Spitting Nails, Part 2

This could also be entitled, “The Perils of Facebook” or “Why No Contact Is Awesome”. Honestly, I do so much better when I know absolutely nothing about what he’s doing. To be clear, I don’t seek this out. I’d also like to point out that seeing as how he’s claiming PTSD and all sorts of mental problems it’s not in my best interest to hide my head in the sand. You would be amazed at how many people end up getting tripped up by Facebook. Nonetheless, he infuriates me with his bullshit and his total oblivion to all the destruction he has caused.

I told you all that Cousinfucker has his new profile picture up. It’s a picture of him and Harley the Whore. Apparently, he has chosen to make his page public so my mom (and my lawyer) can read his page. I’ve been told he’s getting many comments about how happy he looks, how they’re so happy for him, how happiness looks good on him. Puke. Nothing like being told I made him miserable. Gosh, looks like not only is Harley a whore she’s also a happiness fairy! Good to know, Cousinfucker; good to know.

Then I’m told the whole reason Cousinfucker was posing with the whore’s youngest son was because he went to school with him for show and tell! Yes, instead of lamenting the fact that his own children didn’t write him gushing letters of appreciation for his service he chose to go to show and tell on Veteran’s Day with a fucking kid that doesn’t belong to him. That child HAS a father. I couldn’t get him to regularly attend parent-teacher conferences with me. His own son couldn’t get him to drop him off at school because the carpool lane freaked him out. He threw a royal fit when he had to go grab a dollar gift for his daughter’s school Christmas party. But he can certainly rise to the occasion for the whore’s kid. Nice.

Finally, a friend of his sent me a message today. This is the guy that I talk to as well and have for several years. He did say he figured Cousinfucker was having a public pity party on Facebook but he felt duty-bound to pass along the message. He told me he wasn’t going to let CF know he had passed it along but he felt I should have it.

Keep in mind this message is written with good ol’ dad posing with the whore that he left his family for.

I want to wish my children a Happy Thanksgiving. It is doubtful that they will see this, but I wanted to express it anyway. I love you both immensely and miss you terribly. I hope you have a great Thanksgiving and always know that I love you like crazy. Nothing in the world can change the love I have for you.

What a load of shit! It starts out okay, I suppose.

I want to wish my children a Happy Thanksgiving.

It quickly veers into pity with that second sentence.

It is doubtful that they will see this, but I wanted to express it anyway.

Hey, why do you think they won’t see your wonderful sentiments, Cousinfucker? Could it be because you walked out of their lives without a backward glance? Could it be because you chose a whore and her four kids over your own flesh and blood? Could it possibly be because instead of wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving by sending them a card or calling them or even sending a text, you chose to post it publicly on Facebook?

That’s such a curious way to wish your children a Happy Thanksgiving and let them know how much you love and miss them. I don’t suppose you did that to garner pity, did you? Did you take that page right out of your mother’s book? She can’t interact with her grandkids unless it’s on a public stage. I see you’ve picked up that trick as well. Don’t bother to call. Don’t bother to text. Just post a bunch of self-pitying bullshit on Facebook so everyone can see how much you love and miss them. Bonus points- you may be able to convince people the entire reason you don’t have contact with them isn’t because of anything you may or may not have done but because I’m such a horrible bitch.

I love you both immensely and miss you terribly. I hope you have a great Thanksgiving and always know that I love you like crazy. Nothing in the world can change the love I have for you.

I appreciate the sentiment but I think we both know that a father who truly loves and misses his kids wouldn’t even dream of doing the things to them that you have. He wouldn’t drag them away from their friends and everything they love, dash their dreams, make them start all over, and then once they begin to rebuild their lives start cheating on their mother, forcing a divorce and yet more upheaval. He wouldn’t move out of the goddamn state he drug them to less than two years later, and he sure as shit wouldn’t move out without saying a fucking word to either of them. He wouldn’t force them to move out of their home, out of the state. He wouldn’t cost his daughter her driver’s license. He wouldn’t take away her great new life so he could get his dick sucked. He wouldn’t refuse to support them or be fine with them living in poverty. He wouldn’t play these stupid games with their mother because he would do the right thing. He wouldn’t let months go by without contacting them. You know what else he wouldn’t do? He wouldn’t post his fucking message on Facebook. He’d pick up a goddamn phone and actually talk to his fucking kids. If they don’t pick up leave a message! It’s a thing.

All that crap you just wrote? It’s all image management and self-pity. I’m just a poor man who loves his children unconditionally no matter how much they might reject me. Please Facebook friends, tell me how wonderful and noble I am. Tell me how my children will see the light one day. Tell me my mean, nasty wife won’t get away with turning them against me. Tell me what a wonderful father I am and how my kids are so lucky to have me.

So… I was just going to ignore this friend. Let’s call him Bob. I was just going to ignore Bob and all this bullshit but I was already in a shitty mood because of the court hearing and Cousinfucker’s request to modify his support. Quite honestly I’m tired of taking it on the chin and I’m tired of everyone acting like what he’s done is no big deal. I’m tired of his pity plays. Instead of ignoring it this time I replied.

I’m sure the four children he lives with appreciate the sentiment. I hope they see it and thank him appropriately although I’m not sure why he needs to post it on Facebook seeing as how he lives with them and sees them everyday.

Snarky? Yes. Did it feel good? You betcha!

Reaching Out, Part 2

I said yesterday that the only person to reach out had been the cousin. That’s not entirely true.

The sister-in-law that I put on restricted did send me a message a few months ago saying hello and asking how everything was going, but I dismissed it.

She had sent me a message last August, 3 days after I found out that Cousinfucker had been having an affair. I knew at that point he had brought the whore with him to the funeral so she would have seen him with her. I would hope at that point she would ask where the kids and I were! She asked me how the pool water was feeling and asked about the kids. I didn’t reply because as I said, I figured she already knew about Cousinfucker and the whore so why on earth was she asking these questions? I’m not enjoying my pool at all! My husband is having yet another affair with Harley. My life, and the lives of my kids, have been thrown into turmoil. I’m headed for divorce with a mortgage that we’ve had less than a year, a car loan that we’ve had less than a year, a pool that had been filled for 6 days and still wasn’t paid off, and a house full of brand new furniture that I’m going to have to get rid of. How do you think I’m doing?

About a month later she messaged me again, letting me know she wanted to buy fundraiser shirts from Rock Star. We exchanged a little bit of chit chat, including I love you’s. She and her husband have both been having some significant health problems so I asked about that and she told me all that was going on with them.

Another two weeks later I let her know the shirts hadn’t come in yet and asked how they were doing. He had had to have some surgery. We talked about that and I sympathized over everything they were going through. She asked how we were all doing and how our new state was. She made another mention of the pool. Again, we exchanged I love you’s and there was never a mention about Cousinfucker and the fact that he was in fact fucking his cousin.

About a month later, in November, I sent her a message double checking on her address because her shirts had come in and I was mailing them. I never heard back from her until early this September when she said hello and asked how we were all doing. She’s friends with the whore on Facebook. She’s friends with Cousinfucker who has a picture of him and the whore as his profile picture. She knows what Cousinfucker is doing. How does she think we are all doing? We’ve been forced out of our home and had to relocate yet again! He’s a deadbeat that isn’t paying even his court ordered child support! I wouldn’t go so far as to suggest that she’s digging for dirt for him. I don’t think she’s that kind of person. But anyone that can substitute that fucking whore for me and my kids is not someone I can count on as being in my corner.

He Doesn’t Look Unhappy

Ugg! Cousinfucker’s profile picture popped up on my mom’s Facebook feed as “someone she might know”. Oh she knows that piece of shit all right!

Even better? His new profile picture is a picture of him and the whore together. Isn’t that sweet? I don’t even want that waste of skin but it still boggles the mind! Who does that? He’s not even divorced and he’s got a picture of the two of them up on Facebook, showing her off to the world. Hey! Look at me and my whore! Yeah, I’m married; I’ve abandoned my kids. No biggie! I’m happy and that’s what matters! It makes me sick to my stomach. I’m thankful Picasso doesn’t have Facebook and that Rock Star has him blocked. Otherwise they would both be subjected to that bullshit and Rock Star would be going off once again.

You know what else pisses me off? I set up his Facebook account for him. He had it for over a year before deactivating it. Never once did he have a picture of the two of us up. I was married to that shit eating chimp for twenty years and he never bothered to put a picture of ME up; he fucks this whore for a year and she’s part of his profile picture.

I realize it sounds petty but it’s those small things that chip away at your self-confidence. It’s having his family always commenting on the whore’s profile pictures, telling her how pretty she is, how beautiful she is (she isn’t), and then not saying anything to me or making an off-hand comment. She got: You’re sooooooo pretty. I got: That hairstyle is becoming on you. Wow. Thanks. It’s him never commenting on anything I said and never posting pictures of me, but then interacting with her and posing for pictures with her. When asked about that his excuse was, “But I see you at home every day.”

Regardless, Cousinfucker does not look unhappy. He doesn’t look like he’s crying every day, which is what he told our daughter at one point. He doesn’t look like he’s suffering from PTSD. He looks fine. He looks like he should be getting his ass to work and paying me what he owes me! Otherwise, the next profile picture he’s going to be putting up is his mugshot!

Things I Worry About Today

Yesterday was a melancholy day for some reason.  I thought maybe writing out some of my worries might help to alleviate them.  Worst case scenario I can look back in a year or two and laugh.  “Oh, Sam, can you believe you ever worried about *that*?”

I worry about what I’m going to do when we’re finally divorced.  I’ll have no insurance.  No prescription coverage.  No dental.  No vision.  I’m a relatively healthy person but it would be just my luck that when I have no insurance I would be suddenly hit with a catastrophic accident or illness.

I worry about the house and what’s going to happen there.  On the one hand I know I don’t want to stay here for the long term.  I’m hoping for another 2 1/2 years.  By the time we are finally divorced it will be less than 2 years I’ll need a place to stay around here.  I don’t want to be left trying to sell the house on my own.  Quite frankly I think if we end up taking a loss he should be responsible for 100% of it seeing as how it was his own bone-headed, erection-driven decisions that led to us selling 2-3 years after buying it.  I also know I absolutely cannot refinance the house in my name alone, and even if we did a quit claim (?) I’m back to the whole “I don’t want to be responsible for selling the house and dealing with any repairs plus any huge financial losses”.  But I’m also not sure where I can rent in my kids’ school district that will also accept pets.  Did I mention I have 3 dogs and 3 cats?  See, I used to own my own home and I kind of arranged my life around that.  I didn’t make decisions based upon, “What if my husband leaves me for his skank ass cousin?”  This is now my dilemma. My hope is that the divorce is not finalized until late this year and that a judge, if it goes to court, will give me 12-18 months before I need to put the home up for sale.

I worry about what’s going to happen when my daughter graduates.  I know I still have time, but a year ago I would have said that she was going to have a fabulous party and we’d give her a wonderful graduation gift- probably a destination trip.  Now I have no idea what I’m going to be able to do.  Graduation gift?  Don’t make me laugh.  I’ll be lucky if I manage to scrape together enough money to throw a graduation party for her- a graduation party that will be sparsely attended for that matter.  I have like 3 friends here- 2 of them have daughters that will have already graduated by the time mine does so I’m not sure how much I’ll be interacting with them.  Most of my friends are in YYY state.  Cousinfucker and his family won’t be in attendance.  I’m going to have a party with less than 20 people in attendance.  For a graduation.  I’m thinking she will be better off just going out to dinner with us.  That goddamn motherfucking pig shit wearing waste of oxygen breathing cousinfucker has taken all this away from my child!  And I hate him for that.  I honestly do not care about him at all as a husband.  Run away, Cousinfucker!  Go fuck your cousin and tell your mommy all about it.  But DO NOT FUCK WITH MY KIDS!  I’m thinking about the graduation announcements and senior pictures.  Hell, do we need to rent or buy caps and gowns?  I graduated over 25 years ago; I honestly don’t remember what we did, and even if I did I’m sure it has changed.

I worry that my kids will have issues down the road.  And I sometimes wonder if my son is taking this too well.  Sometimes I tell myself that it is the benefit of having a father who wasn’t very involved anyway; the kid doesn’t miss him.  But other times I wonder, “Is it natural to be this blasé about your father’s disappearance in your life?”  My son has actually told people, “My dad is dead to me.”  He cares nothing about him.  My daughter is still willing to text him in order to get her allowance or to wish him a happy birthday or even to thank him for the Christmas gift.  My son?  Does.Not.Care.  He’s said outright he does not care if his dad ever gives him another dime.  He tells me there’s nothing he needs.  When I told him he needed to at least text his dad to thank him for the gift card he told me he didn’t have his number; he had deleted him from his contacts.  And he has mentioned more than once that he can no longer trust his dad, that he thinks his dad just used him to try to get him on “his side”, as my son puts it.

Honestly, I figured if one of the kids was more reluctant to take sides it would be him.  He longed for a relationship with his dad.  But he’s the one that he has really distanced himself.  That boy could give classes on No Contact.  My daughter is more practical.  She’s willing to deal with her dad in order to get her allowance and her long promised car.

That brings me to my next worry.  Her having a car would really help me out.  She could drive herself to her own practices.  She could drive herself and her brother to school.  That would give me a little more freedom in regards to getting a job.  However, my guess is Cousinfucker is once again going to plead poverty when it comes time to buying her a car.  Let’s give the poor guy a break.  He’s already promised a car to Harley’s daughter and it’s really tough buying two cars.  If you have to choose between your whore’s kid and your own child what sensible person is going to choose their own?  Am I right?  And seeing as how I’m already paying *his* car insurance I’m not seeing where he’s going to stand up and pay for her car insurance.

I worry about her a lot.  I worry she’s putting too much pressure on herself.  I worry she won’t have good relationships with boys.  I worry about her migraines.  I worry about the anxiety she says she’s feeling.

I wonder (not worry) whether or not I’ll be alone for the rest of my life.  Will I ever find someone else?  Someone who will treat me right.  Someone who will want to go places with me and do things with me.  Someone who will want to be a part of my family.  Someone who will embrace my kids and enjoy hanging out with them, too. Someone who isn’t a drama queen.  Someone who isn’t a miserable shit eating chimp and who won’t bring everyone around him down with him.  Someone who won’t fuck his cousin.  It’s those little things, ya know?

Honestly, I know I don’t *need* another man in my life.  If I look back over the last twenty-one years I feel like I was pretty much on my own the entire time.  I guess maybe we had a good five years before kids came along and he became a gigantic pain in my ass.  Becoming a parent changed my life.  It didn’t seem to change his, though.  And that’s where the problem is.  He still wanted a doting wife that tended to his every need.  After I took care of everything else.

But I would *like* to have someone I could share my life with.  It would be nice, as I said above, if there was someone out there who was willing to go places with me, do things with me.  When I am reluctant to do something, or don’t have the energy to do something, it would be nice to have someone cheering me on.  “Come on, Sam; it will be fun!  I’ll be right there with you.”  Instead I got, “Okay, let’s just go home.”  Or even better, he just wasn’t there to begin with.

I see friends who have husbands that actually *interact* with them and with the kids.  I think that would be nice.  Not a necessity but nice.  The guy that is, not the interaction.

In the end it’s all the not knowing that worries me the most.  I suppose time will tell.  Here’s to hoping that when I look back on this list in a year I’ll be able to laugh.

Some Days I (Want To) Cry, and Others I’m Just Pissed Off

 

It is no secret I’m a big fan of Chump Lady.  And if you don’t know that by now I am obviously not gushing over her enough.  I think she rocks.  She has explained a number of times that she uses the language that she uses on her blog to get people angry, to jolt “chumps” out of their chumpdom.  I say, “Thank God!”  Because I do tend to try to stay very level headed.  I try very hard not to let him get to me and not to let the rage simmer over into a full boil.  It would be so easy to let the rage consume me and let myself completely lose control and go ape shit on his ass.  But I don’t.  I’m looking long range.

There are times though that I get really pissed.  It pisses me off when I think of how blithely he lied to me.  He flat out lied to my face without a second thought.  He waltzed into our bedroom and announced he was thinking of birthday gift ideas for his mom and perhaps he would get her and his stepdad new phones and pay the bill since they only had pay as you go phones.  LIAR!  But, man, was he smooth as silk.  I had no idea my husband could lie to me that easily.

I texted him all summer while the kids and I were away visiting friends and family.  Every morning (or most mornings, I should probably say) I would snap a picture and send it to him with a little message.  Usually that message was simply, “Hi,” or “Good morning.”  And every day he played along, despite the fact that he was texting his whore and probably jerking off to her messages.  We talked about sex and looking forward to it once I got back home.  LIAR!  He just kept conning me.

He callously allowed me and his therapist to “coach” him through his drive for a supposed business trip.  I say supposed because there is some doubt that he was on this trip by himself.  Regardless, we coached him and stroked his ego and told him how he was a big boy and he could do this!  And he probably walked out of there thinking we were two of the biggest idiots he had ever encountered.  Motherfucker!

He casually mentioned going to his mom’s after the business trip.  You know, because he was so close to her house and he could just never forgive himself if he didn’t make the trip.  In hindsight he wasn’t that much closer to her house when he was on the so called business trip than when he was at our house.  Again with the lies.  Again doing it so casually.  And yes, that pisses me off.  To think that he was filled with such hubris.  That he thought he was so much better and so much smarter than me.  To think about all the ways he was pulling the wool over my eyes and not losing one bit of sleep over it.  Like an idiot I fully supported him, told him I had no problem with that.  He even had the audacity to ask me, “Are you sure you won’t be mad?”  I replied, “Of course not.  She’s your mom!”  Joke’s on me because dear old mom had already encouraged Harley to give her dear son a call, and there was a family reunion that they all attended.  HIS family wasn’t there.  Hell, we weren’t even informed about the event.  But he was there, and Harley was there, and they were hooking up a year to the day that our furniture was delivered to our new house from across the country.  You sonofabitch!  You had better thank your lucky stars that I haven’t had a chance to get down to New Orleans because once I do I’m buying a voodoo doll and I’m cursing your ass!

I get pissed when I think about him telling bald face lies all summer long about how he’s helping his mom out with grocery money and using his niece as a cover story.  “Oh, I’ve got to help them.  She’s my niece.  She’s young and she has a baby and she’s pregnant again.  Mom can’t keep up with feeding her and her boyfriend.  I’ve just gotta help!”  And because I’m a nice person, a kind and loving person, a big-hearted person, I thought nothing of it.  Of course we’ll help.

I think that’s the part that chaps my ass the most.  He used everything that I knew about us as a couple and who we were and used that against me.  We did help out our relatives.  I’m not saying we were dropping hundred dollar bills on them constantly, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary  for us to buy groceries, pay rent, send care packages, offer to pay a dentist bill, pay for airfare…  That’s why it was so easy for him to lie to me and get all of this by me.  You want to buy your mom a phone and pay her bill?  OK, that sounds reasonable.  It’s not like we haven’t paid her rent , bought her groceries, made a car payment for her, or “loaned” her money before.  We’ve got it so why not?  You want to send your mom money for groceries?  OK, that sounds reasonable.  You sent her $500 to repair her car?  Um, ok.  You sent her $500 again?  For what purpose?  And then you turned around and supposedly paid $172 for a single fucking tire at a Walmart in the whore’s town?  This is getting suspicious.

But no!  He didn’t know why that charge came up as Whoreville!  It was supposed to be some other town, much closer to his mom.  And he gave her more money because he just knew they were really hurting and needed it.  His mom didn’t ask for it, of course.  He’s such a good son he simply gave it to her because he could anticipate a need.

Yes, that shit pisses me off.  Again, you entitled jackass!  He LIED right to my face, disrespected me, disrespected our kids, our marriage, our everything.  And he used our past and my good nature to sell that lie.

I get pissed when I think about him refusing to take our daughter to his cousin’s funeral because that was just a front to go fuck his cousin.  I get pissed when I think about how, once again, he told me one bald faced lie after another.  What was supposed to be a quick one day trip turned into a five day adventure.  He was supposed to leave on Thursday, attend the funeral on Friday and return that day.  Instead he left on Thursday, told me on Friday that the funeral had been switched to Saturday (but by golly he swears they told him Friday!), and then plans to come home on Sunday.  When I ask him on Sunday, around 3 if he’s heading back soon he tells me he’s not leaving until 8.  What????  This is a man who had to be coached to drive on his business trip less than a month ago.  This is a man who until recently claimed that just driving to work (a mere 10-15 minutes away) was causing him great distress and anxiety.  Now, not only can the enflamed baboon’s ass drive hours and hours, he can even drive in the dark!  Praise Jesus!  It’s a miracle!  But wait!  It gets better.  I get a text at 11:00 at night letting me know he accidentally left with his mom’s keys in his briefcase.  Oh, how silly you are, Baboon Ass!  What a cute story!  Your mom’s keys are in your briefcase because you drove to the funeral.  On Saturday.  And your mom never needed her keys again between Saturday and Sunday.  Oh, that’s a laugh riot.  Now, he has to turn around and go back to Mommy’s house where he will spend the night.  He will come home the next day.  Yet somehow he doesn’t manage to get his ass home until after 5 in the afternoon.  It’s a 6 hour drive.  It also culminated in him rear ending a truck and him needing his own car repaired.  What’s wrong, Boo?  Were you thinking of sliding between your whore of a cousin’s thighs and forget to stop at the light?  Serves you right.  Too bad you weren’t going 70 mph when you slammed into it.  Hey, I told you I was pissed.

All those lies told to me and not one ounce of regret.  He could lie like a pro and not blink an eye.  That pisses me off.  It infuriates me.  You know why?  Because he’s saying, “You’re so stupid I can tell you anything and you’ll believe it.”   That’s insulting.  No, you flaming turd shot straight from Satan’s ass, I wasn’t DUMB; I was TRUSTING.  I trusted my lying, cheating husband of almost 21 years to be honest and faithful.  I misjudged your character.  I thought you had some and it turns out that much like your hair, you don’t have any.  He used our past and my kindness and understanding against me and then has the balls to believe it’s all because he’s such an impressive person who is so much smarter than the average bear.  Word to the wise, don’t ever mistake my trust and kindness for weakness.

I get pissed when I think about how he would SLEEP with his phone, and then make up lies.  “I don’t want to miss a call from my mom; I was afraid I wouldn’t hear it.”  What are you- six years old and away at sleep away camp for the first time?  Was he afraid I would find it and read their nasty ass texts?  You had a thumb print passcode, you jackass!  That was probably a huge lie, too.  “Oh, the company wants us to have our phones password protected so that if we ever lose them proprietary information is safe.”  Just to up the ante and play on my good nature he offered to add my thumb print as well.  “I trust you.”  Sam, you were an idiot of proportions so huge I can’t even begin to find an appropriate adjective.  You were off the charts stupid!  Yes, that’s me talking to myself.

I get pissed when I think about him boldly texting her AT OUR HOME, IN OUR BEDROOM and then lying to me when I ask him who on earth he’s texting that late at night.  “Oh, I’m not texting.  I’m playing Words With Friends.”  Seriously?  You don’t think I know the difference between a text screen and a game screen?

Then I get pissed at myself because I think to myself, “Why were you such an idiot?”  I don’t know!  Yes, I do.  I didn’t want to believe he could be cheating on me again.  I didn’t want to believe he could blow up our lives like that.  I liked my life.  I wanted to keep it.  So I buried my head in the sand and I believed even when I shouldn’t have.  It reminds me of the time we went to the zoo and watched as this chimp would stick his finger in his ass and pull out a shit-covered finger.  He would look at the finger, cock his head, sniff it, and then EAT the shit off of his finger.  Over and over again.  We stood there transfixed for more than a few minutes before we had to turn away.  He’s my shit eating chimp.  I couldn’t walk away!

I get pissed when I think about him checking me out only days after his return from the funeral and getting a hard on looking at me.  You fucking pig dipped in cow shit covered with flies and maggots!  You’re fucking your white trash cousin!  Don’t be checking me out.  I wouldn’t let you touch me if your dick was encrusted with diamonds!  I wonder though, would it piss you off to know that the reason I was so dressed up that day was because I was going to visit a lawyer to see what my rights were and how much you would end up paying me in child support?  Because I did.  Yes, you see, the very next day after I discovered you were back to fucking around with little Miss Harley I started calling lawyers.  I didn’t fuck around this time.  I started lining up my ducks.

I get pissed when I think about him taking off only a few days later to visit “his best friend.”  I mean, it was only fair since his friend had come to see him last time.  This time it was his turn.  Oh, had he forgotten to tell me that this was the weekend he was going?  He thought I knew.  And, of course, he was planning on telling me goodbye but I had just taken such a long time on my errand that he needed to leave before I could get back.  No, Satan, I think you mean you waited until I left to run an errand so you could get your damn suitcase out to the car without me being any the wiser.  Thankfully, I was already on to him, though so I knew it was all a lie this time.  Nonetheless, it pisses me off every time I think of him asking me why I hadn’t sent him a picture of my boobs.  Um, because, Dickhead, you’re fucking your cousin.  It actually puts me into a white hot rage some days.  The hubris.  A man gets brave when he’s screwing a piece of strange, even when that piece of strange is a white trash, gold digging whore.  Considering I’ve been told he has shown naked pictures of me to the whore I wonder now what his purpose in asking me to send him those pictures was.  Did he want to show her?  Is she eyeing some plastic surgery to be equal to me?  Did he want to show her so they could laugh together about how stupid I was?  Did he just want to test me, to see how far he could push me even when he was being a cheating, lying dick?  I don’t know.  I don’t care.  it just pisses me off.

I get pissed off when I think of how he so blithely spends his work days here at this house and then packs his bags and leaves to spend the weekend with his mistress and her kids.  Seriously, is that some entitled shit or what?  Is he just daring me to say something to him?  She can have you and all of your issues, too.  But it is still some entitled bullshit with a side of “Fuck You” tossed in.

I get pissed off when I think of all the money he has given to her, or spent on her.  That and the fact that he had the audacity to tell our son I “took all his money”.  No, Asshole, I simply made it more difficult for you to continue giving Harley every cent we had.

Similarly, I get pissed off when I think of him telling me, “I’m not going to continue to allow you to steal every dime I make!”  You wouldn’t be making the kind of money you make now if it weren’t for me, you lying, cheating douchebag.  And I didn’t steal YOUR money.  That was OUR money and you were giving it to YOUR WHORE without MY permission.

Simply looking at his pathetic face pisses me off most days.  I suppose it’s a good thing he does slink in and out of the house.

I was pissed off the day he told me, “This can still be civil.”  Fuck that!  I’ve been civil, you pompous, self-righteous incestuous bastard!  Very, very civil.

I get pissed off when I think about him trying to paint himself as the victim to our kids.  How dumb do you think they are?  This isn’t your mommy and your sister.  Those two idiot enablers don’t live with you, but your kids do.  They’ve been here for the last fifteen and thirteen years.  They know exactly what’s gone on in this house and how you’ve acted.  Your daughter called you out on your shit and your son doesn’t believe a word that you say.

I get pissed off when I think of him telling me, “Why don’t you use some of that money you took to pay the bills?” and then smirking, “Someone’s angry,” when I let loose on him.  I understand why the show, “Snapped” exists.

I think sometimes my biggest regret is not raging against him.  I sometimes wish I had Facetimed him when he was “visiting his best friend” and told him I knew, showed him the picture of his car.  Busted!  I wish I had told him not to come home and that I had thrown all of his shit on the front lawn with a big ol’ sign that said:  Cheater lives here! I moved my entire family across the country so I could fuck my cousin!  Along with a lot of smaller signs simply saying:  A cheater lives at xxxx YourStreet!  Enjoy fucking your whore the rest of the weekend, you asshole!

I get pissed off when I think about him giving a performance of a lifetime as Daddy of the Year for her four kids while he neglects his own.  I realize his relationship (or lack of one) with his kids is his own.  He’s going to have to own it and they aren’t cutting him any slack.  But it still pisses me off.  All these fucking years he shut himself away in his bedroom and left me to fend for myself as a single parent.  He fucks a whore and it suddenly jumpstarts his paternal instinct, although honestly, I think he’s just putting on a very good act.  He’ll get tired of it eventually.  And it pisses me off (and makes me a little bit sad for my kids) when I think of how she brags to people about what a wonderful father he is.  Is he?  Because his own kids don’t think he’s doing such a bang up job.  In fact, they’ve said he sucks as a dad.  But it’s so good to hear he’s treating your kids well.  I suppose when you’re fucking their mommy and she’s still married to their daddy you need to be especially nice to them.  What better way than to buy them off?

I get pissed when I think back to asking him for money to buy a Homecoming dress for our daughter and him telling me he didn’t have the money at this time; he’d have to give it to me next paycheck.  Yet somehow he was able to pay over $300 for a dress for a kid that isn’t his.

I get pissed when I think of how he’s ignoring his kid’s text messages, asking if he’s going to give them their allowances, because he’s too much of a chicken shit to actually admit that he’s not.  Now that he actually has to pay support he is apparently going to take the position of:  I pay child support and that should cover everything you need.  Ever.  That, despite the fact that he has NO BILLS outside of his support payment.  He lives here rent free, pays no utilities, pays no share of the marital debt, has no cell phone bill, no car payment, doesn’t even pay his car insurance.  I get a lump sum and I pay for EVERYTHING out of my money.  But he can’t cough up any extra for a yearbook.  Hey, here’s an idea.  Take that $200+ you spend each month on Harley and her daughter’s cell phone bill and use THAT to pay for your kids’ allowances!  Instead of blowing $300 on a damn dress for her daughter maybe use that money to treat your own damn kids!

I get pissed off when I think about how I’ve done all the grunt work over the years to get him to where he is and she’s going to plant her ass in one place, never moving her kids or her own self and he’s going to work around her.  Or at least that’s the plan.  Wonder how well that will work once he begins his new job and realizes he hates that one just as much as he hates this one because once again he has a boss?  That boss might have the balls to tell him no, or to overrule him on something or not let him have his way on everything.  Then he realizes in order to keep his pussy supply going he can’t move very far and now he’s stuck.  Boo hoo.  I feel so bad for you, CF.

I get pissed when I think about how he never arranged his jobs around OUR lives and US.  No, we were always expected to go wherever he took us.  But now, now he’s all about looking close to wherever the pussy is.  And how ridiculous is it that he was looking at a job smack dab in the middle of both of our home towns?  Seriously?  For over twenty years you couldn’t manage to look in that city which would have put us 2 1/2 hours away from your family and 3 hours away from mine?  That was too overwhelming for you but somehow you can now take on a divorce, your kids hating you, trying to sell a house (probably at a loss) with no guaranteed buyout, and a job change?  Once again, alert the fucking press because a miracle has occurred!

I get pissed when I think about the fact that he could have been promoted instead of us making another lateral move, thousands of miles away, destroying our lives.  But no, that all came to a screeching halt the first time he was fucking around with the dumb bitch and they came up with their little plan to move all of us closer (Why all of us?  Couldn’t he have moved and left us behind?).  He started the wheels turning way back then and we all got stuck with it.  So, instead of us remaining where we were, living the lives we loved while he was promoted and traveled, essentially rendering him a weekend husband and father, we’re here in BFE.  She’s the one that gets the weekend partner and father, instead of us.  Come to think of it, one of the reasons he gave for not wanting to travel so much was he didn’t want to miss out on his kids’ lives.  O.M.G.  That is hysterical!  He doesn’t seem to give two shits about his kids and what they want or what they’re doing.  And isn’t he basically doing the exact same thing he said he didn’t want to do?  It’s just that instead of staying at a Hilton or a Marriott, he’s staying in the family home while he’s away at work and then he drives the six hours to spend the weekend with his fake family.

I get pissed when I think of how casually he told me he was “grateful” to me for moving all over the country for him and his job.  Grateful?  How about acknowledging the fact that you’d still be a fucking 2nd shift supervisor if not for me?  Or perhaps a superintendent if you were very lucky.  The fact that I was willing to relocate instead of stomping my feet and insisting that I couldn’t be moved away from my family meant that you got to “self-promote”, as you liked to call it.  But he’s grateful.

Just like he also “respects me as a mother.”  Considering the fact that I’m the one that has done all of the parenting I would sure as hell hope you respect that.  Not to mention the fact that you run off every weekend to go fuck a whore and play family with her kids, leaving your kids with me.  I would hope you respect me as a mother seeing as how you LEFT YOUR FUCKING KIDS WITH ME DURING A STATE OF EMERGENCY DUE TO A HURRICANE!  And then again during a blizzard (also after a state of emergency had been called).

It pisses me off when I think of everything he has put all of us through.  We all gave up so much for HIM, to make HIM happy.  The end result is he didn’t give a shit.  It was never enough.  My daughter could have been a collegiate athlete; he took that away from her.  So HE could be happy.  My son is not happy here; he’s given up all of his friends, the one sport he loved to play, and the cello.  Again, all for his father’s wishes and desires.  My daughter is suffering- frequent migraines, anxiety, possible depression.  She has lost her drive.  My son is miserable here and wants to go back to YYY state.  I left behind friends.  I dropped all my activities.  For HIM.  Because he was unhappy where we were.  So I did what I always did and told him we would all go wherever he wanted to go.  My mother has said more than once that he couldn’t have left us in any worse financial shape.  Seriously- who the fuck puts an expensive inground pool in their backyard and then leaves their family?  A selfish asshole, that’s who!  He moves us here and now he’s planning on leaving?  WTF!  It’s like he dropped a bomb on our lives and once we had partially rebuilt them he tosses in a few hand grenades.  SURPRISE!

It pisses me off when I think of how he thinks he’s just going to walk away from all responsibilities.  He doesn’t worry about who is taking care of the kids.  He doesn’t worry about who will watch the dogs when he goes away.  Doesn’t give a shit who will watch them if we go away.  He isn’t worrying about finding another house in the kids’ school district, or one that will accept pets.  Hell, he’s not even concerned about getting our backyard back into shape in order to sell this damn place, and he sure as shit isn’t planning on doing any of the cleaning or chauffeuring dogs around when it’s time to show the house.  Nope, he’s free and clear.  He’s a bachelor with no kids, no pets, no responsibilities.  He’s planning on ME doing all the heavy lifting, just like I always have.

If I think way back to when I found out about him and Harley the first time it pisses me off to think of how *I* was the one who was expected to change and dance for him.  Oh, baby, tell me what I can do to make this all better?  What do I need to do so you don’t feel the need to seek out other women?  Let me know how I failed you so that I may improve.  You know who should have had a list of things to work on?  You!  You should have been the one dancing like mad, trying to woo me and win me back.  You should have been doing everything you possibly could have to keep me happy and to make me want you because YOU are the one that fucked up.  Not me!  Here’s the kicker, folks- I wouldn’t even want him to feel like he had to constantly prove himself to me.  I never wanted him to dance for me.  But if one of us is going to have a list I think it should be ME presenting a list to HIM.  I didn’t cheat.  I didn’t lie.  Instead he let me know what all *I* could do.  Unfortunately, I was so stupid I went along with it.  I wanted to save my marriage.  I wanted to prevent my kids from growing up with divorced parents.  In hindsight I should have kicked his sorry ass to the curb and got on with my life.  In YYY state, with my daughter still competing in gymnastics, my son still playing hockey, and me still surrounded by great friends and a support network.

In a similar vein it pisses me off when I think of how he would plead for me to “just leave her alone; let her and her husband work things out for themselves while we work on our own stuff.”  Or how he explained the text she sent to him and his wimpy response.  He didn’t want to hurt her anymore; he felt bad because he knew he had already hurt her when he picked me.  Oh, barf!  She was your potential fuck buddy for less than four months.  I’d been your wife for over 18 years at that point.  He is a liar and a coward and a cheat.

It pisses me off whenever I think about the fact that while he was more than willing to stick up for his whore he refused to stick up for me.  I would let him know it bothered me that his family continued to fawn over the dumb whore and his response was always, “I can’t control them,” or “What am I supposed to do?  They’re grown adults.”  He refused to talk to them about their behavior, instead expecting me to just get over it.  And of course, whining about me not wanting to have a relationship with his traitorous family.  Even when I could overhear his mom telling him how she wanted to work on her relationship with me he wouldn’t ‘fess up and tell her straight out:  Stop interacting with Harley!

It pisses me off every time I think about how he would throw me under the bus with his many fucking lies to anyone who would listen.  He was always the victim and he loved to paint me as a heartless, vicious bitch.  He never corrected any of the fallacies.  Oh no, that might jeopardize his victim stance!  He actually had the gall to tell another sister that I filed for divorce and he had no idea why!  Um, that’s a lie, but if we’re going to go down this route then might I suggest you read your damn divorce papers?  I told you exactly why; I even gave her name and listed her address.

Then he turned around and told this same sister I threw out all of his clothes.  Because he never corrects his inaccurate statements I’m sure everyone in his circle still believes to this day that I’ve thrown out all of his clothes despite the fact that they were all nicely hung up in the guest bedroom.  You see, Cousinfucker fully intended to remain in the master bedroom, watching TV on the 42” TV, sipping wine, texting his whore while I slept on the couch or in the guest bedroom.  He, the cheater, would retreat to his spacious suite all during the week and then on the weekends he would leave to fuck his whore, returning back to the master bedroom sometime Sunday evening or Monday morning.  Unfortunately for him he made the mistake of accusing me of stealing “every dime he made”.  Picture me as Julia Roberts in “Pretty Woman”:  Big mistake.  Huge!  I kicked his worthless ass out of the master bedroom; I wheeled his dirty clothes into the guest room and moved all his shit out of the closet that weekend.  I think I should get bonus points for actually hanging them up instead of throwing them out onto the lawn.

It pisses me off when I think about HIS MOTHER encouraging Harley to call him.  What kind of an idiot encourages her son’s whore to give him a call because he’s “so sad”?  Seriously??? Don’t you think maybe that’s something you should be discussing with his WIFE?  Oh no!  Let’s call up the whore and see if she can work her magic.

It especially pisses me off when I think of her sitting in my kitchen asking me why we aren’t Facebook friends and telling me that she wants our relationship to go back to the way it was when we were so close, talking about how CF and I have been together for 20 years and that’s a long time.

It pisses me off that she can then turn around and write on my daughter’s Facebook page that she loves her with all of her heart even with everything that’s going on and then beg her not to shut her out.  YOU CAUSED THIS, YOU DUMB BITCH!  Your granddaughter is going through hell because you chose to enlist the help of her father’s whore instead of talking to his wife, her mother.  You have condoned this.  You’ve welcomed her with open arms.  You’ve basically told both of your grandchildren, “Deal with it!”

It pisses me off when I think of *everyone* who has been working behind the scenes to help destroy our marriage.  There was his “best friend” who so helpfully told him about my other page.  Did he really think that was going to help CF?  I mean, I realize I’m just the woman who has lived with him for over 20 years (incidentally, that is longer than anyone else in his life) so as his college roommate he undoubtedly knew CF way better than I did.  Let’s fast forward and get to the conclusion:  No, it didn’t help.  In fact, it put him into a suicidal state.  Was the best buddy around for that?  No.  He had his own life to live.  Just let the cold hearted bitch take care of him.  He actually had the gall to hug me the last time he saw me, all the while undoubtedly encouraging my husband to trade me in for a newer model.

There was his sister who begged him to leave me, who told him he deserved so much better than me.  Where was she when he was in the hospital?  Oh, that’s right!  She left him with that horrible wife and never bothered to come visit him.  At least now she’s not the only one who has cheated and left her spouse for another.  Welcome to the club, baby brother!

Going back even further it pisses me off when I think about how he wanted me dependent upon him and how nonchalantly he went about achieving that goal.  And it really pisses me off when I think of him wasting 20 plus years of my life, making me dependent upon him, and then discarding me like yesterday’s trash once he has decided he’d rather build a life with his cousin.

If I’m honest with myself this whole situation pisses me off.  Being moved 2000 miles across the country, our lives systematically dismantled for his amusement (and happiness, of course; can’t forget his happiness), money poured into a new house, new car, new furniture, new pool, all the things we promised our kids, the lies he told them about this brand new life out here, and then BOOM!  Lies, lies, lies.  As he blows up our lives completely.

THIS is precisely why I try so hard to take the high road and stuff all of this down.  No, not so much stuff it down.  I try to let it roll off my back, like water on a duck’s back.  This is somewhat ironic because I remember standing in the hair salon with my maid of honor and future sister-in-law, aka Jezebel, the morning of my wedding.  We were wearing button down shirts so as to not mess up our hair once it was done.  Our hair was brushed but that was all, and no makeup was worn.  I let my soon to be sister-in-law go first so my best friend and I were standing around talking.  To keep my emotions from welling up and to prevent the tears from falling I kept saying, “I’m a duck.  I’m a duck.  It’s all like water off a duck’s back.”  Who knew that I’d be saying that again at the end of our marriage?  Such irony.  Can we call that the circle of life?  I digress.

I let it all roll off of me, keeping only enough to power me through to do what needs to get done, because if I didn’t I would be consumed by the rage of everything he has done.  Voodoo dolls would be the least of his concerns.  Another Jedi would fall to the Dark Side.  I’ve got kids to raise; I don’t have time for that shit!  So… I let it roll off my back and only every now and then do I allow myself to take a moment to dwell on the Dark Side.

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!

Whores and Hurricanes

You get a bonus entry today because that first one was so short.

Let me tell you a little story.  Some of you may find it very funny.  Some of you may find it very sad.  Some of you may find it very infuriating on my behalf, and for that, I thank you!

Anyway, a little background.  The STBX can never just get sick.  I don’t know if it’s a male thing because I do have a brother who has been known to cry out, “Call the ambulance!  I can’t hold on any longer!” whenever he’s sick.  My niece, his daughter, is the same way though so maybe it’s not a male thing.  Nonetheless, the STBX never has a simple cold, the simple flu, a simple migraine, a simple anything.  It’s always A MAJOR DISASTER!  One of the last times I was in charge of caring he came down with the flu.  For two days he puked and shit.  Sorry if that’s TMI.  He would tell me how weak he was. He was dizzy and could hardly walk or stand. He could barely make it from the bed to the toilet and back.   So so so weak.  I was sympathetic at the time.  I played nursemaid.  I bought him popsicles and Gatorade and chicken broth and did the whole Florence Nightingale thing. I checked on him, asked him if he needed anything, brought him whatever he asked for, wiped his brow.  The whole nine yards.  On the third day it had not let up so I called his doctor and asked if I should bring him in or take him to the ER.  Did you get that?  I CALLED THE DOCTOR!  This is important information for later.  I ended up taking him in and we both hear the nurse in the hallway say, “He looks like he’s about to die!” I’m sure this sent the drama queen into overdrive. “OMG, I’m going to die!  The nurse even said so and I’m so sick I can’t tell the difference between fact and hyperbole!” FYI (if it even needs to be said):  I was very sympathetic at the time.  This is not the way I reacted when he was actually going through this.  I was, as always, the dutiful wife, offering my husband a shoulder to lean on (literally!) and soothing his frantic mind by telling him everything was going to be ok.  The doctor comes in, tells him it’s probably viral, gives him a shot to stop the nausea and a prescription to stop the diarrhea. He tells him if he wants to go ahead and go to the ER for fluids he can and if it was him he probably would but it’s up to him.  He tells him if he continues puking and shitting to definitely go to the ER for fluids.  We pick up the prescription and head home.

Fast forward a few hours. There has been no more puking or diarrhea but he has decided he is just too weak and he needs to go to the ER.  OK, fine.  I think he even made some comment about how I can just drop him off.  Yeah, right.  First, I would never do that.  I’m a nurturer.  I’ve taken care of him for 20+ years; I’m not going to drop him off in the ER parking lot and say, “So long, sucker!”  Second, even if I were to drop him off and go back home to TAKE CARE OF OUR KIDS I would never hear the end of it.  I’m not stupid.  So, I take him to the ER, leaving our two kids to fend for themselves while I take care of him.  The kids were 12 and 14 at the time so not babies, toddlers or any other type of small child; however, I had planned on taking them to dinner and CF decided he couldn’t hold on any longer moments before we were getting ready to leave.  So, when I say I left them to fend for themselves, I was not kidding.  Add in the fact that despite their ages I’m still not wild about leaving them alone in the house at night; I was at the ER with him until almost 2 in the morning.  With a dead cell phone.  Back to the story…

We wait for probably 2 hours out in the waiting room and he finally gets a room where they hook him up to an IV and pump some fluids into him.  After several more hours the doctor comes in and tells him that one of his levels is still low. This means they have cause to admit him IF HE WANTS or he can go home if he would be more comfortable in his own bed and come back if he is still feeling weak.  He is mulling this over, trying to figure out what to do when I interject and tell him that he should let them admit him because if he goes home he’s just going to worry himself to death (oops, probably wrong choice of words).  Stay here, let them continue to give you fluids, and you’ll come home tomorrow.  Did you get that?  I SUGGESTED HE STAY IN THE HOSPITAL!  Again, this is very important information for later.

Approximately two weeks later he is telling his sister that not only was he DYING during those events, but also I had written that he was annoying me and wasting my time. When I say he told her he was dying he was not intending to exaggerate; he really meant it.  He told her he was literally dying and had to be filled with liter after liter of fluid.  “And the human body can only hold xxx liters of fluid! Just ask your husband!” A low potassium level has suddenly devolved into a life or death situation.  I can hear it now:  Code Blue, Room 666, Code Blue.  We’ve got a low potassium level.  We’re losing him! I need more saline NOW, dammit!  To be very clear I NEVER SAID OR WROTE THAT- EVER!  He also managed to turn a 36 hour stay (if you include time spent in the ER) into a two and a half day stay. Not to mention that he managed to turn a bout with the flu into a near death experience.

Now what on earth does any of that have to do with whores and hurricanes, you may be asking yourself?  I will tell you.

We were recently under a hurricane watch/warning.  We were on the lookout for flash floods and high winds.  We were supposed to lose electricity.  In short it was a rainy, dreary mess.  Do you want to guess who wasn’t around for any of this?  Who thought it was more pertinent to go hang with his whore than to stick around for his children whom he loves so much?  If you guessed the STBX you would be correct!  Yes, the same person who was whining about what a cold, heartless bitch I was, complaining about what a waste of time he was and how he was annoying me, when he was DYING in the hospital, is the same person who left his kids behind to go fuck his whore and play Daddy of the Year to her kids.  During a state of emergency and hurricane watch.  Folks, I think we all know when a nurse talks candidly to the doctor and says, “He looks like he’s about to die!” she doesn’t really mean he’s about to die.  It means the patient looks bad and she’s exaggerating for effect.  However, when the governor of your state stands before the media and says, “I”m declaring a state of emergency,” he’s not bullshitting!  With that in mind, let’s re-examine the facts.  I call the doctor for him with no prompting from him and take him to his appointment.  I later take him to the ER, sit with him for hours, and encourage him to stay because he’ll worry himself to death if he goes home.  I even take our kids to go visit him the next day and buy him a damn gift.  What did we get in the face of a fucking hurricane? Not a single text to either of his kids asking if they were ok over the course of the weekend. Not even a, “Bye, Felicia!”

I know that his version of his near death experience and my reaction to it never happened, but even if I had been irritated with him AT LEAST I WAS THERE!  There was the potential for very serious fall out from this hurricane and he’s off fucking his whore instead of being there for his kids!  Maybe I should go around telling everyone:  OMG!  There was a hurricane headed RIGHT FOR US and WE ALMOST DIED and he DIDN’T GIVE A FUCK!  Can you believe that?  Let me repeat:  WE ALMOST DIED!!!!  Our whole town flooded and the stores were bare and he told me it was more important that he be with the love of his life and his brand new insta-family than with his bratty kids that only thought of him as a wallet.  His life was finally looking up and he wasn’t going to stay behind and die with us!

I mean, that story has a kernel of truth to it.  The governor did declare a state of emergency and there was the *possibility* of the hurricane hitting the coast.  So, yeah totally, let’s say the damn thing was headed right towards us!  We were issued a flash flood warning and 46, almost 47 years ago, I believe it was the aftermath of Hurricane Camille that decimated a town only an hour from us so sure, let’s go with the town flooded.  That’s how he does it.  And Walmart was out of 2% milk and most of the bread so I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say the shelves were completely bare.  I mean really, why stick to the truth when lies are so much more convenient, so much more dramatic and thrilling?

I was also thinking about his near death experience and how he felt I wasn’t properly paying homage to him when I realized that someone who actually could have died was ME years ago when I had an ectopic pregnancy. I began spotting early in the pregnancy.  They took blood to check HCG levels and did ultrasound after ultrasound.  Transvaginal. They looked for over a week, I believe, and couldn’t find it.  When they did finally find it I WASN’T ALLOWED TO LEAVE THE FUCKING OFFICE UNTIL I HAD MADE A DECISION!  That’s when you know it’s some serious shit.  They don’t say:  Oh, well, it’s up to you.  You can go to the ER to have them put some fluids in you.  I probably would if I were you, but it’s up to you.  And they don’t say, once you’re at the ER, if you’re dying or in a really bad situation:  We can admit you if you’d like.  But if you’d be more comfortable at home in your own bed you can go home and come back if you relapse.  No, if you go to the doctor’s and you’re in a life or death situation, like, oh, say an ectopic pregnancy, they say:  Sure, you can call your husband and discuss it with him.  But you’re not leaving this office until you’ve either scheduled surgery to have it removed or you pull your pants down, bend over and get the methotrexate shot.

Would you like to hear what happened in this life or death situation? I bet if you think really hard you can probably guess what happened. I called my dear husband and told him what was going on, told him what my choices were, asked him to come be with me.  This was our third pregnancy loss in about 16 months. His reply was that he was at work, a major client was in and there was no way he could leave.  I believe he did tell me he was sorry.

Let me get this straight.  He apparently had reason to cheat on me because, in his own mind, he was DYING and I was not fawning over him enough, I suppose.  I was actually IN a life or death situation and he couldn’t even bother to fucking be there with me!  Say what you will about my bedside manner (and again, I NEVER wrote or said those things) AT LEAST I WAS THERE!  That’s a hell of lot more than he can say. He can continue to manufacture the truth to make it seem like I was a cold, heartless bitch that didn’t love him but he can’t ever say I wasn’t there.  I was there time after time.  He was rarely there for me.  And when it came time to choose between the whore or the hurricane… well, I guess he figured the kids and I could just ride that hurricane out if it came down to it.  He was going to be riding his whore and no hurricane was going to get in the way of that!