Hurt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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…

 

2015 Wrap Up

December 2015

Apparently my dumbass didn’t go to work yesterday either.  Now I’m beginning to wonder if he brought the whore up to our current state with him for these four days and he’s leaving the car with her.  I don’t know why he would since she doesn’t know her way around.  Kind of bizarre to think she’d drive him to work and then take the car on home.  It’s tempting to have someone go ring the doorbell and see if he answers the door or if she does.  Anyway….

I’ve decided to do my 2015 wrap up today instead of waiting until tomorrow.

As you might imagine 2015 has SUCKED!  I am seriously wracking my brain to think of a year that has sucked more than this one.  I think my senior year of high school might be a close second but that actually occurred over two years.  And I was a hell of a lot younger and able to absorb the blows.

So let’s start at the beginning.  2015 began with my loving husband starting his downward spiral.  Lots of drinking.  Lots of crying.  Lots of “PTSD” symptoms.  Thank you, American Sniper.  You gave him a narrative.  He ended up hospitalized towards the end of the month due to some sort of a bug.  That was the infamous, “She was making fun of me when I was DYING!” episode, despite the fact that I had never done any such thing and had instead sat by his side and kissed his ass as usual.  Apparently I didn’t grovel well enough.

The following month he ramped up the crazy, with lots of texts to his manipulative sister and probably his jackass “best friend”, frequent visits from the pastor of a church we had attended ONE time, still much drinking and crying, and then SURPRISE!!!! let’s add in a visit to the psych ward after suicidal ideations.  I got to spend HOURS in an empty ER room with him (because they remove EVERYTHING from the room when a person is suicidal) while trying to coordinate care of my two kids who were at school at this time.  Then I would drive to the hospital every day for the two hours of visitation that were allowed each day.  I brought him magazines and books and gum; I advocated for him.  I called him each day.  MY family all came to visit while his family (with the exception of one sister) all called him from the comfort of their own homes.  Incidentally, his family all live a minimum of 4 hours closer to us than my family does.  My mother drove 13 hours to come see him- at his request!  Why?  Because my family was more of a family to him than his own.  Of course it was, asshole; that’s why when Harley reappeared you turned to your own morally bankrupt family.

He came home and there weren’t many changes made.  He continued to hang out upstairs in the bedroom.  Refused to hang out with us in any of the main areas of the house.  Hell, I can recall asking him if he wanted to sit out on the enclosed porch with me and he shook his head, telling me he felt more comfortable upstairs in the bedroom.

March and April there was more of the same.  The migraines started back up again in late March/early April.  That’s a fun 2 week period where he’s basically bed ridden with a succession of migraines.  I’m taking him to the doctor’s for medication, trying to keep everything quiet and calm for him so he can sleep.  Once those are finally done he continues to have breakdowns.  Like, need to leave the restaurant, crying in public, breakdowns.  All of which his kids think he faked for sympathy and to justify why he did what he ended up doing.

His best friend showed up in April.  I think this is probably the time my dear, traitorous MIL encouraged Harley to call and offer him a blow job.  Oh, I’m sorry- encouraged her to call him to “cheer him up” since he was “so sad”.

My own state of mind at this time was not good.  I was still trying to adjust to this move.  I cried a lot.  Hell, I even taped messages for my friends and family to be played for them after my body was found.  THAT’S how desperate I was at that point.  I even said I thought he was messing around with her again.  Of course, the money didn’t start disappearing until June but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t begin up again sooner.  It may have taken him a few weeks before he decided to support his whore.  I was beginning to give up on just about everything.  I had written I was done with decorating and I was going to cancel the pool.

But I persevered, something Cousinfucker couldn’t do.  I signed the contract; I kept decorating.  I continued to deal with all the shit he shoveled my way, putting up with his moods, his anxiety, his breakdowns.  I made his damn appointments for him and went along with him.  I STILL found instances of him throwing me under the bus and it would infuriate me.  Accusing me of only staying for the money.  Of never checking on him.  Of hating him.  Of me leaving him alone to cry in the bedroom.  Poor, poor sad sausage.  Get your story out there, baby.  Let everyone know how mistreated and abused you are.

May passed with construction on the pool finally beginning.  Probably one of the few bright spots in the year.  That’s also the month he brought up purchasing phones for his “mom and stepdad”.  So generous of him.

Most of June the kids and I were gone visiting family and friends.  He was definitely fucking around with Harley then.  And lying to my face about what he was doing. He opted out of celebrating Rock Star’s birthday with her because “he didn’t want to ruin it for her”.  Yeah, right.  June was a fairly decent month for me, though.  I was happy to see family and watch as Queen B graduated and be able to celebrate that with her.  I was happy to get back to my former state and see all of our friends, go to some of our favorite places like the reservoir and the varied restaurants we no longer got to frequent.  I stayed in pretty constant contact with my philandering asshole.  I sent text messages.  I occasionally called.  I would send pictures if I went shopping and was going to buy something.  Oh, he was so complimentary.  Telling me I looked so good, so sexy.  He’s such a liar.

We got back home right before July.  Again, he opted out of the birthday dinner for Picasso.  Nice.  I seem to recall a lot of sex, or at least messing around, before he decided he just didn’t think he could ever get it up again and he didn’t want me to try because he didn’t want confirmation of it.  Nicely done, Asshole!  I’m still not sure Harley was on board with you messing around with me twice a day, though.

Of course, he declined to go on our family vacation with us.  Too stressful.  And then he drove to his “business meeting” after being coached by me and his therapist (fucking asshole- him, not the therapist) and onward to his home state where he definitely hooked up with Harley and fucked the whore.  When we got back from Florida and he got back from Kentucky he had plainly changed.  I didn’t know what the hell was going on.  Then there was the added bonus that he suddenly began making trips, spreading his wings.  There was the funeral he refused to take his daughter to.  His trip to visit “Blockhead”.  All lies.  All continued while he spent the summer funneling thousands of dollars to that whore.

Finally, August arrives.  The pool is completed.  Six days later I’m told my husband is fucking Harley.  My world imploded.

I’ve spent the rest of the year taking care of my two kids, putting together evidence for my lawyer, being the responsible one while he acts like he’s single and child free.  I get the fun part of worrying about what the hell I’m going to do for money, what I’m going to do for insurance and how I’m going to afford it.  I get to worry about selling the house and fixing it up.  I get to worry about what I’m going to do with our 3 dogs and 3 cats.  I’m the one that gets to worry about trying to relocate and keep Rock Star where she is and then move once she graduates.  Basically, I get all the responsibilities and he gets to walk away and pretend like we never existed.  He gets a fresh start with no obligations, only a shiny little whore spreading her legs wide with four whining kids, blandly worshiping him so that he’ll buy them things.

I’m eager to put 2015 behind me but I fear 2016 won’t be much better.  My lawyer tells me he doesn’t think we’ll be done with the divorce until September or October, so most of the year will be spent trying to untangle our lives while not getting fucked up the ass by him.  He pulled the wool over my lawyer’s eyes this go round.  While he will be charged rent if he continues to live at the house it’s nothing compared to what he would have to pay once he’s out on his own.  $750 flat.  It’s doubtful he would be able to find that on his own.  My family is taking bets on whether or not he will move out.  My mom thinks he’s going to amp up his efforts to try to find a job closer to Harley.  My lawyer had damn well better be accurate when he says he will have already established a level of income once this order goes into action.  I would hate to see him quit his job before he gets this year’s bonus and then he gets out of paying me.  Wouldn’t put it past him though.

You know, it gets tricky, though, because Harley is expecting a certain standard of living.  If he quits his job and takes something that pays less that won’t bode well for his relationship with her.  Same thing with going to jail.  That will put a damper on the relationship.

Present Day Sam Says: Yeah, 2016 was no picnic either. I started off okay. Then I found out in February that CF quit his job and moved in with the whore. I still find it amazing that he drove 2 hours each way to work. I rebounded. And then got knocked down yet again when he texted me to let me know he had lost his job and wouldn’t be sending me anymore money. We were faced with the choice of trying to stay put and probably being evicted midway through Rock Star’s junior year, or biting the bullet and moving right then. I sold off whatever I could and left behind most of my possessions and moved 600 miles away, in with my mom.  I ran out of money.  I began working at Target, going in at 4 in the morning. A month later I got a second job at Kohl’s because my first job didn’t pay enough. I cried pretty much every day. My life was nothing more than working, sleeping and trying to get my kids where they needed to be. No joy. No hope.

The holidays sucked. Worst holiday season ever. I had to go in at midnight on Friday after Thanksgiving. I went in at 3 or 4 (probably 3) on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day was my first day off in 21 days.

My kids were forced to start all over. My son took to life in Indiana right away- had a great group of friends, liked his school (at least at first), liked living with his Nana. My daughter hated it here; I’m pretty sure she still does. The one bright spot in her life for months was her job. Gradually she spread her wings- first by getting on the winter cheer team, and then going out for track and loving it.

The one bright spot for me that year was getting hired on full time at the bank. It wasn’t going to pay me much but it was a full time job finally. I wouldn’t start until 2017 but I still counted it as one good thing that happened to me in 2016.

Now it’s almost 2 years later and things are a lot different. You’ll have to wait until later in the month before I finish my wrap up for 2017.

 

The First Anniversary After Filing For Divorce

December 2015

I didn’t have the heart to write yesterday although I looked fantastic!  Seriously- got my hair done, did my makeup, dressed up, wore some kickass boots.  I ended up taking the kids to Olive Garden up in, of all places, Whore Town.  Yes, I spent what should have been my anniversary dinner up in Whore Town, My State.  I figure the kids were the best part of the marriage so why not celebrate with them.

Rock Star did end up getting me a gift.  She bought me flowers and candy and a gift certificate to the nail salon.  I’ll have to tell her she doesn’t need to keep recognizing the date.  It’s insignificant anymore.

There were a few tears but overall I think this year’s anniversary was better than the last two.  The last two were spent trying to convince myself that the marriage wasn’t a sham.  This year I didn’t need to keep up with the charade.

I talked to his sister, not Jezebel, today.  Well, texted anyway.  She said he is in shock over the amount I’m getting.  I’m not sure why.  It isn’t that much different from what he’s already paying.  It is definitely more than he wanted to pay, though.  And hey, if he doesn’t move out by February 1st then I’ll get an extra $750.  I almost hope he stays!

 

Trying to Make Sure Life Goes On

November 2015

Thanksgiving decorations are up.  Halloween decorations are down.  The kids and I carved pumpkins all on our own and I think they looked great.  Picasso went as Foxy and Rock Star and her friend went as tacky tourists.

Today is the docket hearing so we should have a date soon.  I gave my lawyer my list of requests along with a letter as to why I think he should take on all debt and all of his various pay stubs to show his income.  If Cousinfucker agrees to give me what I want on my list the judge can sign it and we don’t have to wait for a date.  Yippee!  However, I don’t think that’s the way it’s going to play out.  He’s had a pretty good run of it so far.  He gives me what he thinks he’s going to have to pay me and then I turn around and have to pay all the bills with that money.  He still lives at the house, however, and pays nothing towards the mortgage, utilities, car insurance, phones, or marital debt.  Then he takes all of his money and he runs with it.  I’m sure his white trash whore is loving it because he can spend big bucks on her.  I’m equally sure he has big plans for that bonus check he gets at the end of January.  So, when he finds out he has to pay a minimum of $2k more than he was thinking he was going to have to pay, he’s going to flip his lid!  And then to have to pay marital debt on top of that!  He is not going to be happy.

I’m doing ok for now.  Occasionally things will pop into my head and I’ll get down.  There are some days it seems like everything hurts.  I was watching Grey’s Anatomy with Rock Star today and just seeing the love story between Meredith and Derek was a stab in the heart.  Seems like everyone is paired up and in love.  I’m pretty convinced that is never going to happen for me again.  I think you’re either one of those people who continuously gets involved with someone immediately or you’re one of those who never recommits.  I am positive that’s going to be me despite all my positive thinking.

Watching tv is usually painful.  Mundane crap, like watching Mike and Frankie on The Middle.  Just regular bullshit stuff, and knowing that I’m not going to have that regular bullshit stuff.  I’m not going to celebrate either of my kid’s graduations with their father. With continued luck I won’t have to share my grandchildren with him and won’t have to see him at their birthday parties.

I celebrated 20 years with the worst mistake of my life and I know in my heart I won’t spend 20 years with anyone else, much less the love of my life.  I feel like my life is over.  Not over like I’m only a few years away from death, but over in the sense that I don’t have much time to get shit together.  A job?  Oh yeah, I’d love to work a minimum wage job with no benefits and then eat dog food once I can no longer work.  I don’t feel like I have enough time to turn things around and I’ll just be a big burden to everyone in my path.  Then I read about people who have left their cheating husbands at 50 and 60 and 70.  I don’t know if they always worked or not.  I’m sure that helps.  I also think that if Cousinfucker can find someone else then surely I can!  I mean, between the two of us I am definitely the better catch.  He makes more money but he’s got issues up the ass, not to mention no hair and bad teeth.  I’m still attractive, I guess.  So why am I the one who remains alone?  Because the world is fucking unfair!  That’s why!

Writing seems to be difficult these days.  I don’t know how on earth I think I’m going to manage to write a blog.  I can barely type out what I’ve been doing lately, much less type out something meaningful and profound.  Plus, I’ve got tons of screenshots I need to put in my Chump Lady journal.  Like, over 100.  I swear, sometimes I read something that one of the other people comments on and I’m like, “Do they know my husband?”  Sometimes it’s just that it’s such a relief to know that I’m not crazy and that his behavior is bad!  Things will pop out at me and I think, “A-ha!”

 

Texts From Idiots

I’m still waiting on a verdict, and I’m still pretty superstitious about saying too much before I hear what is happening so I’m going to leave you with CF’s marvelous texts to me in the aftermath of discovering he was a liar and a cheater, and my replies to those texts. Enjoy!

September 2015

Today is shaping up to not be a good day.  I think it’s finally hitting me and I’m crying.  I spent most of yesterday researching spousal support and tax laws and trying to figure out how much to put aside in taxes each month.  That was sure fun!  If he agrees that it won’t be tax deductible for him I may not have to claim it but I don’t expect him to do me any favors.  He’s been such a standup guy so far, right?  Cousinfucker!  I hate his fucking guts.  I told a friend yesterday after she joked about him dying and doing us all a favor that I prayed for that to happen.  Every fucking weekend he goes down there I hope with all my might that he’ll drive his car off a fucking mountain and die.  I go to sleep thinking about it and how I would handle everything afterwards.

First, I would call the phone company and cancel the whore’s cell phone, along with her daughter’s.  Then I would have my lawyer draft a letter to her, demanding the return of the cell phones within 10 days or I’d be suing her.  I’d cremate him and then just throw his ashes away in the dump.  I had originally thought I’d toss them on his mom’s doorstep but I decided that was too good for her.  No funeral.  No memorial service.  No obituary unless I was able to add in there:  He is survived by his wife and 2 kids, his mistress Harley Skank-Tramp and her 4 kids……  And I’m not sure the paper would let me do that.  No headstone.  No marker.  No nothing.  If his family wants to pay for one they are free to do so.  But I’m not spending a dime on the asshole.  They should be thankful I claim the body at all!  And then I’d look into seeing if I could sue Harley for the money Zack gave her since he’s dead.  Oh, oh, oh- I just added a detail.  Instead of informing Tammy Faye and everyone else I would contact Harley.  Hello, whore.  I’m texting you to let you know Zack is dead.  Automobile accident.  You can inform his family because I won’t be.  Or maybe I just wouldn’t contact them at all.  She could find out when her phone was shut off and when he wasn’t answering her texts.  I’m sure she’d call his mother and have her try to contact him.  And then when she couldn’t get ahold of him she’d have to break down and call me to see if I knew where he was.  Yep, the police contacted me a couple days ago.  He’s dead.  I had him cremated.  Good bye.

Thankfully the crying has passed now.  I’m just so overwhelmed sometimes.  I know we have to sell the house.  I could make ends meet- probably- on what he’ll more than likely be ordered to pay, but money would be tight and there would be no savings.  The mortgage is almost $2100/month.  During the summer our electric bill is over $350.  Those 2 payments alone take up almost half of my spousal support.  Then I start looking for a place to rent.  I need a place that will allow pets and it needs to be in my kids’ school zone.  A fenced in backyard would be a plus.  I’ve been looking and it seems like there is nothing that fits that description.  And then I’m looking at $1600/month for a house that’s less than 2000 sq. ft.  I know we have a big house, probably bigger than we need.  But I like our big bedrooms.  I know Rock Star likes not having to share a bathroom with Picasso.  That’s all going to be over.  I can’t find anything with 3 bathrooms that I’ll be able to afford.  I will probably have to go back to work but I’m not going to be making shit and on top of that if Zack knows I’m working he can always take me back to court and try to get spousal support changed.  I’ll probably be working a shit job just to keep our heads afloat.  And meanwhile he’s off having the time of his life.  I swear to God, my goal is to ruin him.  I want him to commit suicide if his fucking car doesn’t crash.  I know I’m evil but I just don’t care.  I want him to hurt like I’ve been hurting, like my kids have been hurting.

I was at a point where I could safely browse Facebook.  I don’t look at his page.  Or hers.  It just hurts too much.  She’s fawning all over him and nobody chimes in, “This is all kinds of fucked up!”  But I do look on my own news feed.  Today, seeing all the happy anniversary wishes just made me so sad.  They already made me sad before because I felt like I just couldn’t participate on our own anniversary, but now seeing all these people celebrating 20+ years made me incredibly sad and I could feel the tears starting.

Anyway, I promised to write about the text I did send when he asked me if I was ok since he didn’t see my car when he left for work at 6 am.  You know, so he could leave early to fuck his bitch.  He said:

Are you ok?  I went to work at 6 and your car was gone.  Just want to make sure you are alright.

I replied:

Am I ok?  Let’s see.  My husband moved me and my kids across the country, uprooting our lives because this move was supposed to make him so happy.  A year to the day that our furniture was delivered to our new house my husband was having sex with his cousin/mistress; in fact, he blew off a family vacation with his wife and kids to be with her.  I’ve been cheated on and lied to.  My kids are scared and upset.  You aren’t even putting enough in our joint account to cover the bills, much less pay for groceries.  Meanwhile you accuse me, your actual legal wife, of stealing from you while you slink off every weekend to be with your mistress and her kids, spend hundreds each weekend, buy Harley and her daughter new iPhone 6s, and pay their cell phone bill.  So no, I’m not ok.  I’ve lost 25 pounds in less than a month, my blood pressure is sky high, and I’m left cleaning up your mess while you go off and play without a care in the world.  The time to care about whether or not I’m ok was before you went off and started having yet another affair with Harley.  It’s a little too late to act concerned about me now.  Oh, and btw, my car was in the garage.

That took place the Friday of Labor Day weekend where he left to spend 3 glorious days with the cunt and her bratty kids.  He never responded.  Gee, I wonder why not.

Then we have my favorite- the text where he wants us to work together to make this less stressful on everyone.  I’m pissing myself I’m laughing so hard.  Here it is in its glorious entirety:

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.

And finally, here’s what I really want to say; my responses are in bold:  Sam, let’s try to figure out a way to make this less stressful for all involved. Oh, I’m sorry.  Are you stressed?  Whatever would you be stressed out over?  You are fucking your whore every weekend, thinking the two of you are going to be living on easy street while I’m saddled with all the bills and left explaining everything to your kids because you’re such a pathetic coward you can’t do anything that might be difficult.  You want this to be less stressful?  Maybe you should have thought about that before you started fucking your whore of a cousin!  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.  I didn’t throw anything out, you whiney little asshole!  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.  Are you seriously getting your panties in a twist over the fact I took our wedding pictures down?  Or do you think the fact that I’ve wasted the last 21 years of my life on such a pathetic loser is supposed to mean something to me?  Because it doesn’t.  You are nothing to me.  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.  Wow- what a fucking hero! Are you fucking serious?  You actually think that fucking another woman one year to the day after you’ve moved me and my kids 2000 miles across the country, tearing them away from everything they know and love, is some sort of noble act? You really have lost your goddamn mind! 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 which one is it?  Am I well provided for, or am I taking a hit?  Are your children going to live in poverty because Daddy is too busy showing off for his skank ass cousin and her fucking kids, or are you going to step up and actually be a father to them and provide for them?  Actually, don’t answer that because I’ve talked to two lawyers and both of them have come up with a far higher number than that piddly ass one you threw out at me.  Don’t you worry your little bald head about me paying you back.  You are going to pay and pay and pay.  Believe me when I tell you that MY kids will NEVER take a backseat to her or her kids, financially.  When I’m done taking my share you are going to be left with nothing.  Hey, do you think Harley will be as madly in love with you when you’ve got about $200/month to your name and she needs to work double shifts to help pay my spousal support?  Do you think her kids will think you are as wonderful when you can’t fulfill the promises you’ve made to them?  I mean, she’s already sending naked pictures to other men and her kids already talk shit about you behind your back; if you can’t buy them off how do you think they’ll treat you then?

So stop all of this foolishness. What foolishness?  I think you’ve fared very well.  I haven’t outed you to everyone on Facebook. I haven’t yelled and screamed or threatened.  I haven’t thrown all your shit out or burned it.  And believe me, those are all suggestions I’ve had from well meaning friends. I just have no desire to see your ugly face, much less have a conversation with you.  I find you revolting.  Let our children know I love them and let’s act like adults and come to a healthy relationship apart from all of this. 1.  Why don’t you tell your children you love them yourself?  Are you too much of a coward to face them?  Would seeing the hurt and devastation on their faces be too unpleasant for you?  Tough shit!  How do you think I felt when I was left all alone to tell our kids that you were leaving us for another woman?  How do you think I felt when I had to tell them you were fucking your cousin, that everyone in your sick, pathetic family knew and were ok with it, and that we were getting a divorce?  How do you think I feel every time they ask me if we’re going to have to move, or why on earth did you let us get a pool if you were fucking around with the whore, and will they be able to continue going to their same schools?  I don’t know who the fuck lied to you and told you fucking another woman and leaving your wife and kids for her would be easy. 2. I am acting like an adult.  Unfortunately for you that does not include having to have any kind of a relationship with my cheating, lying asshole of an ex-husband!  I know that would be easier on you because you have a long history of not wanting to have to do anything difficult but it’s no longer my job to baby you or make things easy. I have absolutely no desire to be friends with you.  No desire to have any type of a relationship with you.  Our kids are old enough that you can communicate with them.  I don’t need to tell you shit.  I don’t care to surround myself with liars and cheaters and that’s all you are.  You are a pathetic loser and I want nothing to do with you.  I respect you as a mother and you have followed me around the country and I am grateful to you for that. Fuck off!  I am the only parent these kids have known.  You were always too busy holing up in your room and fucking around with Harley to be much of a father to them.  And you can stick your “gratefulness” up your ass, Cousinfucker!  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. What utter bullshit!  I will not lie to my kids like that.  I am NOT happy for you.  You cheated on me and left me for another woman.  You are seriously delusional if you think I will ever be happy about that.  As far as you being happy for me?  Well, gee, isn’t that big of you?  Last time I checked I didn’t have a boyfriend waiting in the wings for me.  I’m not the one walking away from everything leaving you with all the responsibilities.  I’m not the one running off every weekend to be with someone else.  I’m not the one who has hurt our children.  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. Oh please!  I am not depressed and my “depression” has not heightened.  I’ve been dealing with a whiney, douchebag of a husband who takes off and fucks his cousin the first chance he gets.  I’ve been dealing with your first affair with Harley, moving across the country knowing we were moving here because of her, dealing with the fact that I’m not allowed to ever be sad or triggered by anything in regards to said affair, adjusting to life in Whoreville, and then with your fucking downward spiral and all your friends and relatives who couldn’t be bothered the last 20 fucking years to be there for you encouraging you to leave me, and finally with your drinking and all your “anxiety” and “PTSD”.  You have absolutely drained me! Maybe instead of getting your little fee fees hurt because everything wasn’t going your way you could have put on your big boy pants and actually talked to me!  I know you will be whole without me, we aren’t good together. No shit.  It’s a little difficult to be good together when you’re fucking your cousin. 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 don’t need to worry about “our” children.  They hate you and want nothing to do with you. And you don’t need to worry about us working on this.  Your lawyer can talk to my lawyer.  Live it up, Loverboy because once we get before a judge your world is going to be rocked.

The Kool-Aid He Drinks

I’m beginning to think he’s certifiably crazy. Oh sure, he’s got the PTSD stuff going on supposedly, but I am beginning to think the man has just lost his damn mind. He’s delusional.

I got a text from one of his sisters, wanting to meet up. Not Jezebel, of course. She had a lot of interesting information.

I think my favorite part was when she talked about how she went off on him. Apparently he asked how the kids were (because, you know, he can’t pick up a damn phone and CALL THEM!!!) and she told him they were fine but to never expect them to be in his life again. She said she couldn’t hold her tongue anymore and she flat out told him that he was a disappointment. She told him he was the worst father in the world. Wow! She told him he had ruined our daughter’s dreams of college gymnastics and ruined her chance at getting a scholarship for that as well, and that he left Picasso at a time when a teenage boy needs his dad the most. And she told him that despite all of their father’s faults he looked like a saint compared to Cousinfucker; CF actually made their father look like a fantastic father. She finished it up by telling him that what he had done to his own kids was far more detrimental than anything their parents had done to them and that she hoped her harsh words and keen disappointment in his behavior would knock some sense into him.

No luck on that! But thanks for trying.

Naturally, his response was that I had poisoned the kids against him. Yes, it was all on me. I’m sure walking out the door like you were going to work and moving to another state didn’t play any part in it. Or not calling your daughter back or even bothering with checking up on her after she called you crying upon finding out her parents were getting a divorce. She hung up on your mother and yet no one bothered to call her back and find out if she was okay. Nor did you bother with checking on her in person once you got home from your weekend fuck-fest. But I’m sure that’s my fault. Just like it’s my fault that you couldn’t be bothered to walk into their rooms and ask them how they were doing. You couldn’t be bothered to invite them out for an ice cream cone or to dinner or anything really. You couldn’t come up with $80 for a Homecoming dress for your daughter but spent over $300 on a dress for the cunt face cum dumpster’s daughter. I’m also certain it’s my fault that somehow you could find the strength to drive 12 hours round trip every weekend to go fuck a whore but you couldn’t bother to drive even one weekend to see your children. Yes, yes. I’m sure that was my fault. Just like it was undoubtedly my fault that you couldn’t be bothered to attend one single high school gymnastics meet, one single cheer competition or watch one single football game where your own daughter was cheering, but you could buy a fucking t-shirt with the whore’s daughter’s school’s name on it and go to cheer her on… because you wanted to support her. I’m sure it’s my fault you didn’t attempt to communicate with them for months after you forced us to move out of our house, or that you’ve never bothered apologizing for everything you’ve put us through, or that you’ve never set eyes on your kids since you took off. Yep, all my fault. You’re the poor misunderstood victim.

Thankfully this particular sister told him to knock it off. She informed him that I didn’t need to say a word about him. His own actions sealed his fate and his kids could see on their own how selfish he was.

She also mentioned something that I had completely forgotten and which might shed some light on why Harley the Whore is sticking around despite his alcoholism and unemployment. CF’s dad died a few years ago. As far as I know the estate has not been settled, at least it hadn’t been when I was still with him. She asked if we ever received anything and I was honest- told her we hadn’t and I thought it was all pending the sale of the house. So…. while I’m not saying it definitely did happen if he did in fact receive money from his father’s estate that would explain why the gold digger is still hanging around. It explains why she didn’t cut bait and run once he lost his job. It explains how he’s able to continue to pay his lawyer, despite being unemployed for 9 months. I know that according to our state law I am not legally entitled to any inheritance he may have received, so I’m not upset about that. If he has been living off of it though I hope he has a good time explaining to the judge how it is that he could continue to support his new, fake family but he could’t send a dime to his actual family.

Furthermore, she told me his FB page is full of pictures of him and his new family. She thought it was sickening and told me she hoped the kids hadn’t seen it. Hey! We’re in agreement. I find it sickening and ridiculous, too!

And, as I already suspected, he had a difficult time finding work because he refused to look outside of the state or leave her behind. I find it so comforting to know that he could move me and our kids around, disrupt our lives and never for a minute think of us but the whore and her four kids are the only thing he takes into consideration now. Too bad he couldn’t have exhibited such care and concern when it was us.

Do you want to hear something really ironic? The company that ultimately “fired” him (forced him to resign) was the same company that he originally worked for. Actually, the first company he worked for was bought out by another company. That company was eventually bought out by this newest company. So in a bizarre sort of way he ended up working for the very first company he ever worked for, which means he could have remained in the same town where we met. I never would have needed to move. I wouldn’t have needed to reinvent my life over and over again. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth? Oh well, as long as he’s happy….

Spitting Nails, Part 1

You get a bonus entry today because I am so mad I could spit nails.

My attorney appeared in court today to get a show-cause hearing. As expected Cousinfucker simultaneously filed for a modification of his support. It gets better. He’s now claiming that because of his mental health and substance abuse issues he won’t be able to earn anywhere near his previous salary. He is putting his income range around $30,000. Wow- that’s what he was making when I met him more than 22 years ago. It gets even better. Not only are they filing for a modification of support they want it retroactive to the day in June that he notified me he lost his job. Because apparently when you don’t have a job you don’t have any bills to pay and your children no longer have any needs or wants.

I just asked my attorney a few days ago if a judge would vacate his arrears and she told me that he would still owe that. I asked again after reading his lawyer’s filing and I haven’t yet heard back. It may very well turn out that I’m going to have to wait until February to see if he will get away with yet another shitty act. If Cousinfucker wanted a modification he should have filed for that months ago. He’s a lazy sonofabitch who figured I would go away and let him fuck his whore in peace. Does the fact that he’s had FIVE MONTHS to file a modification mean nothing?

On top of that his attorney is trying to make him look like a saint by claiming all of his gross annual income for Dream Job #1 and then claiming a pay cut for Dream Job #2 while he continued to pay the agreed upon court orders. Um… first of all, she overestimated his pay by about $20,000. Second of all, he was paying support based upon his monthly income only. He argued vehemently against having any of his bonus, stocks, or dividend checks included. He even argued that the bonus was already spent and that he wasn’t assured of that amount every year (another lie). He actually ended up paying less than what he would have been ordered to pay if we had included all of his salary. Third of all, he didn’t take a pay cut when he moved; he actually got a slight monthly pay increase where his base salary was concerned. It wasn’t much but then again he wasn’t moving for the money; he was moving for the whore. Fourth? It’s not my damn fault he quit his job and moved. Those are called consequences, Cousinfucker!

Naturally they are using his veteran status and claiming he has severe depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and PTSD. Funny how most of that didn’t manifest itself until he started fucking a whore and found out it wasn’t so cheap to get rid of the wife.

My attorney is not very hopeful. She thinks he’s going to have a tough time finding another job in his pay range. The jobs that pay what he’s used to won’t want to take a chance on him and the jobs that aren’t as demanding will say he’s overqualified. So, I don’t know if she thinks he’s going to get away with everything (which is what I’m fully expecting), or if she thinks it doesn’t matter what a judge rules because he’ll never be able to pay me what he owes.

She did suggest to his attorney that perhaps he ought to go back to his former place of employment to see if he was eligible for a re-hire, letting them know he had an emergency medical issue which has been taken care of. That’s hysterical. He doesn’t want to have to commute 2 hours each way. He sure as hell doesn’t want to have to go back to the company he called home for 15 years because that’s 6 hours away from the whore. He could get a job in Manufacturing Services but that would require weekly travel and I’m sure he’d prefer to get his nightly blow job over supporting his children. He’s such a piece of shit.

Twenty years of marriage and nineteen years of me following that sonofabitch all over the country and I’m going to be left with nothing.

Part 2 of my, “I’m So Mad I Could Spit Nail,” coming later tonight. Probably. I’ve been up since 12:45 am so I’m getting a bit tired.

I Gave You 21 Years; Why Couldn’t You Give Me 2?

 

I’m probably dating myself here but I feel like the newspaper carrier in Better Off Dead.  You know the one?  The little kid that keeps screaming, “I want my two dollars!”  That’s me.  Only my rant is, “Why couldn’t you give me two years after I’ve spent our entire marriage coddling you?”

Honestly, our entire marriage I babied him.  I gave into him.  I let him call the shots almost always.  I moved even when I was perfectly happy.  He screwed around with Harley, lied about it, tried to cover it up, and then *I* was the one that made all these changes.  He didn’t change a damn thing.  I gave and gave and gave.  I put up with his “social anxiety”, his “PTSD”, all his bullshit “issues”.  I dealt with him acting like every damn cold he had was the Black Plague and death was imminent.  I accepted the fact that I was going to have to do a lot of this parenting stuff on my own.  I accepted the fact that we wouldn’t do a lot of things as a family because he had better things to do.  I accepted and dealt with a lot. But after the first discovery he couldn’t give me even two years.

It wasn’t just two years to “get over” his first emotional affair.  It was two years to get over that, to accept that he had done it, to try to move on and forgive him and put it all behind us.  But it was also learning to accept the fact that his family betrayed me and supported Harley.  They refused to cut ties with her, citing the fact that she was family; they gave her a ringside seat into my life, our life.  Every reconciliation site advocates no contact but it didn’t really matter if CF and I had no contact with her; everyone he saw when he would go back home to visit had contact with her.  They fawned over her.  I had to learn these new parameters and try to rise above, be the bigger person and tell myself, “I can accept the fact that his mom has a relationship with her and one with me.”  Yeah, if that currently describes you STOP IT!  I was an idiot.  I ate way too many shit sandwiches.  But at the time I knew it made Cousinfucker unhappy when he had to choose between his family and me.  I told myself that if our marriage was going to get back on track that at some point I was going to have to drop the rope and be the bigger person because his family is too stupid and insensitive to ever realize what they’re doing is hurtful, and I can’t keep making him choose between us (despite how right I really was!).

It was learning to accept the fact that his sister would stab me in the back every chance she got.  She never supported our marriage once he began his affair with Harley as far as I’m concerned.  When he told her he was messing around with Harley the first time her advice was to do what makes him happy.  When he complained about the money I would spend she would agree with him that I wasted money.  Funny that neither of them actually knew how I spent the money.  Yes, I was wasting it on frivolous things like groceries, the mortgage, utilities, car payments and insurance, sports for the kids, clothes for the kids, pet food… the list of financial abuses goes on and on!  After sending me a friend request on Facebook over a year after his EA was discovered she whined to him that I had declined it and she was just done!  I could hardly blame her though.  After all, she had reached out to me dozens of times at that point- calling, texting, emailing, FB friend requests.  Oh wait- that never happened.  Yes, this savior of our marriage NEVER reached out to me.  When I discovered his little exchange with his nephew about the tattoos and marrying the whore I texted her and told her to check up on her brother.  That was the one and only time that we had any kind of exchange.  It was started by me and she never checked up on me again.  And of course he once again had to play the poor, pitiful victim.  He couldn’t have a relationship with her if I didn’t like her.  Oh, she just loved and supported her little brother unconditionally.  It made him so sad that he couldn’t have his sister visit our house.  Believe me, I did set him straight on that one!  I reminded him that his sister hadn’t visited us in more than ten years at that time; she didn’t come to our house because she didn’t want to come to our house and I was not going to take the blame for her no longer being “welcome” at our house.

I’m sensing a theme here and it goes kind of like this:  Sam, you just need to understand that you are at the bottom of my priority list.  I’ll throw you under the bus to anyone who will listen and when they stab you in the back while you’re trying to climb out from under the bus tires, I’m going to need you to smile real pretty for them.  You gotta make nice because these people, though I whine and complain about how they’re never there for me and your family is more of a family to me than mine is, are way more important to me than you are.

It was discovering they had made plans to move me and his kids closer to her so that they could carry on their affair and then being asked to trust that everything was over and that this move he wanted was not about her.  Oh, and did I mention that this occurred months after DDay?  Yes, my one year anti-versary was spent in a brand new house only hours away from Harley the Whore.  I moved across the country narrowing the distance between my husband and his mistress by about twenty hours and he wants to go around telling everyone I hate him.  You entitled, selfish ass!

To sum up: I find out in August, the day of my daughter’s birthday party and only days after my stepfather has died, that my husband has been lying and cheating all summer long.  Two months later I find out he was making plans to marry the whore and they were going to get tattoos together.  Three months after that he accepts the offer for the new job which will take us hours away from her.  And he had been talking about this move the whole entire time, offering to give it up for me because even though he was miserable he would be willing to live in misery so that we could all be happy.  You are such a fake, Cousinfucker.

I then am being asked to acclimate to a new town, one that is much smaller than any we’ve lived in for years.  I’m asked to leave all my friends behind.  I’m asked to leave all my volunteer activities behind.  I can’t find anything similar out here and can’t really find anything to do.  I have 3 or 4 friends.  If we want to count people that I’ve met as friends then I may be up to around eight but it doesn’t mean I actually do anything with these people.  My support network is gone.  My tight knit group of gymnast moms is gone.  There’s no more traveling for gymnastics so no more team dinners and sightseeing with a bunch of friends.  No more Bunko.

I’m watching my kids, specifically my son, struggle with this change.  I know he misses his friends.  I know he misses hockey and playing the cello.  He missed his last year of elementary school because at his new school 6th grade is the first year of middle school, instead of the last year of elementary school.  He missed out on the Valentine’s Day dance, the DARE program, 6th grade graduation.

My daughter adjusted beautifully but it was still painful for her to leave behind gymnastics.  She has continued on in a lesser capacity but it’s not the same.  She knows she’ll never improve.  It was, and still is, difficult for her to watch as all her teammates advance and learn new skills.  She recently said to me, “Think about how good I would be now if I hadn’t had to quit.” When asked if she would give up her new life and all the new experiences she has been given in order to be a Level 10 she answers without hesitation, “In a heartbeat.”

I came back from visiting everyone this summer renewed and refreshed, ready to tackle the world and to grow deep roots in my new community.  I needed less than two damn years to get over his emotional affair, to accept the new relationship with his family, and to adjust to a new town.  TWO!  But apparently that was too much to ask of him.  It needed to be instantaneous or he felt unloved, hated even.  I didn’t trust him; I would never be able to get over what he had done.  Cousinfucker, you are a pathetic piece of human excrement.

I gave him twenty-one years of my life.  Twenty-one years of babying him, holding his hand, propping him up, dealing with his various issues, moving all over the place, taking care of him, telling him he was the most special boy who ever lived, and defending him ferociously against anyone who would go against him.  Twenty-one years of listening to him whine, bitch, and complain.  Twenty-one years of doctor’s appointments, ER visits and the like.  Twenty-one years of him being miserable and unhappy about one thing or another.  Twenty-one years, everybody. He couldn’t give me two.

The Days That I (Want To) Cry

Quick disclaimer: This entry was written a few months ago.  It is all still applicable today but since I made mention of Christmas I wanted to assure anyone reading this that I’m not already planning for Christmas 2016.  Enjoy!

I have prided myself on the fact that I have cried very little about the demise of my marriage.  I didn’t cry when her husband contacted me, once again, almost 2 years to the date he contacted me the first time.  I didn’t cry as I talked to him and felt my world crashing down.  I remember telling him, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.  We just bought this house.  We’ve bought all brand new furniture.  We just put a pool in the backyard.  My car is a year old.  I have no idea what I’m going to do.”  I didn’t cry when I found out he had spent months lying to me about sending money to his mom; instead he had funneled thousands to his mistress.  And that didn’t include any of the purchases he had made for her when he was with her. I didn’t cry as I called around to make appointments for consultations, or either of the days that I drove to the lawyer’s office and talked about that word that I never wanted to hear, breaking down almost 21 years of marriage to the barest of bones.  What are my options?  What am I looking at here?  Will I get spousal support?  Will I get custody of my kids or am I looking at joint custody? Will my kids have a say in whether or not they see him?  Can I stay in my house, the one we just moved to a year ago, or will I be forced to sell?  Can I leave the state if I’m destitute, seeing as how he moved us here only a year ago to get closer to his mistress?  Please tell me what’s going to happen to me and my kids.  I didn’t cry a few days later when I got confirmation that he was cheating on me with the same woman or when I found out he cashed in the rest of his stock and had it wired to an unknown by me account.  I didn’t even cry when I found out he was interviewing for a job in her state, which meant he would be leaving his own two kids behind.

No, I have held up well for the most part.  I cried when I told my kids, unable to keep his secret any longer.  You see, once he realized I knew what he was up to he didn’t even bother lying to me.  He would simply leave for the weekend.  When he would come home is anyone’s guess.  Sometimes it was early Monday morning, around 3 am.  Sometimes it wouldn’t be until Monday afternoon.  Lately, he seems to be returning sometime between 8 and 10 on Sunday.  He must be running out of vacation days.  Back to the story at hand.  I did cry when I told the kids.  My daughter burst into tears and covered her face with her hands.  My son who is only a young teen yet towers over me began sobbing onto my shoulder.  I was forced to admit that I had no answers.  I didn’t know what we were going to do.  I didn’t know where we were going to end up living.  I didn’t know if they would be able to finish out the school year in their current schools. I cried and I apologized again and again.  I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it work.  I’m so sorry I don’t have any more answers for you.  I’m so sorry you’re going through this; I never ever wanted this for you. My kids were hurting, dammit, and I hurt for them.  The person who was responsible for this destruction of life as they knew it was hundreds of miles away, enjoying life with his mommy, his cheating sister and her OM turned husband (this is the second one!) and his mistress and her kids.

I cried the day after being given just a little too much information.  Like the fact that my still husband put a deposit down on a ridiculously expensive dog for children that are not his own.  Like the fact that his mistress is wearing a diamond ring.  Like the fact he’s interviewing for yet another out of state job.  Like the fact that they’ve taken a few trips together.  Don’t misunderstand. I don’t want him. All feelings for him died when I learned what he did.  Again.  He ripped our lives apart and moved us 2000 miles across the country, taking us away from everything we had built the last eight years only to start screwing his skank of a cousin pretty much a year to the day that our furniture was delivered to our new house. Even blew off a family vacation with us to be with her.  Hearing those things hurt nonetheless.  As one of my friends put it, “He’s going about this in the cruelest way possible.”

No, the days I want to cry are the ones where I least expect it.  I wanted to cry when my daughter said her father wouldn’t miss them if they didn’t see him on Father’s Day.  “He’ll be too busy with his fake kids to miss us.”  I wanted to cry when my son told the therapist (before I knew anything about his affair) that his idea of a miracle would be his dad getting better and being able to play video games with him and doing things with all of us again.  Or when he said he’d like it if occasionally his dad would pop his head into his room and ask him how he was doing instead of him, the child, having to go to his dad any time he wanted to see him. Now he tells me he can’t trust his dad and he thinks that everything he’s been saying these past 6-9 months has been a lie so he could distance himself from us.  I want to cry every time I hear how jaded they sound.  It’s hasn’t been that long since they found out and already I hear in their voices, in their comments, how they have already given up on him.

I want to cry when I think of everything they are losing.  I never wanted this for them.  I tried so hard to keep this marriage together.  I forgave him two years ago.  I took responsibility for my own part in our crumbling marriage.  Note:  I fully realize I am not to blame for him choosing to have an affair.  My motto, based on a quote I saw, is:  I may be partly responsible for the void that exists in our marriage, but I will never assume responsibility for the way he chose to fill that void.  Amen! I made changes in my behavior.  I tried to be everything he wanted, but as always it was never enough.

Some days I think this is the worst possible time for them to witness their parents’ marriage implode.  They are both teenagers.  They have lived a life of comfort.  This past June, when my daughter told me she had grown out of all of her shorts from last year, I simply went to the mall and bought her new shorts, around $200 worth.  They’ve never been hungry.  They’ve never gone without.  All of their needs and pretty much most of their wants have been provided for.  They’ve had a stay at home mom all their life.  I’m available to chauffeur them around and attend their events and drop things off at the school if necessary.  And now, now that they are soon to be off to college they are going to know struggles.  My husband and I both grew up without much.  I thought we both didn’t want that for our kids.  I know I don’t want my kids to have to work 20 hours a week in order to be able to go out with friends or buy Christmas presents or buy things they need that I can no longer afford. I want them to be able to participate in sports and activities at school.  I want them to have a carefree existence.  There will be plenty of time for worry and bills and not being able to do what you want.  We made a conscious choice to pamper and indulge our children and now with only a few more years under our roof he is ripping that away from them and giving it to someone else’s kids.

I want to cry when I think about my kids having relationship issues because of what’s going on in their lives right now.  When I think of my beautiful, smart daughter possibly doing stupid things because of “daddy issues”.  When I think of my handsome, talented son potentially treating women like his father has treated me.  When I think of either of them having relationship problems because of their father and his infidelity, being unable to trust or worse yet, hurting the people they love before they can be hurt.  I sincerely hope that they both choose to do things differently than he did.  I hope that my son will look at how his father has acted pretty much his entire life and choose to be an active, involved father instead of one who is constantly blowing off his kids and retreating to the silence of his room.  I hope my daughter will pick a man who will be a true partner to her, instead of letting her carry the load.  Someone who participates in life with her, goes places with her, celebrates holidays with her, parents their children together, spends time with her and their children instead of what she saw me put up with.  Hell, I hope the same thing for my son!  I hope both of them are able to look objectively at the relationship they saw modeled and reject it outright, searching for something better, something more complete.  But it still makes me sad when I hear either of them say, “He was never much of a dad to me anyway,” or “The only reason he went on vacation with us last year was because he was happy we were moving closer to his girlfriend.”  For the record, I do speak up and correct them on that, tell them that I don’t think he was involved with her with then.  But it doesn’t matter to them.

I want to cry when I think about how he’s putting on the performance of a lifetime and making pancakes for kids that already have an involved father.  How many times do you suppose he made pancakes or anything else for our kids?  If you guessed zero you would be correct!  He’s lavishing them with time, attention and gifts and my son says, “Mom, if you do remarry would you marry a guy that wants to be an involved dad?  I’ve never had one of those and I think it would be nice.”  THAT makes me want to cry and it breaks my heart.

I want to cry when I think about all the ruined relationships my kids are suffering through.  Everyone on his mother’s side of the family knows what they are doing.  They are all fine with it.  This has devastated my children.  As my son, so wise even at his young age, put it, “I can’t trust them anymore.”  My daughter has disowned them. Her first question to me was, “Does everyone down there know what he’s doing?”  Her second question, after I told her that yes, they did, was, “AND THEY’RE OKAY WITH THAT?” At their ages they understand the difference between right and wrong and they have clearly labeled having an affair as WRONG!  That is something my ex in-laws still haven’t mastered despite the fact they claim to be devout Christians. Perhaps their list of ten commandments reads:  Thou shalt not commit adultery… unless you really really like each other and feel you are soul mates. My little agnostic and atheist have more of a moral compass than those people do.  I guess you can do whatever you want and support whatever behavior you’d like so long as you faithfully attend church and don’t cuss or drink. Saying “fuck”?  That’s bad!  Actually fucking your cousin while you’re married to another woman?  That’s ok. Come to think of it, she’s married, too, so she’s cheating on her husband.  The kicker?  STBX FIL was the one who married them.  Too bad for them that they were all so busy telling my cheating husband (and his cheating whore as well, I’m sure) that his happiness was the only thing that mattered that they completely forget about his two kids, their grandchildren/niece and nephew.  But I’m sure it’s all my fault.  I’ve somehow turned them against them and in another world where up is down and down is up, where rain drops shoot up from the grass and grass hangs off of the clouds, where unicorns shoot rainbows out of their asses and I fart glitter out of mine, my kids wouldn’t care at all about the fact their family is breaking up and every one of their relatives on their father’s side had a ringside seat.

I want to cry when I think about Christmas.  How am I going to buy Christmas presents?  Am I still going to be able to do Elf on a Shelf?  I know, I know, they’re teenagers- way too old for that anymore.  But they enjoy it.  Last year Santa brought them MacBook Pros.  This year…. hopefully he can bring them something.  This will be the first year since I got married that I won’t have a stocking filled.  I told my husband right from the beginning that it was his job to fill my stocking every Christmas morning and he did.  I, of course, filled one for him as well.  I always decorated the inside of the house and he decorated the outside.  So this year we will have no decorations outside.  I’m sure I could figure it out if I needed to but I’m not very motivated, to be honest.  The other part that makes me want to cry?  I’m sure he’ll be busy decorating her house for her and her kids.  I try not to think like that very often because I know it does me no good; however, every so often those thoughts do creep into my mind.

I want to cry when I think back to how our house, for the first time in years, went undecorated for Halloween.  Oh, I’m sure he helped to decorate the hell out of her whorehouse.  But us?  Not a single outside decoration this year.  He also didn’t carve pumpkins for the kids.  The whore was gushing all over Facebook though about cute Halloween and pumpkin design ideas.  “Look, CF, power tools and pumpkins!” Isn’t she just the cutest thing?  Puke!  I’m sure he spent a blissful family weekend carving pumpkins for children that weren’t his own while he pretended his own children didn’t exist.  Oh, don’t you worry- my kids and I carved pumpkins on our own.  We carved the fuck out of those pumpkins!  They were glorious!  It still doesn’t excuse that vile creature for neglecting his kids.

I want to cry when I think about everything we’re leaving behind.  Our house is a year old.  I didn’t love it at first but it has grown on me.  Pair that with the fact that I’m not a big fan of moving and we’ve got a winning combination!  And did I mention we just put a brand new expensive inground pool into our backyard?  Yes, I’ve wanted one for years and years and when we agreed to make this move getting a pool was one of the conditions.  When we looked for houses one of the things we looked for was a backyard that would accommodate a pool.  We promised the kids we’d get one if the house didn’t already come with one.  Excavation began in the spring.  The pool wasn’t ready until August.  All summer long we waited for that thing.  I would console myself with the knowledge that we had many summers ahead of us in which we could enjoy that pool, all summer long.  Haha- joke’s on me.  I’m so glad we paid all of that money so we could use it for about 4 weeks.  Definitely worth it!  Did I also mention we bought pretty much all brand new furniture for this new house of ours?  Yes, we hadn’t bought new furniture in over eight years.  What we had was pretty ratty.  We bought a 4000 square foot home and bought new mattresses for both kids and the guest bed, new beds for the kids, new living room furniture, new formal living room furniture, a pie safe and a small end/sofa table for the dining room to even out the room, new coffee tables (which the husband insisted upon having), new end tables, new bar stools, a new cabinet for the laundry room, a new desk, and a new patio set for the enclosed porch. And a trampoline.  Later on we bought a foosball table, a dart board and an air hockey table for the basement.  Not to mention all the stuff you buy for the bathroom- new shower curtains, shower liner, hooks, rugs, towels, trash cans, toothbrush holders, etc.  Oh yes! In fact, we had four of those, although one is more aptly described as a powder room. And, since I had nothing to do in this new town I decided to make decorating my house my new hobby.  I’ve got decorations for every month except for the summer; I keep those up from June until mid September.  Now what do I do with all of this shit?  I know, I know.  It’s only stuff.  Don’t get attached.  I still want to cry though when I think about all of the money we wasted on this stuff that I stupidly thought meant something.

I want to cry when I think about how I wasted almost half of my life with him.  I can’t figure out which memories to ditch and which ones to keep.  I genuinely love Memphis, but can I ever think of it separately from him?  I plan on giving away my mugs from the islands where we honeymooned.  I don’t want them.  I’m planning on trashing the ornaments we received for our first Christmas and the ones we purchased on our honeymoon. Do I continue to root for the team he loved, the one we taught our kids to love, or do I cheer on another one, maybe an arch rival? There are so many memories (about 21 years worth!) and experiences that are due to him and I hate that! I think of vacations we took with him, and vacations we went on without him (his choice, of course).  I think of all the things that I’ve been able to do because he supported me financially, and all the things the kids and I have been able to do, for the same reason.  We’ve moved all over the country in order to support his career.  I’ve gained many friends and seen many places thanks to him, but I don’t feel like being grateful to him for any of that.  I sometimes think to myself:  Yes, I got to go through all of the crappy years with him.  I got to move all over the country for him.  I lived with him during the lean years.  And now, 21 years later, she doesn’t have to move.  She CAN’T move; her (ex)husband will never let her move with his kids.  He’s going to move to be closer to her (screw his kids- it won’t matter if he’s 6 or 8 hours away from them).  And she won’t be experiencing the lean years.  Oh no, he’s making big bucks now and he’s spending it wildly on her and her kids.  He said he felt like nothing more than a wallet to me and our kids, so what does he do?  He replaces me with a lying, manipulative gold digging whore who spends money like water and has an arrest record.  Not to mention throwing money at her kids who then proceed to trash talk him behind his back.  Hey, here’s a tip, Einstein:  If you don’t want to be treated like a wallet, stop acting like one!

I want to cry when I think about how stupid I was to ever trust him again.  This could have been done two years ago.  Who on earth in her right mind agrees to move closer to the mistress?  That’s right- me!  I was so confident that I had “won” and that our relationship was better than ever.  Stupid, stupid me.  I should have kicked him to the curb back then.  At the very least I should have said to him:  Suck it up, buttercup!  We’re all happy here; we’re not moving.  But no, I was the good, dutiful wife.  I followed him all over, supported his career.  Essentially I sacrificed my happiness, and my children’s happiness, for his.  And then he shit all over us.

I almost cried the other day when talking about relationships that begin in high school and turn into long lasting marriages with my daughter.  I could feel the tears starting to form but I choked them back.  I was telling her about a friend of mine who met her husband when she was in ninth grade.  They dated all through high school and all through college and then got married.  They’ve been together over thirty years.  My daughter asked me, “How does that happen?”  As I answered her honestly I wanted to cry.  “Honey, sometimes you just get lucky the first time, I guess.”  Why cry at that?  Because it turns out I didn’t get lucky at all, even with a wedding, two beautiful and much wanted children, and twenty years of marriage. Oh, believe me.  I lucked out on my kids.  They are fantastic.  But as far as being lucky in love?  I didn’t get lucky with my first pick back when I was in ninth grade and I wasn’t lucky with what I thought was my final pick when I was almost twenty-six.

I want to cry most days when I go on Facebook and see all those happy couples shouting out a happy anniversary to their other half.  You see, I haven’t been able to do that since his first go round with the whore.  Every time I would think about it it would depress me and I would think to myself, “How can I celebrate this day when he cheated on me?  Your anniversary is supposed to be the day you honor your vows.  He didn’t honor his so how do we celebrate?”  The funny part is I truly thought this would be the year that I could do exactly that.  I was really hoping this year I could post on Facebook, “Happy Anniversary to my love.  It’s been 21 years and I can’t wait to see what the next 21 bring.”  I want to cry not only because people are happily married, but also because I look back at my own relationship and I think, “I made it 20 years, too, and then he shit all over me. I hope you have better luck.”  Sometimes I think, “What’s wrong with me that I couldn’t make it work like they could?”  Of course, the answer is this:  They’re not married to a lying, cheating douchebag!

Ironically, I never cry about the fact that he’s screwing his cousin.  I figure that’s his own shame to carry.  I mean, that’s just some sick stuff. And as I said before I pretty much lost all feelings for him the minute I found out he was fucking around on me again.

I want to cry some days when I think about how much he’s lied and how he’s treated me and the kids.  How I hate the lies!  Every time he would tell me one I wanted so badly to believe it, even knowing all I did.  He told me he was going to his best friend’s for the weekend and headed directly to her house.  Told me he loved me.  Oh, the drive is so exhausting; I’m going to bed as soon as I get there.  When I told him I loved him he told me he loved me more.  Blech!  He even went so far as to request pictures of my boobs!  You’re screwing your cousin and you want your wife to send you naked pictures?  Oh hell no!  He acts like he’s the victim.  He actually told our daughter that the reason he left every weekend was because he wasn’t welcome at the house.  No, you leave every weekend because your whore lives in a different state and your dick can’t reach her from here!  The way he’s treated me you would think that I have been cheating on him!  Good God I wish!  Divorce seems to be so much easier when you have a partner by your side!

I want to cry when I start thinking defeatist thoughts like, “Death wouldn’t be so bad.”  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not suicidal.  I know that if I did that then I would be sentencing my kids to a fate worse than death- life with their “father” full time! And I’ve never been a big fan of death; I’m one of those people who would kind of like to live to be 115.  It’s just that some days I think that once I’ve raised my kids maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to lay down and die.  Or that since I don’t have anything to look forward to when death comes I won’t mind. Look, I’m 46 years old.  I haven’t worked outside of the home in 17 years.  I have never made more than $20,000 in a single year on my own.  My whole life (and retirement plan) was intrinsically linked with my husband’s.  Now that is all gone and I’m left wondering where am I going to live?  Should I move back to my home state and piss off my kids even more?  We just moved here and I know they don’t want to start over.  If I stay here, how long do I stay?  Will I be stuck here forever because my kids end up making their homes here?  What kind of a job will I get?  Should I go back to school for a more useful degree?  Will anyone want to hire me at my age?  What is life going to look like in a few years?  Should I just plan on using spousal support to support myself?  What’s going to happen to me if my douchebag ex dies at a young age?  No more spousal support; that’s for sure! Will I be eating dog food when I’m 80 because I have no money saved up for retirement since, you know, I had planned on still being married at that point (or at least widowed)?  For all I know I’ll be alone for the rest of my life.  My kids will grow up, possibly marry, have families of their own.  I guess that’s yet another negative of divorcing when your kids are older; you don’t have years and years to focus on your kids instead of your own happiness and reinventing your life.  That sounds bad, doesn’t it?  I guess what I mean is, well, to put it bluntly I’ve got about 7 more years of full time parenting left!  My daughter graduates in less than 3 years and then she’ll be off to college.  My son will graduate 3 years after that.  I’ve spent the last 15 years being Mom; my schedule has revolved around their activities and school events.  I thought in another few years I’d be dealing with the empty nest syndrome and traveling with my husband.  Turns out I’ll be…. who knows?  So yeah, some days just laying down and dying doesn’t seem so bad.  At least for me.  It would probably suck for a lot of other people.

Finally, I want to cry some days when I think about the future (see above if you don’t believe me).  About love and happiness.  I’m easily overwhelmed these days so I try not to think too much about health/dental/vision insurance, or if I’m ever going to have any savings in my savings account, or what the hell will happen to me when I hit retirement age.  Mainly, I try to have hope that one day I may be happy as well.  I know it happens, but here’s the thing.  I met my husband after a five year drought.  I was young and cute and thin back then.  I had no children, no ex-husband, and not having a job wasn’t a huge negative.  I still couldn’t get a steady boyfriend!  Now I’m <gulp> middle aged with two teenagers.  Although I’ve lost 25 pounds so far on the divorce diet I’m still carrying about 50 I don’t need.  My boobs, awesome as they are, sag and I have stretch marks and a c-section scar.  As I said above I haven’t worked a full time job in 17 years and I’ve been a stay at home mom for 15 years.  If I’m being optimistic I’m still pretty cute.  I’m hopeful there is someone out there for me but I’m not planning on it.  And that just sucks. Many times I find myself wishing that I wasn’t going through this divorce alone just like my husband isn’t.  Many times I think that I would like to have someone waiting in the wings to take my husband’s place, like he has someone chomping at the bit to take mine. But that would make me a whore so…  Some days I wish I knew what my future was supposed to look like. Hell, fantasy or not, at least the douchebag has a plan. I am hoping that I don’t let this awful experience color my view on men and all other relationships.  I was pretty jaded in my teens and twenties and at that point I had obviously never devoted 21 years of my life to another human being only to be betrayed. I know I’ll never remarry and that’s ok. No, seriously, my spousal support will stop if I remarry or move in with someone; I’m never remarrying. Besides, after these past 21 years being with a person who was never much of a partner I’m good with just dating. My daughter used to tell me that if I ever left her dad he would never be able to find anyone else.  Oh, the irony.  It burns.  But hey, if a bald guy with bad teeth and some serious psychological issues (not to mention being a pathological liar and a cheater) can find love surely I can!