Star and I had an interesting conversation about this as we drove to her latest cheer competition. She pretty much admitted that if they had ever apologized or tried to make things right with her she probably would have reconciled with them. They never did. There was never an apology, never an acknowledgement that any wrongdoing had taken place. Tammy Faye could post comments to her on Facebook but she couldn’t take the time to text her or call her and have an honest, one-on-one conversation with her.

She never bothered to call her or text her when Rock Star first found out about her dad and I getting a divorce, finding out her dad was having an affair. Rock Star had called her dad and demanded her grandmother be put on the phone because she didn’t believe him when he told her he was with his mom. Once Tammy Faye got on the phone she said she didn’t want to do this anymore and threw the phone down, hanging up on them. Not a word.

That was her chance to tell Rock Star she was sorry about what had happened, sorry for her part in it. That was her chance to act like she actually gave a shit about what was happening to her and her brother.

Where was she when we were forced out of our home? Where was she when Rock Star and Picasso were forced to leave behind their school and their friends yet again, thanks to their father? Where was she when Rock Star found out she couldn’t get her license and would have to have yet another learner’s permit for 6 more months? Where was she all those months when Rock Star was hating life and feeling like a nobody thanks to the move forced upon her by her dad? Where was she when Rock Star was dealing with anxiety?

I’ll tell you where she was. She was up her son’s ass, gazing at him adoringly, and gushing over his whore, telling her how pretty she was.

My mother looked up her obituary. Curiosity meets the cat. It said she had four kids. Understandable, I suppose. They included her two stepsons whom she had helped raise. CF and Harley were listed together. Naturally. And then it listed her as having 18 grandchildren.

I have no idea where they came up with that number. Jezebel has two kids plus her two step kids. That makes 4. Her oldest stepson has 5 kids; the youngest has 2. That brings the total up to 11 and leaves only her son. He has 2 children which brings the number up to 13. Even counting Harley’s kids that only brings it up to 17. Maybe somebody has a kid that I’m not aware of. Nonetheless I find it appalling that those idiots could actually list Harley the Whore’s four kids as her grandkids. She’s been “granny” to them for a whole whopping two years and almost all of that time has been while he was married to me. At the very least take my two kids off the list. She chose Harley’s brood over my two.

I know. I can’t control what goes in her obituary. It’s also over and done with now. Plus, the very wise advice: No contact is the path to enlightenment. So very true.

It just goes to show you what a dog and pony show death and funerals are. Everyone is celebrating her as this wonderful person who loved everybody and was so sweet. The reality is she had no problem with her daughter cheating on her husband. Either of them. She had no problem with her son cheating on his wife of 20 years; in fact, she encouraged it. I guess she just didn’t correctly anticipate the reaction of my children. Unfortunately for her our memories are long and are not softened by death.

In Memoriam

Tammy Faye died last night. Bob let me know. He was appalled that no one had bothered to tell me. I had to remind him that I don’t count. I never counted. I was simply an appendage hanging off of CF. “But there are rules of decency!” he cried. Sadly, Bob does not get it.

Rock Star’s dad did text her to let her know that her grandmother had coded earlier in the day and that the doctor’s were saying it was just a matter of time. That’s what Bob told me anyway, and when I told my kids my daughter informed me that she already knew all of that. I’m assuming her dad told her the same thing that Bob told me.

Neither of my kids seem too broken up over it. I thought maybe since this was death, it was permanent, they might have some remorse. I thought that since there would be no do-overs and no second chance to try to set things straight they might be a little teary eyed. Instead, Picasso told me that he might have been sad at one point but since she “decided to back young CF” he wasn’t. Rock Star reiterated that actions have consequences and you don’t get to play the victim all your life. She made reference to the fact that her grandmother had helped her father leave her.

I won’t continue to push or get them to talk about it. They both seem to have made their peace with it. It’s a precarious spot to be in.

On one hand I don’t want people to think I’m letting them swing wildly in the wind with no guidance and no care for their mental health. On the other hand if they really are at peace with it me demanding they talk about it and feel something they don’t isn’t going to do them any good.

I did tell Rock Star that if her dad started guilting her to pass the texts along to me and I would handle it.

As for me I find it to be an almost out of body experience. For one, I never expected her to die. I have heard for years that she didn’t have much time left. Years. And yet every year there she was. It got to the point I figured it was CF playing the drama card. So first hearing that she had been admitted to the hospital, had coded and wasn’t expected to make it was startling. Then to get the news less than an hour later that she had died… I didn’t know what to feel.

I shouldn’t feel anything. This woman knew her son had cheated on me and continued to interact with the other woman, whining that she was family. When my husband was so sad and upset she urged his former whore to call him and rekindle things. She sat in my kitchen in April and told me she wanted us to get back to where we were, that she loved me and I had been her daughter-in-law for twenty years. She let me and the kids spend the night on our way back home from Utah when he was already involved with Harley; I know she had to have known at that point and yet she let us stay and kissed us and told us she loved us. We went out to eat and I hugged and kissed on the new baby and believed that things were getting back to normal. And all the while he was giving the whore money and making plans to be with her. She supported him leaving me and leaving his damn kids behind. She showed up to a funeral with CF and Harley, never pausing for a single moment to think that that situation was all kinds of fucked up. I know how she was when it came to her son; I don’t believe she ever spoke up and told him to make amends with his kids. I know she never told him he was wrong or that she didn’t support what he was doing. How could she? She encouraged it.

And yet I have twinges of sympathy for her when I think of the Christmas cards she sent both kids this year. My mother always likes to point out she could have come and seen them but she chose not to. She could have called or texted, but she chose not to. I, however, almost feel sorry for her and see the woman who wistfully told Picasso she would love to see him again. The woman who asked Rock Star how she was liking her senior year and told her she loved her and wanted so much to talk to her.

There is a part of me that remembers the woman I knew years ago. The woman who called to talk to me when CF let her know he was getting married, and ended up talking for over an hour. We would call each other and talk for an hour or more all the time. He used to joke that I talked to her more than he did. I remember feeling so lucky that I loved my in-laws and that we all got along so well. I remember the woman who said that she loved me and would tell me that she couldn’t have picked a better daughter-in-law if she had picked one out herself. I remember the woman who was so happy and accommodating at our wedding, who spoiled us with gifts and money. I remember the woman who loved my kids. I remember many trips to Kentucky to see her and the rest of the family, and how I would say that I could see us moving there and being around family.

I realize that person ceased to exist years ago. I’m sad about that. I’m also a little sad and maybe a little frustrated that, even though the possibility of it happening was remote, I will never have the chance to confront her. She will never see the damage she did. She will never get to witness the fallout of CF’s and Harley’s joyous union.

In those early days when the pain and humiliation were fresh I envisioned myself having a chance to spit out, “You traded your own flesh and blood for a whore and her four kids. Every time you look around your table at the holidays and see that my kids are missing you just tell yourself that Harley and her kids were worth losing them. And know that when you die your own two grandkids won’t be at your funeral. I hope Harley’s four are there crying for you, because my two won’t be.” I probably never would have said that given the chance. Sadly, what I fantasized about saying is now a reality.

Also sad? I’m sure I’ll be blamed for it. The story will be that CF’s kids weren’t allowed to come to the funeral; their mean, awful mom prevented it. I know it doesn’t matter. I don’t know most of those people. But who really likes having lies about them out there, especially when those lies make you look like a monster?

I worry, too, that with my kids not going that will be the so called final straw. I know his family has pretty much written them off anyway but at least in public they act like they are torn up about it. I hope there isn’t actual backlash against either of them because they chose not to attend. I’m sure in their grief all they can think about is how Rock Star and Picasso didn’t even care enough to show up for her funeral. They will completely sidestep the fact that none of them has cared at all about what they’ve gone through these last 2 1/2 years.

In the end none of you need to worry that I’m going out of my mind with grief for Tammy Faye. As my kids would say, she chose her path. It does make me a little sad to think of how things once were and to see where they ended. I’m sorry it ended this way with her estranged from her grandchildren. Yet on some level I know that I’m more regretful about it than they are.

An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 3

I wish I could tell you this is the end but it’s not. I told you I had a lot to say!

Sam, let’s try to figure out a way to make this less stressful for all involved. I am saddened that you felt compelled to toss out all of my memories and my clothing.  There are so few of them in this house.  In spite of all that has happened we have a history and that cannot be erased no matter how badly you want it to go away.  So you have a choice.  You can be bitter and hateful toward me, or respect the fact that I am setting you free of the burden of being my wife.  I know you will take a hit financially but you will be well provided for, we both know that.  My attorney has you covered for the rest of your life.

So stop all of this foolishness.  Let our children know I love them and let’s act like adults and come to a healthy relationship apart from all of this.  I respect you as a mother and you have followed me around the country and I am grateful to you for that.  Let’s build a future relationship that we can both be happy for each other and our children and show them that happiness and being whole are vital to a person’s future.  I read everything you wrote on your fake Facebook page.  I know you have been very unhappy.  It’s evident in what you wrote and your depression has heightened in the past two years.  I know you will be whole without me, we aren’t good together.  So all that said I want you and I to work on this.  To be grown up about it for the sake of our children.

How dare you try to portray me as some depressed, pathetic individual! I don’t suffer from depression and it certainly hasn’t “worsened” over the last two years. No, I did not forget about your affair with your cousin the minute you said, “Oops, my bad!”  And yes, sometimes I would be triggered by events and it would make me sad.  For a day or two.  Then I would get over it and get on with my life. Yes, it has been difficult transitioning to life here but I’ve done it; I’m sorry I didn’t do it as quickly as you would have liked. You insisted that if you had to stay where we were much longer you would end up in a psych ward so we all sacrificed and gave up our lives there so that YOU would be happy.

Our daughter gave up her dream of competing gymnastics in college. She gave up her teammates and gymnastics.  She was just saying the other day, “Imagine how good I would be now if we had stayed.”  And when asked if she would rather have her life as a gymnast or the life she has here with cheerleading and high school gymnastics and her friends and boyfriend and great social life, she still, without hesitation, picked being a Level 10 gymnast. YOU took that away from her for your own selfish wants and desires.  YOU took that away from her so you could go have sex with your cousin.

And our son? Our son gave up hockey and cello.  He still talks about playing hockey again some day, still talks about how much he loved played the cello.  He likes playing the trombone (would have preferred to play the saxophone but I didn’t know what our money situation would be like and the trombone was cheaper than the sax) but he loved the cello.  And while he likes his two neighborhood friends he doesn’t really like his school and thinks most of his classmates are rednecks.

We all gave up all of our friends.  For YOU.  As for myself, I not only gave up all of my friends but also my support system.  See, when you have a husband who doesn’t think that raising the children is part of his responsibility it helps to have a great network of friends who can pitch in and help out at times.  People who can carpool with you.  People that you can call in a pinch and ask them for a favor.  It would be really nice to have all of those people around me now, now that you’ve left me for the same woman you cheated on me with two years ago. I loved my life in Utah.  I loved being active in PTA and would have volunteered to be the Associate Director of the region, if we didn’t move.  I loved my Bunko group. I loved volunteering at the schools and being involved, knowing people and what was going on.  I don’t have that here.  I gave it up for you and for your happiness.  I gave it up for our future. Our bogus future that you had no intention of honoring.

Once we got here you were no happier than you had been before. You told me you wanted to be the most important person in my life and once we moved and I had no one else you started to pull away. You constantly told other people you were convinced I was going to leave you when I would have never done that; I was committed to you, to our marriage, to our family.  You told your sister I wrote on my fake Facebook page (when you were almost “dying”) that you were annoying me and wasting my time.  THAT NEVER HAPPENED!  I double checked because I was appalled that I could actually say something like that.  I never wrote anything like that.

And as far as you dying?  Honey, they don’t give you the option of going to the ER if you’re near death.  And they don’t tell you you can be admitted or go home if you’re near death.

You know how you know it’s serious?  When they tell you you’re not leaving their office until you’ve either scheduled surgery to remove the ectopic pregnancy or been given a methotrexate shot to dissolve the ectopic pregnancy.  Of course, you wouldn’t know that because your response when I told you was that you couldn’t leave work.

I went through treatment for an ectopic pregnancy ON MY OWN and you whine because I called the doctor, made your appointment, took you to the ER, sat with you for hours, and encouraged you to let them admit you but apparently wasn’t, what, sympathetic enough?  At least I was there which is more than I can say for you.

And finally, yes, I was on Prozac briefly because I was finding it difficult to deal with all of YOUR issues: your refusal to get help, your withdrawal from me and your kids, your supposed PTSD and anxiety, your lies to everyone about me, dealing with the fact that you consistently turned to people who encouraged you to leave me, and your non-stop drinking. And yet I still hung in there, determined to stand by and help you.

I did everything I could and I never shied away from my own faults.  I immediately took responsibility for my part in the void between us the first time you confessed.  I NEVER placed all the blame on you.  Even though I should have.  Because you see, no one makes another person cheat.  That’s a decision YOU made- all on your own.

I did all the things you wanted me to do, all the things you said you felt were lacking. You wanted me to text you constantly so I texted constantly.  You wanted me to tell you every mundane thing that I did, so I told you about every mundane thing I did. You wanted to know where I was all day long so I updated you all the time. I sat outside on the porch and watched you while you did yard work and brought you something to drink when you would mow the lawn because you said that’s something you wanted me to do.  I twisted myself into a pretzel trying to be everything you wanted!

As soon as I found out you knew about the other Facebook page I shut it down so as not to hurt you any further. When your mom asked if I had ever told you I forgave you I told her I had never said those exact words but I had told you I was committed to us and I put all my trust in you and moved across the country a mere 6 hours from your mistress.  Then when I went to visit you in the psych ward I took your face in my hands and told you I loved you, I forgave you, I wasn’t going to leave you and we would get through all of this together.  And what did you do?  You started up another affair with your cousin after upending our lives.  All because you got your feelings hurt over a stupid Facebook page.

 

An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 2

Welcome to Part 2 of the never-ending letter to CF in response to his vomit worthy text.

Sam, let’s try to figure out a way to make this less stressful for all involved. I am saddened that you felt compelled to toss out all of my memories and my clothing.  There are so few of them in this house.  In spite of all that has happened we have a history and that cannot be erased no matter how badly you want it to go away.  So you have a choice.  You can be bitter and hateful toward me, or respect the fact that I am setting you free of the burden of being my wife.  I know you will take a hit financially but you will be well provided for, we both know that.  My attorney has you covered for the rest of your life.

So stop all of this foolishness.  Let our children know I love them and let’s act like adults and come to a healthy relationship apart from all of this.  I respect you as a mother and you have followed me around the country and I am grateful to you for that.  Let’s build a future relationship that we can both be happy for each other and our children and show them that happiness and being whole are vital to a person’s future.  I read everything you wrote on your fake Facebook page.  I know you have been very unhappy.  It’s evident in what you wrote and your depression has heightened in the past two years.  I know you will be whole without me, we aren’t good together.  So all that said I want you and I to work on this.  To be grown up about it for the sake of our children.

You want to talk about my Facebook page?  Let’s talk about it!  I used that page as my own personal blog.  There were no friends on it and I used a fake name.  You didn’t want to talk about what you had done.  It “stressed” you.  You couldn’t handle it.  So I went off and I dealt with it on my own.

You say you read everything but you obviously didn’t or you simply ignored anything positive.  Maybe 10% of what was on there was about us and not even all of that was negative. You ignored the bone analogy where I talked about how a broken bone is actually stronger once it has healed and how I could get behind that.  You missed the long post where I talked about how your affair would be nothing more than a bump in the road on our 50th wedding anniversary.

There were casual updates.  Many times I said we were doing great and things were fantastic. There was the song that I said reminded me of us now.  There was the picture of the hearts you drew on my van. All good things. Hell, I even read one where I said:  This is where I go to vent so I feel bad only talking about the negative.  Things are actually great.

The vast majority of it was keeping an eye on your paramour, which it turns out I was right for doing because first chance you got you started up with her again!

The other large part of it was processing the feelings of betrayal I felt when no one in your family would cut ties with her despite her being the other woman since she was family and all.

You think that entitles you to have another affair with the same woman?  Unbelievable!

Hey, here’s an idea.  Instead of turning to people who you were always whining to me about maybe you should have talked to me!  Maybe you could have read that and thought to yourself, “Hey, maybe I should step it up and let my wife know how sorry I am, how much I love her, and then give her all the time she needs to completely heal from the betrayal I threw at her.”  Or even taken some of the things I said and actually done them, like defending me, or not throwing me under the bus!

But no!  Your solution was to go crying to anyone who would listen, “Oh, Sam is soooooo mean!  I had an affair with my cousin and she hasn’t forgotten about it!”  And everyone around you said, “Oh, poor Cousinfucker!  She’s horrible!  You should leave her!  Your happiness is the only thing that’s important.  Don’t worry about her, the woman who has stood by your side for the last 20 years.  Don’t worry about your kids.  As long as you’re happy they’ll be ok.  Just focus on your own happiness because you are the only person who matters!” Then again you’re so busy playing the victim that the idea you may have contributed to this is completely foreign.

I was asked to forgive your affair, uproot my life and my kids’ lives, move 2000 miles across the country, move closer to your mistress, and start all over in a town I knew we were only going to because of your affair with her all in the span of a year. Instead of telling you something you didn’t want to hear because it caused so much “anxiety” for you I handled it on my own.  And for that I’m vilified and you use it to justify having yet another affair with her.  You demanded that I forgive and forget because you didn’t want to face what you had done; you didn’t want to be reminded of it.  You didn’t want to have to do anything that was difficult. It’s unfortunate that you couldn’t handle the fact that I would *occasionally* be triggered by something.  It’s too bad you couldn’t accept the fact that having everyone in your family fawning over your mistress was distressful for me.  Turns out I was right for being distressed seeing as how it was your mother who encouraged her to call you again.

And you know what the funniest part of all this is?  I was completely over it finally!  Probably around April or May.  I didn’t want to be reminded of it or her.  Isn’t that funny?  Just as I feel completely healed from your first betrayal you start messing around with her again.  Although, according to her, I was never your first choice and you only stayed because you “couldn’t liquidate your assets quickly enough.”

I’m curious.  Was that a lie you told her or is that the lie she tells everyone to justify hopping into bed with you after you dumped her?  We both know it only takes about 24 hours to “liquidate” any assets you might have had.  And you might want to let the little whore know it doesn’t matter how “quickly you liquidate your assets” you still have to hand over 50%.  But I get it; the other story sounds better.

Stay tuned! There’s more to come!

 

An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 1

January 2016

I wrote this shortly after I received the famous text from CF.  I never sent it.  It got to be way too long; I essentially vomited up twenty plus years of rage and frustration and I figure if I was lucky he might read two or three sentences.  Nonetheless, I’m quite proud of it and I thought I would share.  Most of this is undoubtedly a repeat of things I’ve already shared.  There’s only so much that happened in the beginning and since I don’t speak to him if I can help it I don’t get a lot of new material.  Anyway, here it is.  Enjoy!

Sam, let’s try to figure out a way to make this less stressful for all involved. I am saddened that you felt compelled to toss out all of my memories and my clothing.  There are so few of them in this house.  In spite of all that has happened we have a history and that cannot be erased no matter how badly you want it to go away.  So you have a choice.  You can be bitter and hateful toward me, or respect the fact that I am setting you free of the burden of being my wife.  I know you will take a hit financially but you will be well provided for, we both know that.  My attorney has you covered for the rest of your life.

So stop all of this foolishness.  Let our children know I love them and let’s act like adults and come to a healthy relationship apart from all of this.  I respect you as a mother and you have followed me around the country and I am grateful to you for that.  Let’s build a future relationship that we can both be happy for each other and our children and show them that happiness and being whole are vital to a person’s future.  I read everything you wrote on your fake Facebook page.  I know you have been very unhappy.  It’s evident in what you wrote and your depression has heightened in the past two years.  I know you will be whole without me, we aren’t good together.  So all that said I want you and I to work on this.  To be grown up about it for the sake of our children.

I am not even sure where to begin with your long rambling text so I suppose I’ll begin with the obvious.  I’m not sure who you wrote that for but it wasn’t for my benefit.  Quite frankly, I’m not even sure you wrote it yourself. Secondly, you are not a victim so it would be refreshing if you could stop acting like one.  You are also not a hero so please stop acting like you’ve somehow done me a favor by cheating on me.  Again.

Do not patronize me with your “Let’s stop this foolishness and figure out a way to make this less stressful.”  Do you know how you could have made this less stressful?  You could have refrained from having sex with your cousin while you were married to me.  You could have refrained from having sex with your cousin while your children and I were on what was supposed to be a family vacation, a vacation (and family) you blew off so you could have sex with your cousin.  You could have refrained from moving me and your children 2000 miles across the country, uprooting our lives for *your* happiness, only to turn around and start up yet another affair with your cousin.  You could have been an adult and talked to me instead of turning to people who have never been there for you during your many crises.  You could have refrained from siphoning off thousands of dollars to your mistress while you lied about it and fed me a line of bullshit about it being for your mom.  You could have stood up and tried to act like a man instead of trying to convince yourself and everyone around you that you’re some hapless victim.  And as far as making this less stressful for everyone… what on earth about this is stressing you out?  You do whatever you want!  You live here during the week not caring whether there is enough in the bank account to pay bills or not, and then you take off every weekend to be with your mistress and her kids, spending money like it’s growing on trees and having yourself a fine time.

I have spent the last 2 years walking a tightrope for you, protecting you and being respectful of all your “issues”. I hid your affair from everyone in my family.  I let you get away with directing how I was allowed to heal.  I was even at the point where I was accepting the fact that your mom was going to continue to have a relationship with your mistress.  And what have you done?  You’ve thrown me under the bus time after time.  Not only that but you’ve actually had the audacity to act like you were somehow protecting me while throwing me under the bus! Half the time (if not more than half) you’ve told outright lies about me. Let’s not forget the biggie- you started screwing your cousin!  I don’t know why I continue to be amazed at how you can cheat on me, not once but twice (and with the same “woman” no less!) and yet still manage to act like you are the injured party.

To be continued…

 

Once a Cheater…

December 2015

I got the most delightful news last night.  Well, I got some not so delightful news, too, but the good news put me in a wonderful mood.

The Saint contacted me to tell me that he overheard Harley talking to one of Zack’s friends about how he had shown her naked pictures of me.  Nice!  What kind of sick fuck shows naked pictures of his wife to his affair partner?  And what kind of sick fuck wants to see them?  That was the not so delightful news.  I did march into his room and demand that he delete them.  He supposedly did but we’ll see.  If I hear of anymore I’ll be contacting my lawyer.

But the delightful part was what he told me later on.  THEY ARE STILL HAVING SEX!  Oh, the glorious karma bus is headed straight towards those two fucktards!  Later that evening he said he overheard her on the phone with CF, denying she had slept with her husband.  But he claims to have text messages.  He says they’ve only had sex a couple of times and a couple more times he wouldn’t.  One time was right after CF left.  He also said that the neighbor she was sending naked pictures to was mad at her after finding out about Zack but now they’re friends again.  Which probably means she’s sending him naked pictures again.

I find this to be hilarious!  Oh, definitely sad for Cousinfucker but who gives a fuck about him?  He threw away a 20+ year marriage, has destroyed his relationship with his kids, and is going to be paying for this for the rest of his life all for a whore who is already cheating on him and her four kids who use him for what he’ll buy them and then talk shit about him behind his back.

I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he tells his mommy and his sister how she’s cheating on him.  Great job, Tammy Faye!  You encouraged a predator to call your son.  They both ended up destroying his home and even your relationship with your grandkids and how does she repay you for your “tip” to her?  She destroys your son.  Oh, and Jezebel, you with your, “You should do whatever makes you happy.  You deserve so much better than Sam.  I’m sorry she makes you so miserable.”  Hey, bitch, at least I never cheated on him.  I didn’t make him give up everything for me only to spread my legs for yet another guy.  She’s cheating on him not even 6 months into it!  He’s being Jolly Zack right now!  He’s spending money on her and giving her everything she wants.  He’s always in a good mood for her.  And she’s still cheating!  Just wait until she gets the real Zack- the one who is moody and weepy and who turns every minor problem into a major event.  The one who sits upstairs in his bedroom, watching tv all weekend while leaving her to deal with her kids.  Good Lord, she’ll have to put one of those revolving doors in her house to deal with her various lovers.

I’m not sure why he was questioning her fidelity.  While I did ask The Saint if I could tell him that they were having sex I didn’t.  I know it wouldn’t do any good.  He has way too much invested in this to believe me.  Although, a text message where they are discussing it would definitely be proof!

Nah, I hope the dumb sonofabitch moves to be closer, gets another job where he’s miserable, can’t afford anything after he pays his spousal and child support, marries the whore and THEN finds out about all of her transgressions.

I haven’t felt this good in ages!

 

Present Day Sam Says: I’m not sure he knows to this day that good ol’ Harley was still sleeping with her husband. I know she denied it but I’m not sure if he ever figured out she was lying. Don’t know if he ever realized she was sending “inappropriate” pictures to her neighbor either. He’s in way too deep now for him to extricate himself. He needs that cunt face cum dumpster. Oh karma, you can be a bitch…