A Toast

Today would have been my 25th wedding anniversary. I’m not bemoaning the fact that I’m no longer married to Jerry Lee, but it does seem that 25 years would have been quite the accomplishment.

I always used to like to tell the story of how I was almost late for my own wedding. The hair stylists were in absolutely no rush to get me, Jezebel, or my maid of honor done. They keep assuring me, “Don’t worry, honey. You’re the bride; they’re not going to start without you.”

Once we were finally finished my maid of honor and I were speeding down one of our main streets at about 75 miles per hour, trying to get to the church on time. We ran past guests arriving at the church.

On the plus side I didn’t have a lot of time to get nervous or emotional. It was pretty much get there, get dressed, walk down the aisle.

Despite how it all turned out December 10, 1994 was a pretty good day. I was young and thin. My entire life was ahead of me and it was filled with endless possibilities. Everything was good that day. Everything was untouched, unvarnished, unsullied. It was a joyous occasion.

Jennifer Ball of The Happy Hausfrau has a Facebook page as well. What would have been her 26th wedding anniversary was about 2 weeks ago. She wrote a brilliant post that day.

Today would have been my 26th wedding anniversary. And for a couple of seconds I thought about writing something. Something about could have beens and what ifs.

And then I said F THAT. I poured myself a glass of wine… and decided to make a toast.

Today I’m going to follow in her footsteps (minus the wine because it’s late and it will put me to sleep) and give a toast of my own.

This year, almost two years after being officially divorced and four years after having been discarded I’m raising my glass high.

I’m raising a glass to the fact that I have survived. I spent a lot of time crying and a lot of time wishing for death but I’m still here, stronger than ever. I have hated most of what I have gone through and the things I’ve had to do, the changes I’ve had to make, but I did it and I am stronger than he will ever be. He didn’t defeat me. Stupid little me who had been out of the workforce for 15 years and was dependent upon him filed for divorce and left his ass.

I’ve survived living under the same roof as him for six months after discovering what a lying, cheating asshole he was. I survived a divorce that went on for two years. I survived him not paying any kind of support at all for 10 months. I survived him slashing child support in half. I’ve survived him cutting spousal support down on his own as well. I’ve survived his slurs against me, him hacking into my Facebook account, him trying to turn my kids against me, and him harassing the mobster.

I’m raising a glass in my honor because I have continued to do the hard work of raising two children by myself.

There are a lot of people out there who will argue that if your ex pays support you’re not a single parent and you’re not doing it on your own. I’ll be the first to tell you that the money definitely helps. I’ll also be the first to tell you to shut your fucking mouth when you bring that shit around.

He sends money, when he wants and how much he wants. But he’s never the one leaving work and running down to the ER to be with a sick kid. He’s never available to leave work to take a kid that has missed his bus to school. He’s never there to talk to his kids. He’s never there to take them to a friend’s house or run them to the mall or to take them out to eat. He doesn’t pick his son up after his various clubs get out every night of the week. He’s not running to the store and picking up lunch supplies. He’s not the one they come to with their problems, their joys, their achievements.

Rock Star is almost through her first year and a half of college. She’s driven and smart and she’s going to be an incredible nurse one day in the very near future. Picasso is once again getting a D in math and somehow does not have an A in orchestra. Nevertheless, he’s a good kid. He’s funny and kind and despite his grades he is a very smart kid. One day I have high hopes he will get his driver’s license. When that day comes I will be here to celebrate with him; his father will not.

I’m raising a glass to myself because I have finally realized how toxic Jerry Lee was and how hollow our relationship was. I realize now how small I made my needs over the years of being married to him, and have resolved to never do that again. I have the absolute best partner a woman could ask for. I’m so lucky in that regard. I think that definitely deserves a toast.

For the first time ever I’m with someone who is happy. I’m with someone who makes me happy.  I’m with someone who thinks I’m amazing and can do all things. I’m with someone who is romantic and who enjoys pleasing me and making me happy. I’m with someone who appreciates the things I do for him as well. I’m with someone who laughs at my jokes and listens to me ramble on about everything- Candy Crush, bad traffic, stupid fast food restaurants that mess up my order, that guy on the bicycle who insists upon riding into traffic on a busy road with no bike lane. I’m with someone who let’s me vent and doesn’t expect me to be happy all the time or to never get upset or disappointed. He treats me like an actual person and not just an extension of himself or as a wife appliance. I’m real and I matter.

I’m raising a glass to myself because I’m back in the workforce for the first time in 15 years. My mom retired at age 52. I will have been working again for 5 years at that point. I’m starting over when others are at the pinnacle of their careers and/or looking forward to retirement. It’s not glamorous or fulfilling. It certainly doesn’t pay well. But I’m here. I’m doing it. Who knows? Maybe one day I will actually work a job that pays me enough to live on.

I’m raising a glass to myself because I don’t ever have to keep pick me dancing anymore. Those goal posts aren’t going to continue to move. I don’t have to feel like I’m never good enough or that I’m always a disappointment.

I’m raising a glass and giving a toast because I’m getting there. I’m getting to a place of acceptance. I’m letting go of my old life. I’m no longer mourning as intensely as I once did. I’m trying to see the positives. Like how I get to regularly see my oldest friends now that I’m no longer living hundreds of miles away. Like how both of my kids will graduate from my alma mater. Like how living with my mom isn’t a death sentence. There is definitely an upside to living with her and having three generations under one roof.

I’m raising a glass because I can finally look back on the many experiences I have had throughout my life and be grateful for them, even if they did end. I loved my life and friends in Olive Branch. I loved my life and friends in Utah. I even enjoyed my life in Michigan and Virginia. But those were just chapters, not the whole story. There will be more chapters. More adventures. Hopefully more friends.

I’m raising a glass to my dogs- Beau, Laila, and Milo. All three of them helped me get through those first few months when I found out my life was tumbling down. They slept with me in that big king size bed, making it seem a little cozier. They were all by side. Many a nights I would fall asleep in the recliner of our sectional with Milo on my lap, Beau right beside me, and Laila on the couch. I didn’t sleep a lot in those first few months- a few hours here, a nap there.

They watched me as I stomped on my cake topper and my wine glasses, as I smashed things to smithereens.They comforted me while I cried and calmed me down when I thought I was losing my mind. My sweet Beau Beau is no longer with us but I’m toasting him anyway.

I’m raising a glass to all my friends who supported me throughout this ordeal. So many people called and texted to check on me. I returned the favor and called and checked on those who were also going through the same hell. I’m forever grateful to those who cared and who to this day continue to check on me. I’m grateful for their anger on my behalf. I’m grateful to them for lifting me up and telling me how wonderful I am and how awful he is. I’m grateful to my favorite backyard neighbor who has faithfully done my taxes every year since I’ve been divorced (or at least trying to get divorced). I’m grateful for the two friends who sent me birthday flowers on my birthday from hell the year after I was forced to leave my house and move back to Indiana. I’m grateful for the friend who sent me a huge wine basket filled with wine and various snacks on my first single Valentine’s Day in 20 years. Those are the people in my tribe. Cheers to you!

I’m raising a glass to this blog as well. I love that I get to tell my story. I have a forum to say whatever I want. I can cut through all the bullshit that accompanies cheating and divorce and reconciliation. I actually have people who read this thing. Hell, this blog is how I met the mobster. Let’s do a double shot for that! Thank you to all of you who are reading.

Finally, I’m raising a glass to myself because I got rid of a lying cheater. I don’t have to wonder anymore if he’s still in contact with her. I don’t have to worry about triggers related to them. I don’t feel bad anymore about our relationship because it’s over. I don’t ever feel like I’m settling anymore. I don’t cry about our relationship. I am never hurt over his treatment of me. I never have to sit there and think, “How can he say he loves me and then turn around and do that?” I never have to feel like I’m wasting my life or wonder if it ever gets better. I’m free. I know it gets better. I know there is more out there. I have it now.


Anniversaries and Milestones

It’s been a big week. Eh, actually a little more than a week. By the time this is published it will probably be a big 9 days.

August 10th marked the 3 year “anniversary” of finding out my life was collapsing around my feet. I’ve already written about that.

August 14th marked the 5 year “anniversary” of finding out my darling husband was still fucking around with his cunt face cum dumpster of a cousin. I know this because Facebook was so kind as to remind me of the big surprise I had for my daughter that day.

If you recall the story I found the message from The Saint the day of Rock Star’s birthday party. The only thing that I had managed to keep a secret from her was how we were getting to the reservoir that day. Up pulls a 14 passenger white Hummer limousine. I have her reaction on video.

August 15th I took my daughter to college. I helped her set up her room. I bought yet more crap for the dorm room. I ate lunch with her in the dining hall. And then I drove away, leaving a little piece of my heart on campus.

I didn’t cry. I had a few tears in my eyes as I was pulling out of the parking garage, but I quickly wiped them away. This is what is supposed to happen. I told myself that this is ultimately my job as a parent.

August 16th Picasso began his sophomore year. It was quite the adventure because there were a “few wrinkles” to iron out, as the transportation department likes to say. Basically, that translated into, “We’re sorry the bus didn’t come for your kid anywhere close to on time.”

I’m not sure when it did arrive because by 8 am he had texted my nephew to see if he could get a ride. The bus was supposed to arrive at 7:39 so I think he gave the driver ample opportunity to get to him.

The next day it was only about 10 minutes late picking him up, but at least it arrived and he wasn’t late for school.

Bonus- on the ride back he encountered one of his friends from middle school. I think I may have told you that he washed his phone in June so he’s lost all of his contacts. He was very happy to run into this person. It turns out she is part of an after school club at a different school but they allow students from all the area high schools to participate. They get together and play various board games, according to Picasso; he’s slightly interested in participating so that makes me happy.

Finally today, August 19th, is an anniversary of sorts for me and the mobster. Yet another one. We like anniversaries. He sent me beautiful flowers at work on Friday. He is always so sweet and thoughtful.

We were supposed to get together this weekend but he’s at a family wedding. He was going to look into flying me out there so I could attend with him, but it didn’t pan out. Plus, it has already been a crazy week, what with taking Rock Star down to college, Picasso starting school, and my mom taking off for Hawaii. I didn’t want to take off and leave him all by himself with all these changes happening.

That has been my crazy week plus a few days. How has yours been?




The Third Anniversary After Filing For Divorce

In honor of my anniversary yesterday, the 10th, and my latest Blast From the Past that talked about my first anniversary after filing for divorce I figured I would write a little something about my now third anniversary after filing for divorce.

Jeez freaking Louise! I never thought I would be able to say I’m celebrating my THIRD anniversary after filing for divorce. To be fair, there’s not much celebrating going on.

Last year I worked about 16 hours so I didn’t have a lot of time to think about what the day was. I think I was limping as I tried to do some Christmas shopping after working at both Target and Kohl’s. I was exhausted, stressed, poor, and just trying to get through the holidays.

I’m sure Cousinfucker’s day was marvelous. He and the whore probably went out and celebrated. They probably skipped happily through the malls Christmas shopping for her kids. Probably took a nice long, romantic trip to reward themselves for all their slutting around. Shared an expensive meal while reassuring each other that what they did to my children was fine and right because they were happy! Hell, they probably celebrated the holidays for weeks on end!

This year I was supposed to have a marvelous weekend. Rock Star had a cheer competition and the mobster and his daughter were going to join us. But alas, I’m not divorced yet and because of the Facebook hack and the mystery text message we decided the prudent thing to do would be to put our plans on hold and wait until the divorce is final before we see each other.

So I got to go to another event for my daughter alone. And navigate a strange town alone. And figure out where I was going once I got to the huge venue alone. I got to sit by myself, too.

I’m sure he and Harley were doing the nasty and celebrating the shit out of this day. Hooray! We’re living together and sleeping together and playing happy family together and getting engaged. But you, Sam, you must remain alone! You have to be a good girl until you are officially divorced.

You know what, though? All this shit does is make me stronger. I can do it all on my own. Cousinfucker can’t say the same. I take comfort in the fact that soon the mobster will be by my side, helping me muddle through all these adventures.

Fear not! I realize the disordered fuckwit and his equally disordered whore probably don’t even realize what the date of our anniversary is, much less celebrate it wildly.

I was simply peeved because my plans were interrupted. Hey- I bet I’ll be divorced next year! I damn well better be…

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!


Getting Through the Anti-versaries

May 2015

Nothing much to say, I suppose.  I could make stuff up.  I got my hair done today.  We’re replacing the air conditioning unit and getting a new humidifier.  Hooray for that!  Now maybe I won’t shock myself next winter!

Yesterday marked the 2 year anti-versry of Zack “confessing” to texting various women.  Actually, it marks the 2 year anti-versary of him being forced to admit he had been texting Harley.

It’s strange how our lives coincide.  My wedding anniversary is in December.  Her wedding anniversary is in December.  My birthday is the same day of the month as her wedding anniversary.  My birthday is at the end of one month.  Her birthday is the end of the following month.  I met Zack at the beginning of May; their affair began right around the same time that our relationship started.  He asked me to marry him on May 7th.  He told his nephew he was going to marry her on May 9th.  He half-heartedly confessed his affair on May 11th.

It takes a lot to stay focused during Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and all summer, basically, because that’s when it all began.  April through August I have to try to disregard any notice of the significance.  Hell, the day after our daughter’s birthday is the day the bitch basically said:  I’m fucking your husband!  And then I can relax until October, which is when I discovered him telling his nephew he was going to marry his whore.  Then I have about another month before our anniversary comes up and I deal with all sorts of triggers with that.  I’m hoping that this year all is good.

I do want to get to that point where we celebrate our anniversary as a victory.  A celebration of all the years of our marriage, not just the blissfully happy ones.  I want to be happy.  I want to be content.  I see some of these women on blogs who are so angry years later and I don’t want to be that.  If the affair is still causing you significant pain and unhappiness 3, 4, 5 years later (in some cases even more), then maybe it’s time to move on.  For my part I don’t read the infidelity blogs much anymore.  I deliberately pass right over them most days.  It helps, I’m sure, that so many of my favorites don’t write much anymore.  That’s the rub.  They write to heal and once they’re healed there is no need to write…

I feel like I have mostly let go of it.  Today I even gave thought to wishing him a happy anniversary on FB this year. I don’t know if that will happen or not but I consider it progress.

Obviously, I am in a situation where the OW won’t go away and die but I try not to think about her too much.  I think about her affair with my husband even less.  I am trying to keep the crazy hidden and look on the positive side.  It doesn’t always work but I am trying and that should count for something.

I guess I’m done for today.  Or for now.

Present Day Sam Says: I feel compelled to point out that when he originally confessed to texting with various women he really was texting various women. He was a male whore. A serial sexter!

I find it sad how much I wanted to believe the lies I was telling myself. It’s going to get better. We’re going to get through this. I need to trust him. I’m evolving. I’m thinking of it less and less. I’m making progress.

You know, marriage shouldn’t be that hard. You shouldn’t be dealing with all that crap. If you are, your marriage is probably already over. Call it! Time of death- May 2015.


Jailhouse Rock!


This originally showcased Harley’s most recent mugshot. Is it wrong that I need to differentiate? It’s not enough to say CF’s mistress has a mugshot. Oh no! There’s a first, a second, and a third.

Maybe one day I’ll post a picture of her. Hell, maybe one day I’ll publicly name her and then anyone who wants to can Google her name and look up all of her mugshots!

January 2015

You know, there is a sadness factor here when you Google images of your husband’s whore and you get an updated mugshot. What in the Hell was he thinking?

I forgot to mention- this was taken in October, a mere 3 months ago.

I find irony in the fact her first mugshot was taken in late May of 2012. I think to myself, “Wow- less than a year later she’s texting my husband and planning a life with him. I guess she really wanted that new life.” Her second one appears in October 2014 which is just under a week after I “celebrated” my 1 year anti-versary of finding the FB messages where my husband declares his intent to marry her. Guess that time of month wasn’t all that great for her either.

Two Takes On Anniversaries After Infidelity

January 2015

This is my current mindset (taken from the Internet):

It doesn’t work for everyone though – my husband’s grandmother sent a text today to wish us a Happy Anniversary. I responded politely saying that we don’t celebrate it anymore because “broken vows = broken marriage = no anniversary” She wrote back and said that it’s a celebration of us finding each other. Can’t agree with that because that would be in November then…which is when we met.

In my opinion, anniversaries are a celebration of the day that you stood before God and made a promise to be with one another (and only one another) for as long as you both shall live. Now, that promise was broken by him…so that day is basically a lie and is dissolved. All the meaning of that day has been taken away from me.

This is where I’d like to be:

Now after 5 years since D day, our anniversary is a day to celebrate what we’ve regained. The years before matter very much. Our marriage is a patchwork of many events, emotions, laughter, and tears. I believe that nothing in our life should be wasted – so even the bad times can turn into something useful.

Getting over his affair was the biggest struggle of my life. Now that we have recovered getting over it was one of the biggest triumphs in my life. Anniversaries now actually mean more to me (and to him) than they did before the affair. The first one after the affair was sheer hell. I still remember the details of it, but I don’t feel bitter and angry about it. It just was what it was. We’re here now and I’m very happy about that.

Maybe one day…

Present Day Sam Says: I really thought that year 21 would be different, that I could celebrate the anniversary. I never got the chance. Seems strange to preface that sentence with sadly, or unfortunately. Is it? I tend to think that a person who could do what Cousinfucker did to me never loved me at all, and all of our anniversaries were a sham. Thank God in hindsight he never made a huge deal out of them. Although I do have to wonder in some of my “pain shopping” moments how he and Harley are now going to celebrate. I’m sure it will be something gaudy and showy. They have to justify stepping on everyone’s necks to get their happiness.

More of Sam’s Epic Meltdown On the Hot Mess Express

This was a fun time in my life, folks. Cousinfucker was melting down, thanks to Blockhead. Looking back on it I was melting down as well. 

It’s not easy to start all over. It’s especially not easy to start all over when you’ve moved 2000 miles across the country and know you’re a mere six hours from the whore. Add in the fact that I knew we had moved to Whoreville because he set the wheels in motion during his first affair with her, and that I felt like everyone was ganging up on me (can it be called a feeling if it’s actually happening?) and you’ve got one hell of a storm. A storm that obviously CF had no control over and did not contribute to any way.

December 2014

Ugh! I’m in a pissy mood. Thinking more about our anniversary, our fucked up, glorious milestone, 20 year anniversary. It pisses me off. I keep asking myself, “What is it exactly that we’re celebrating?” I figure anyone can make it 20 years if you’re allowed to date other people. Nothing special about that. And I don’t think there’s anything remarkable about celebrating 20 years together when only a year and an half prior to that anniversary you were telling everyone who would listen that you wanted to be free of your wife and marry another woman. Telling everyone you’re madly in love, blissfully happy, and have finally found your soul mate… And it’s not your wife! Oh yes, let’s celebrate! Celebrate the fact that after tossing me aside for some whore you finally pulled your head out of your ass and decided to pick me back up. I guess I’ll keep her. Wow- if that doesn’t give me the crotch tingles I don’t know what will.

I think I’m going to tell him I don’t want to celebrate our anniversary anymore. It always leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I feel okay leading up to it and then I spend weeks raging about it. If my fingers weren’t so damn fat I’d take my rings off, too. He gave me those as a promise. He broke his promise. Why would I want to wear the ring anymore? What was the vow? I give you this ring as a sign of my love and faithfulness. Faithfulness. Not as a sign that I want to fuck you right now but I reserve the right to fuck my whore of a cousin one of these days. I’ll get a plain band to wear instead. I think plain gold says more, “I give you this ring as a sign of my temporary fidelity. If someone I think is better comes along I reserve the right to want to marry her and humiliate you.” That’s what he’s going for, right? Something sweet but not too permanent or committed.

I would love to know how far along they got in the planning stages. Did she pick out a ring or did they just talk about what kind she wanted? Did they set a date? Did she ask his sister to be her matron of honor since she was such a supporter of their illicit relationship? Did she have the church and reception hall booked, or just picked out? Ah yes, the questions every wife is asking about her husband’s whore for their 20th anniversary.

Well, this day is ruined.

The Hot Mess Express

December 2014

Watch out, folks; she is decompressing rapidly! His sister just texted me and wished me a happy anniversary. Briefly checked to make sure she had kept it off of Facebook. I’m conflicted, which is why I’m decompressing.

Do you celebrate your anniversary to simply commemorate the day you got married? Or do you celebrate for another reason? Because the way I feel sometimes is that December xxx is simply the day we got married. Nothing to celebrate. People celebrate their anniversary because they’re celebrating their marriage- their successful, happy marriage. They’re celebrating the fact that they achieved another year of marriage and they want to continue being married. They’re celebrating all they’ve achieved as a married couple through the years. I suppose I could be Zen and reflect on the fact that any couple that survives adultery should surely have bragging rights as far as surviving and fighting for their marriage. But to me it feels fake. Once you introduce another person into your marriage that marriage doesn’t mean as much. Oh, I know. I’ve got the bone analogy and my winding road/highway journey analogy. But I’m feeling sorry for myself and am once again near tears so let me dwell in despair. I can’t put it any better than to say it feels fake. My husband was married to me and thought he was in love with another woman. Excuse me, I mean whore. So how do we ever celebrate again? Every time I see a picture of us on our wedding day I think, “We were so young and naive. Untouched by his fling with a whore. And now we’re tainted. Our vows were tossed away. Our wedding date means nothing. It’s just the day he lied.” I suppose most couples married for a long time have difficulties. Hell, maybe those who are celebrating their 50th have been plagued with infidelity. I simply don’t like it and our anniversary always leaves a very bitter taste in my mouth.

December xxx, 1994 he told me he loved me. He told me he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. His future was with me. He was forsaking all others. I moved around the country with him. I suffered 2 miscarriages and an ectopic pregnancy with him. I gave him 2 children. I had his back and I was always his biggest cheerleader. But April or May of 2013 came around and suddenly he was in love with someone else. He claimed to want a future with someone else; he wanted to marry the whore. He spent 3 1/2 months lying to me, deceiving me, humiliating me. And then I found out in August he was still seeing her and I told him I was done with this shit. Shit or get off the pot. Pick one. Finally it was supposedly over and we’re just supposed to go back to normal. Well, I’m sorry but I feel like it’s the same as trying to get into the Guiness Book of World Records. You don’t kiss a person for 18 1/2 hours, trying to break the record, and then pause. You don’t get to go kiss another girl, or eat lunch or take a nap for 3 1/2 hours and then come back and resume where you left off. You lost. You’ve got to start all over. That’s the way I feel about… I don’t know. A betrayed marriage. A fake anniversary. You don’t invest over 18 years and then go lose your mind for 3 1/2 months and then when you’re busted, turn around and say, “Let’s resume where we left off.” You’ve got to start over. So, maybe I’ll look at it as we’re on year 2 of our marriage. I guess he could have saved all that money he spent on the platinum dipped rose and just gone with whatever year 2 is.

Added later: To clarify when I say his sister I am not referring to Jezebel. That would have been a hoot. Actually, that would have never happened. She is too self involved to remember anything about anyone else and quite frankly I would have found her congratulations to be more than a bit hollow.

Added later: I got a text from my dad, Mom and mother-in-law. Or my mother-in-law might have called instead. Told me that 20 years was quite an accomplishment. Yeah, if you count your husband having an affair as an accomplishment.



The Platinum Rose of Doom

December 2014

Today is our anniversary. 20 years. It’s going OK so far. I had a brief moment where I thought, “Wow! 20 years with the same person. What an achievement.” And then I realized it really wasn’t because I was not the only person for 20 years. He cheated on me with Harley. He told her he loved her, that our marriage was dead. He told his sister he loved Harley and that she made him happy. He told his nephew he was going to marry her.

So, Happy Anniversary. 20 years. 2nd anniversary we’ve celebrated since you cheated on me. 1 year post affair. I suppose that’s how they’ll all be counted from now on. See why I don’t post it on my page? That’s a huge mouthful and I’m not sure everyone would be comfortable with all that information. And yet, it feels kind of false to mention 20 years and not put the asterisk by it. I mean, if I’m going to celebrate 20 years of marriage and have people gush, “Happy Anniversary!” to me then I would prefer they know the truth.

Them: Wow- 20 years. That’s a lot of years. Same person for 20 years. Me: Oh, we only made it 20 years because I didn’t leave his ass summer of 2013 when I found out he was fucking around with Harley Buttwipe WhoreFace. It’s not been the same person for 20 years. It’s been me and at least one whore.

He bought me a very expensive platinum dipped rose in a display box. I guess 20 years is platinum. He was very, very proud of it. Said he researched it and everything. He told me I should take a picture of it and post it. Maybe I’ll do that here. I didn’t want to disappoint him and tell him I no longer announce our anniversary. And I can’t exactly post a picture of a rose, dipped in platinum and colored blue, announcing he bought it for me for no reason. Maybe I could post it and just say: Here is the gift Zack bought me. He was very proud of it and wanted me to post it on Facebook. Ta-da! If anyone asks why he bought it I can lie and say it’s an early Christmas present. Hey- maybe that’s how I should view all anniversary gifts from now on. An early Christmas gift.

I’m not thrilled with the gift, if I’m being honest. I can see it now. Someone comes over, notices the flower in a case, hanging on the wall, and asks about it. Me: Oh that? That’s a real flower dipped in platinum. I got that for our 20 year anniversary. He researched it and everything. Some women get jewelry or trips for their 20th anniversary, but not me! No, I have a genuine rose dipped in platinum to hang on my walls and mock me forever. Could have bought me diamonds. Hell, he could have stuck with the theme and bought me platinum jewelry. But no, I have a platinum dipped rose. I’m so lucky. And the best part is he spent $175 on this! $100 for the flower itself and $75 for the case. SMDH

In conclusion this anniversary doesn’t suck. The gift kinda does, and I feel bad about that because I know he’s really proud of it. I’m not ready to cry like I was last year. I’m not thinking of leaving him. So I guess that’s good.

Present Day Sam Says: Little did I know at the time that this was the last anniversary we would “celebrate” again. Eight months later to the day I would find out he was once again involved with Harley. I would spend my next “anniversary” with my kids.