Why Didn’t You Take the Deal?

I’m a big fan of Criminal Minds.  Anyone else out there a fan?  Do you remember the first episode that had the Reaper in it?  They discover he made a deal with the sheriff or police chief, I’m not sure which.  If the chief stopped looking for him, he would stop killing.  Now, the chief is dying and the deal is going to end.  He tries to broker a new deal with Aaron Hotchner but Aaron won’t take it.  This ends badly.  Very, very badly ultimately because SPOILER ALERT eventually, many episodes later, he ends up killing Aaron’s wife.  But in this episode he ends up boarding a bus and slaughtering a group of innocent bus riders.  He calls Aaron and tells him, “You should have taken the deal!”  Or was that the cliffhanger when he confronts him in his apartment?  Anywho…

Now, I’m not about to go out and hunt down a bus full of innocents.  I do, however, sometimes wonder why STBX didn’t take his out when he first had the chance.  Why didn’t he take the deal?  Two and a half years ago I caught him in an emotional affair and demanded he choose between the two of us.  If you want her, go to her, but I will not be your safety net.

Her answer is, of course, he couldn’t liquidate his assets quickly enough, so he stayed with me (and dumped her).  Oh, you stupid, stupid little bitch.  Do you not realize it doesn’t matter how quickly he can liquidate assets because they are already marital property?  He can spend every dime but he still has to cough up half to give to me.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t had time to move us across the country and he figured I would be willing to stay put if he left.  Hell, maybe he was going to leave but she chickened out at the last minute.  I don’t know.  I suppose it’s not important.  I just keep thinking (well, not really; occasionally it pops into my mind) about how he told me he was ready to hop in his car and come get me and the kids if I didn’t return home from my mom’s house.  If you recall, my stepdad died days before I made my discovery.  We had already purchased airline tickets to go out for the funeral.

He could have left then.  He had the perfect opportunity.  Instead he told me he didn’t want to lose any of us.

A few months later I find out about his plans to marry her.  Again, he could have left but he chose not to.  Hell, he wanted to renew our wedding vows!

A year and a half ago we were moving across the country.  The house was sold, bought out by his company, a sure thing.  Things were looking rocky between her and her husband.  He could have got out then.  Said, “Sam, I think it’s best if you and the kids don’t come on out here with me.  I’m in love with Harley and despite our best efforts I don’t think we’re ever going to be able to put our marriage back together.  The house is sold.  Let’s split the proceeds and start the divorce proceedings.”  But no!  We buy an even more expensive house, fill it with new furniture, get a new car, put a pool in the backyard… He systematically dismantled my life and the lives of my children in order to get us out here.  He could have been free but he chose to keep himself entangled.  Why?  Why didn’t he “take the deal”?

I realize I’m trying to understand that which cannot be understood.  I’m trying to explain that which cannot be explained.

It’s just that I look back sometimes and I think, “WTF were you thinking?  Why?  Why did you do half of this shit?”  He could have stopped construction on the pool.  He could easily have said, “Sam, I’m not willing to get a loan.  I think we should wait until next summer.”   Or, when we found out that excavating the rocks was going to cost another $11,000 he could have said, “Sam, that is way too much money!  We budgeted x amount and now you’re telling me it’s going to be y amount.  We don’t have it.”   BAM!  $57,000 saved!  No, instead he says, “This better be worth it!”  He reignited his affair with his whore of a cousin as he watched the construction all summer long.  Even sent me pictures. How fucked up do you have to be to do that?  Or even better, once the affair was already underway I asked him how much stock we had to sell because I was getting worried about the cost; whatever wasn’t covered by cashing in stock was going to have to come out of savings.  He assured me we had plenty.  I told him in that case I was going to go with the more expensive stamped concrete.  He never said a word!  Hey, asshole, that might have been a great time to say something like, “Sam, the other stuff is fine.  Let’s not spend anymore than we have to.”  But no!  Carry on with your whore while we spend a few thousand more.

Our cats died last year.  My daughter begged me to let her take home a stray.  He could have put his foot down.  No more cats!  He didn’t.  This was much earlier in the year so perhaps he wasn’t cavorting with Harley at the time.  But I’m pretty sure they had established contact by the time Memorial Day rolled around and she wanted to bring home a kitten.  I told him about it.  He could have said, “No more cats!  This is crazy!”  But no, he just let it happen.

Of course, when you’re willing to walk away from all of it and leave your betrayed spouse to pick up all the pieces and take care of everything I suppose you don’t really care what happens.  It sure would have been nice to have that extra money, though, instead of sinking it into a hole in the ground.  Hey, Cousinfucker, most people don’t put a fucking pool in their backyard only to move a year later.  It’s not really profitable.  Dumbass!

The only thing I can think of that makes sense is that he had his own very personal time table and he didn’t want to show his hand.  If that cost him a bunch of extra money… oh well.  I suppose it was worth it to him.  Me?  Well, I sure as hell wish he had “taken the deal” and gotten the fuck out of our lives before all of this went down!

Funerals & Other Romantic Dates

CF took his whore to a funeral this summer.  I know what you’re thinking:  How romantic!  Ironically, our daughter really wanted to go with him because she wanted to see her grandparents.  Of course, Daddy Dearest couldn’t take her because that would interfere with him fucking his whore that weekend. And yet, I would bet money that the narrative everyone is spinning is that *I’m* the one keeping the kids away from them.

Anyway, I digress.  The whore originates from his mom’s side of the family. This funeral was for a member of the family on his dad’s side.   I have slowly come to realize that the whore has become “friends” on FB with many members of his family who were at this funeral.

Can I just take a moment to say, “What the fuck, people?”  At the time this happened we were married!!!!  Hell, we’re still married so let me rephrase. At the time this happened I had no idea he was fucking the whore!  At the time this happened I thought we were happily married, albeit dealing with a shitload of his problems, and I was ready to face the world and my new life thousands of miles away from my friends head-on.  Not only does the motherfucker take a whore to a family funeral, instead of taking his actual family, knowing I have no clue what’s going on, but everyone there welcomes her with open arms instead of saying, “What the fuck are you doing?  Have you lost your damn mind?”  Oh yeah, and maybe, “Where’s your wife?  Where are your kids?”

Look, I get it.  I’m just the piece of ass he fucked for the past twenty-one years.  I’m disposable, interchangeable, nothing special.  I’m certainly not family even after twenty-one years with him.  My kids, however, are!  Does no one give a flying fuck about them?  They are your blood and they are devastated by what their asshole father has done.  How do you welcome that home wrecking whore into your lives when you know what she has done to these kids?  Again, I get it.  He is your family and you’re certainly not going to turn him away for my benefit.  But is CF’s happiness so over the top important that nothing else matters?  Hey, don’t worry if two innocent children are destroyed.  The good news is their father is happy and that’s all that matters.  The sad, pitiful things they say to me make my heart hurt.  I’m a big girl.  I don’t give a shit about him anymore.  Anything and everything I ever felt for him died the minute I found out he was fucking around on me.  Again.  With the same fucking whore.  But my children had no idea.  My children loved their father.  All my son wanted was for his dad to “get better” so they could play video games and go fishing and build the media room that we had talked about when we moved.  My daughter wanted her dad’s attention.  She wanted him to see her at meets and games, doing her thing, and cheering her on.  They wanted HIM.  They wanted his time and his attention.  Both of which he is now giving to kids that are not his.  They are both shitting all over these two kids and not a one of you has enough of a moral compass to stand up and say:  I’m not going to support this.  This is wrong.  You don’t bring your whore to a funeral.  (Seriously, folks, does that even need to be said?  I would think that would be a given, but obviously not.  What kind of a sick fuck brings his whore to a funeral?  What kind of sick whore gets off on being paraded in front of his family during a time of mourning?)

You, M., you’ve lost both of your children.  Do you know that CF is voluntarily abandoning his own children?  What would you give to switch places with him?  To have your own kids back?  Your kids are dead; you will never get to see them again.  You will never have moments with them again.  CF’s kids are alive and well.  And he’s sloughing them off like dead skin.  They are no longer important now that she’s around.  How do you not itch to slap him silly?   How do you stand by and watch him desert his kids when you know what it’s like when you no longer have your kids around?

You, E., you’ve sat there and corresponded with me, acting like nothing is wrong.  I wondered if he had gotten up the guts to tell you and your husband what he was doing, but I now know you’ve known all along.  You’ve been nice to my face but treating me like an idiot behind my back.  You have befriended the whore that helped rip apart my kids’ lives.  You are condoning what CF and the whore are doing.

You, G., you have a daughter that you weren’t able to raise but you have never dismissed her as nothing.  You stay in contact.  She’s important to you.  You’re watching CF act like his kids mean nothing, watching as he throws his entire life away.

Hell, maybe these kids mean nothing to him after all; maybe that’s why he finds it so easy to walk away.  Who knows?  I’m sure he would tell everyone who would listen that he loves them with all of his heart and would probably follow that up with, “Their mother is turning them against me.”  Because he’s always a victim.  He’s a cheater and a liar, but he’s the real victim.  Always.  In other breaking news, in CF’s world Charles Manson was the real victim in the Helter Skelter murders, Osama Bin Laden was the real victim on 9/11, Ariel Castro was the real victim in the Cleveland kidnappings, and ISIS is the real victim in the Paris terrorist attacks.

I’m sure everyone is very pleased that CF is finally happy.  It’s too bad that his happiness comes at the expense of the other three members of his family.  I’m not happy about this.  I didn’t move 2000 miles across the country, buy a new house and new furniture, and then put a pool in the backyard so that my husband could fuck a whore. I didn’t walk away from great friends and all my volunteer activities so my husband could fuck a whore either. My daughter isn’t happy about this.  He ripped away her dream of competing in gymnastics in college.  I even asked her recently, seeing all the good things she has here in this new place, would she trade it all for her life back in our former state.  She said yes without missing a beat.  Her passion for gymnastics was that deep, that she would give up everything she has here for a chance to have climbed to the top and competed at the highest level.  Then let’s add in the anxiety she is feeling to excel academically so that she can get a scholarship and I won’t be burdened by college expenses.  Yes, she is definitely not happy.  My son isn’t happy here either.  He complains all the time about the kids being stupid and mean; the sport he loved, hockey, is not offered here either so he has had to give that up.  He used to play in the orchestra but there is no orchestra here so instead he plays in the band.  He likes it, but would rather do orchestra.  He tells me all the time that he wishes we could move back to Utah so he could be with his friends and do the things he used to do.

He has ransacked these kids’ lives and no one seems to give a shit.  As long as he’s happy it’s all good.  Again, I know I don’t mean shit to any of you.  I was just his wife of twenty plus years; I’m totally replaceable.  But I thought someone would perhaps stand up for the two kids caught up in this mess created by CF and the whore, the two kids that are as much your relatives as CF.

What I Learned In Parenting Class

I alluded to the fact I took my court ordered parenting class the other day.  As my son asked me, “Why do YOU have to take a parenting class?”  I explained that it was because his father and I were divorcing and so we had to take this class to learn how to parent as divorced parents.  “Again, why do YOU have to take this class?  You’re the one who is here taking care of us.”  OK, now that I’m done tooting my own horn let me tell you what I learned.

What I Learned In My Parenting Class

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OK, I kid.  But honestly a lot of it did not apply to me and my situation.  They gave us story after story of kids who feel like they are being pulled into two different directions.  They talked about kids who feel disloyal if they want to have a relationship with both parents, knowing the parents don’t like one another.  My kids aren’t feeling any tug of emotions.  They are both pretty disgusted with their dad and what he has done.  Their dad has sabotaged his relationship with them all on his own.  I had nothing to do with it.  I remember practically begging him to take our daughter when she was just a toddler:  Take her out and do something fun with her- just the two of you.  Take her to McDonald’s and get her a sundae and let her play on the indoor playground.  She needs to be used to you doing things with her, too.  I would tell him:  Our son would love to go hunting or fishing.  Why don’t you take him?  It would be something fun you both could do and as a bonus, you don’t have to be around a lot of people!  I encouraged him to coach one of his son’s teams.  He was big into sports when he was growing up and he would talk longingly about it so I figured that would be a great fit.  But no…. there was always an excuse as to why that wouldn’t work.  Now, to his credit he did take our son to a movie that he really wanted to see on opening night.  I have a strict “No Opening Night Movies” policy and told him to see if his dad would take him and much to my surprise he did!  He had even just got home from work.  So again, I will give him credit.  But that was one event in thirteen years of the kid’s life.

They have frequently confided in me what they feel are their father’s faults in being a dad.  They did this even when we were married so it’s not just a divorce thing.  I did what I could to point him in the right direction but as the old saying goes:  You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink.  I have also asked them point blank:  OK, so what is it that I’ve done that makes you say I’m a good mom?  I don’t ask this to get pats on the back.  I ask to see if they can articulate what they believe a good parent should do versus what a bad parent does.  They said things like:

1. You feed us (obviously), do our laundry, and take care of us
2. You take us places (like school, after school activities, and to friends’ houses)
3. You do things with us
4. You take us to the water park, to the amusement park, to the movies, on hiking trails, to museums… You actually like and want to spend time with us
5. You talk to us
6. You come to our events
7. You are interested in us

These are not earth shattering things that I’ve done.  I find it sad that their dad can’t manage to do any of these.  Alright, once again I will be completely fair to him.  He would occasionally join us on some hikes and at the movies.  There was the yearly company picnic that took place at an amusement park and naturally he would join us for that.  And he did take on maybe 2% of the drop offs and pickups associated with having two children that attend school and are busy in extracurriculars.  I could go as high as 5% but that’s it.

Here’s the really sad part.  These kids wanted their father to be a part of their lives.  Every Christmas Eve we would go bowling, sometimes go to a movie as well, and eat lunch or dinner out before coming home and opening presents.  We had a ball and the kids always looked forward to this day because it was one of the few days, if not the only day, that their dad was around and involved all day long.  We would have such a good time.  The two times I left the kids alone with him my daughter said she really enjoyed hanging out with her dad and that they had a really good time together.  Of course, he took them out for breakfast and then let them play for hours at one of the many fun centers in our town, shelling out the money for the all inclusive passes.  She told me later, “If this is what it’s like to hang out with Dad when you’re away I want you to go away more often!”

Unfortunately, what they got was a dad who chose to shut himself away in the bedroom, watching television.  My son said to me, “Why do I need to be the one that comes into his room and asks him how things are going?  Shouldn’t it be the other way around?  I’m the kid.”  My daughter said, “I got tired of the first thing he would say to me when I was hanging out in your room being, ‘Get up out of my chair.  Time for me to sit there.’  How about saying hello or how was your day?”  They got a dad who was wallowing in pity so deep he couldn’t go to the movies or out to dinner or anything else with us.  They got a dad who couldn’t go on vacation with them but could hang out without a care in the world with another woman and her kids.  They got a dad who wasn’t interested in going to meets or games, who didn’t want to drop them off or pick them up, and didn’t generally take the time to go see them and ask how they were doing.

So no, I can’t relate when I hear of these kids who are pulled in two different directions, who love their mom and dad equally.  My kids aren’t pulled into different directions.  They don’t worry about feeling disloyal to either parent because the reality is their dad shipped out a long time ago.

In a similar vein they talked about how important it is to co-parent because we’ll be in each other’s lives for years and years to come.  There will be sporting events, school achievements, band concerts, graduations, weddings, grandchildren born.  Yes, for some people that will be true.  I, however, have a feeling that he won’t be around for any of that.  He didn’t attend a single gymnastics meet last year and hasn’t this year either.  He has bailed on band concerts and high school awards assemblies.  He wasn’t present at the fall sports banquet.  He’s already removed himself.  Of course, a lot of these things take place on the weekend, and weekends are for the whore and her kids.   I know we still have a few years to go before graduation but my daughter has already told me she doesn’t want him there.  She’s told me she doesn’t want him walking her down the aisle at her wedding.  Again, I know there are many years in which they can both change their minds, but for now, this is how they’re feeling.

They liked to remind us that while a marriage has ended a family must continue.  Sorry, but I’m going to have to call bullshit on that.  We are no longer a family of four.  I have a family of three.  My kids have two different families of three, one with me and the other with their father, if they are so inclined to claim him.  Divorce ends families.  It means your family broke up.  You now need to create a new family.  As I said, mine is a family of three.  Their father might consider himself to be a part of a family of six now for all I know, or perhaps he includes his actual children and believes he is a part of a family of eight.

I also learned parenting is a lifelong responsibility.  Color me shocked!  I would never have known that.  Oh wait, I was channeling the STBX.  Of course it’s a lifelong responsibility!  Some people just skip out on it.

Another thing they told us, which I already knew, was that kids tend to believe the divorce is their fault.  I’m pretty sure my kids don’t feel that way.  On the pro side he never denied he had a mistress, although he liked to reframe it as a “girlfriend”, so they know there was another woman.  He has also been very vocal about how unhappy we were (unbeknownst to me, of course), going so far as to tell one of them that I didn’t take care of him.  So that’s some pretty strong evidence that they had nothing to do with the divorce and it was all my fault.  But on the con side he did tell them we drifted apart once we had kids which is kind of the epitome of their fault.  It could go either way but from the conversations I’ve had with my kids when they’re venting they seem to be eschewing the guilt in favor of placing it squarely on their dad’s shoulders.  I’m sure part of that also has to do with the fact that he tore them away from everything they loved and held dear, telling them that this was for our future, only to walk away a year later.

There were two things they covered that I really loved though.  The first was the circle of concern versus the circle of influence.  I know this in a rational sort of way but it was good to see it in black and white.  As they explained it there are things that concern you and things that you can influence.  Sometimes these things will overlap and sometimes they will not.  It is important to figure out when your concern is something you can influence and when it is not.  Figure out where you can exercise your influence and give up on those things you cannot.

I’m going through this now with the kids and their allowances.  He was in charge of paying them.  Now that he is being court ordered to pay an amount he suddenly no longer has the money.  This is very strange to me because as I believe I have pointed out he was able to drop $300 on a dress for a child that is not his own.  He is able to pay over $200/month for a cell phone bill for a “woman” who is not his wife and a child who is not his child.  He was able to drop at least $800 on Christmas gifts for kids that are not his.  He tells me he has to pay off his American Express.  Do you want to guess what kind of charges are on his American Express?  If you guessed charges for the whore and her kids you would be correct!

He has over $3000/month once he pays me.  That money is all his.  He pays no rent, no utilities, no portion of the marital debt, and no car insurance.  I am given a monthly lump sum for spousal and child support and I pay all of those bills, even while he remains in the home (although that is supposed to change next month).  He pays no car payment because the final payment was taken out of our joint account this past fall.  That was also paid out of the money he was so graciously giving me.  He has no cell phone bill of his own because his phone is provided for by his company.  From September through December he had almost $5000/month. Would anyone like to guess where all that money went to because apparently now he doesn’t have a spare $200 for the month!  Can’t buy his daughter a yearbook.  Can’t buy a fundraiser t-shirt.  It’s amazing.

Going back to my handy little circle of influence versus circle of concern I can tell you that I’m vey concerned about his lack of responsibility in regards to his own children.  I will even cop to being quite pissed that he is able to throw money around at someone else’s kids and that he’s been living like a child-free bachelor.  The reality, however, is that I do not have much influence over this.  Sure, I can ride his ass and make things uncomfortable for him.  I think I have managed to get him to give them their money once his bonus check comes in.  But I’m not fooling myself into believing I can make him do anything.  In the end I know the only thing I can do is live within our new budget and be honest with the kids that some things are going to have to change.

And finally my absolute favorite part of the class was when the presenter was talking about new relationships.  He said the average time to remarry was around 4 years and warned that 76% of second marriages end in divorce; he said it was especially true when you enter into a new relationship quickly without discovering your part in the failure of your previous relationship.  I so badly wanted to raise my hand and ask, “What are the chances of divorcing when you marry your affair partner?”

Victim Morphing or 50 Ways to Make Everything About You and All the Wrongs Done to You

I learned a fantastic new term that I think sums up Cousinfucker.  That term is victim morphing and it refers to the way the cheater always manages to turn things around so that he/she is the victim.

I think this goes back to the very beginning.  He pushed people away and then complained he had no friends.  He was the victim.  To this day he whines about no one showing up at the airport to greet him when he got back from the war.  My guess is he told no one when he was coming home.  I know when he got home to his home town his mom had a party for him and he drove around trying to kill time so that he didn’t have to go.  Poor, poor baby.  I remember them telling me the story of bringing a damn recliner across the country to him and after about 3 days he asked them if it wasn’t about time for them to be going back home.  Push ‘em away and then cry victim.

He loses his job while I’m pregnant and it’s all about how he’s feeling down.  He needs support.  I’m crying in the shower and don’t dare let him know how anxious I am about it.  Because he needs me to be strong.

When he began a new job it required traveling.  That meant that I was left at home by myself juggling an extremely high needs infant who thought sleep was optional, dogs, cats, a household, and a full-time, then part-time, work from home job, with no child care.  And yet he was the poor put upon victim in this scenario.

I bundled up an infant every Monday and drove him to the airport because he was too precious to take a cab.  These were always early flights- 6 or 7 in the morning at least.  This was before 9/11 so not only did I drive him there we both stayed with him until he boarded his plane.  Then I would head home and hopefully get in an hour or so of work while the baby slept. The rest of the week I would get up at 7:30 when she would get up.  I would change her diaper, get her dressed, feed her breakfast, and then around 9:00, when she was ready for her morning nap, I would head upstairs to the “office” where I would work in snatches of 10 and 20 minutes (because my child did not sleep and after 10-20 minutes she would start screaming for me to hold her).  I alternated between working and entertaining her all day long, with a break for lunch.  I would generally call it a day sometime between 5 and 6.  I’d go downstairs, have dinner, play with my baby, watch some TV, wait for his phone call between 9 and 9:30 and get the baby down for the night.  Then I would go upstairs and work until around 1 am because I could work for several hours uninterrupted.  I would go to bed and sleep until my daughter woke in the middle of the night to be fed, usually around 3:30.  I’d be up for 15-30 minutes, go back to bed and then wake up at 7:30 and do it all over.  I actually tried to get all 40 hours in before Friday, or time it so that I would only have to work a few hours on Friday so that I could clean up the house before I left to go pick up my husband.  I cried every day.  And then on weekends I would cook for him (because the poor thing had been on the road all week, eating at restaurants and he so missed a good home cooked meal) and do his laundry.  I complained once about the grueling schedule and how stressed I was and he shut me down, telling me how it wasn’t easy on HIM either.  He missed us.  He was up in the middle of the night, too.  Yeah, once.  Once when the damn alarm went off at the plant.  That doesn’t exactly equal what I was going through, Mister.  I was up every night around 3:30 tending to OUR child.  And that was after going to bed at midnight or later every night so that I could get my work done.

Hell, come to think of it, every time we moved I was always expected to realize how hard it was for him.  So hard to be alone and apart from us, even though when he was with us he isolated himself.  Yes, living in a furnished apartment and having to take care of no one except yourself must be hell.  Why, being left with two young children, trying to keep the house picked up for showings, trying to get rid of things and sort through things, keeping up with the dogs and cats and guinea pigs, running around to keep the kid’s lives as normal as possible during this time of transition… all of that was a piece of cake.  You betcha!

He cheats and it’s all about him and how he hasn’t been happy.  Hey, you think I’ve just been dancing the happy dance all these years, so happy to be partnered up with the greatest husband and father ever?  Oh, no, honey, not even close.  But here’s the difference.  I tried to work through it.  Or I figured things would get better as the kids got older and didn’t need me as much.  You, on the other hand, you decided to seek out your white trash whore of a cousin.  And after he’s found out it’s all about what I’ve done and can do to make things better.  He was never remorseful.  He was never willing to do the hard work.  It’s so blatantly obvious now, looking back on it.  HE was anxious.  It was difficult for HIM to look back on everything.  Of course!  Because having to listen to you tell me how the two of you said, “I love you!” and planned a future together, reading messages where you’re bragging about marrying the whore, learning of her plans to tattoo her love for you on her body, knowing that you were telling her horrible things about me… why that’s a walk in the park!  Can’t think of any other way I’d rather spend my time.  So much fun for me, so very difficult for you.  Poor baby.

We moved constantly because he was unhappy.  He wanted something new and different. The new job was always going to be so exciting and wonderful.  The move was always supposed to be worth it.  And then he would become unhappy once again.  Seriously.  He hated it at Company #1 so we moved to a different state so he could work at Company #2.  He got disappointed at the pay raise when he was promoted to superintendent so he left there after 2 1/2 years.  We moved to yet another state so he could begin working at Company #3.  We made friends; settled in, laid down roots.  I loved my life there.  And what happened?  He ended up losing his job at Company #3, probably because he was an asshole.  Went back to Company #2.  Complained about GM #1, then bitched about GM #2.  Got transferred out west, talking about how it was such an honor and a privilege.  “I never thought they’d want me as the production manager for that plant!  That’s their show plant!”  8 years later he’s bored, unhappy, and declaring he’ll go insane because he feels so isolated.  Now BFE is supposed to be Mecca.  Only within 6 months he’s once again whining and oh look, also fucking his cousin!

It didn’t matter if we were all happy where we were.  It never mattered.  He was the only one that mattered.  Yes, I went along with it.  I might have been a spineless fool but he was the breadwinner; we supported him and whatever he wanted to do.  So, even though we were all happy in Utah we moved to Virginia anyway.  I was scared shitless even though I was on board with it.  Get there, fall in love with it, get involved, make friends.  As I said eight years later he’s crying about how he thinks he’s going to go crazy if he has to stay there much longer.  He hates it there.  Oh, he makes noises about learning to love it and deal with it, but he knows I’ll come to the rescue and let him off the hook.  No, no, Cousinfucker, we’ll all move.  We’ll all give up our lives here so that YOU can be happy.

Once again he’s cheating and he again takes the victim route.  With his own kids, nonetheless!  He tells our son we’ve never had a happy marriage.  He tells me we need to forge a new relationship, one based on us both being happy in our new lives.  Hey, dickhead, where’s my new life?  I don’t have a warm body in my bed every weekend, telling me everything is going to be ok and I’m so pretty and so wonderful and that you deserve to be cheated on.  No, I’m doing this divorce thing all by myself.  Well, by myself while navigating two teenagers through it.  Because their dickhead father can’t be bothered.  He even whines about me throwing out all his clothes and all “his memories”.  Oh, fuck off (and take a look around the house, specifically the guest room, instead of whining and maybe you’ll find your shit)!  Tells me we have a history together and I can’t erase that no matter how much I want to.  Well, that just makes everything all better then!  I want to hate him but we have a history together, you see.  Every time I want to hate him for moving me and my kids 2000 miles across the country, ripping our lives apart all so that he could get closer to that low down white trash whore of his, why I just think of our wedding day and I’m filled with peace and love and hope and I just can’t bring myself to feel anything but joy!  FUCK THAT!  He actually whines to our daughter about how he’s unwelcome in his own home!  Oh the horrors!  The best I can come up with is he’s upset that I’m no longer fixing him his dinner and bringing a plate up to him.  Believe me, you don’t want anything I would bring to you.  He totally ignores anything she brings up, instead turning everything around to how hurt he is.  He’s the victim.  He writes letters to both of them, telling them how much he loves them.  Meanwhile, he’s spending a fortune on the whore and her kids, while neglecting his own.  Ever heard the phrase talk is cheap? Or how about actions speak louder than words? That’s you, dickhead.  You can talk out of your ass all you want but they know the truth.  Yet he continually acts the victim.  Poor, poor baby.  He’s unwelcome.  There are BELLS on the door.  The door is locked when he leaves.  I don’t leave the porch light on for him anymore.  He pays all the bills and he’s still unwelcome.  He STARVES while we eat.  He is so mistreated.

Remind me again which one of us is cheating?  Which one of us was taking less than half of the paycheck and paying bills, and which one was taking over half of the paycheck and spending it on whores and hooligans?  Which one of us is ignoring his kid’s texts and refusing to pony up their allowances or buy a yearbook or a fundraising t-shirt?  Guess maybe that $800 you spent on the whore’s kids tapped you out.  Which one of us is taking care of the kids and which one of us is off every fucking weekend to fuck a whore?  Oh wait!  That’s right!  He only does that because he’s not welcome here!

Victim morphing.  There should be a picture of my fuckhead husband right next to the definition!

“This Can Be Civil”

Another entry that was written a few months ago.  He has now been court ordered to pay temporary support so he doesn’t get to “decide” how much to give me.

Words to live by, huh?  This is what the lying, cheating douchebag of a soon to be ex (STBX) says to me after letting me know he doesn’t have money to pay his half of the household bills (and after informing me that he shouldn’t have to pay a cent for my cell phone.  Hey, let’s give him a break; he’s paying for his whore’s and her daughter’s cell phones so he really can’t afford to keep supporting his actual WIFE.)

This can be civil?  First, let me ask you what your definition of civil is because in my eyes I have been nothing but civil.  I haven’t screamed, yelled, ranted and raved, cried hysterically, begged you to take me back, blown up your phone with text messages or phone calls while you’re away every weekend with your whore and her kids, or encouraged our kids to do the same.  I haven’t bashed your head or testicles with a baseball bat while you’re sleeping, screamed obscenities at you, keyed your car or rented billboards to advertise your cheating with your whore of a cousin all over your home state, particularly in the towns you frequent.  I haven’t thrown all your possessions onto the lawn, or thrown them away, burned them, ripped them up or in any way trashed them.  I haven’t sold them online or donated them to Goodwill. For the love of all that’s holy I haven’t even thrown you out of the house!  You still have full access even though you don’t think you should have to pay half of the bills.  And when you banished your own self to a motel room for ONE WHOLE NIGHT in an astounding display of self pity I allowed you to move into the guest bedroom and told you I thought that was a wise decision.  I haven’t shown up at your place of employment with all your belongings and dumped them in the parking lot with a huge sign that reads:  I moved my entire family here one year ago and now I’m leaving them for my cousin!  I haven’t written the same on your car windows while you were inside either. And I haven’t shown up there and thrown an absolute fit about your abhorrent behavior.  I haven’t called your boss and informed him that you’re having an affair and all that vacation time isn’t being spent with family (oops, I guess it is actually!) but with another woman, a woman you’re leaving your wife of 20 years for.  I haven’t let him in on the fact that you’re interviewing for other jobs to get closer to your tramp.  I haven’t let the higher ups know that either.  I wonder what they would say after all that campaigning you did to get this plant…  Do you think you would remain the golden boy or would you be tarnished and dirty once they realized it was all a ploy to get near your cousin so you could start up another affair with her?  I haven’t let any of them know that you used your corporate card to conduct your affair so that I wouldn’t know what all was going on.  Or that you are using the company discount (if indeed there is a company discount and that wasn’t just another bullshit story told to me to cover your tracks) and your corporate card to pay her cell phone bill.  I could so easily start attending church where your boss does; he’s invited me several times, you know.  But I haven’t. I haven’t trashed you in front of our kids.  I haven’t told them how you’re interviewing for jobs in other states so you can get closer to your girlfriend.  I haven’t told them about the deposit you put down on a dog for kids that aren’t yours.  I haven’t told them your cousin is wearing a shiny new diamond ring despite the fact that you’re not even close to being divorced. Hell, the words, “Your dad loves you very much,” and “He did things with us as a family; don’t you remember our last two vacations together?” have actually passed through my lips.  So all in all I think I’ve been very civil. In fact, I’ve been told by many, many people that I’ve been TOO civil.

What have you done to be civil?  Make small talk?  Act like you care whether I live or die?  Make sure we continue to keep our standard of living?  Hell, have you even apologized for your inexcusable, boorish behavior and assured me that you’ll give me a more than generous divorce settlement?  Oh no, you started screwing your cousin and siphoned off thousands of dollars to give to her and her kids. From OUR account!  You opened a new account that I knew nothing about and cashed in the rest of your stock.  Then when you were discovered you started depositing the majority of your paycheck into said account, leaving me not even enough to pay the bills, much less buy food for your children.  Let’s not even get started on buying anything fun for them, or buying toilet paper or dog food, or any of those other pesky necessities that I so carelessly spent all “your” money on. The best part though? Or perhaps I should say the most civil? That must have been when you told me you were not going to let me continue to steal every dime you make!  And, hey, where do you live right now?  Oh, that’s right.  As discussed above you’re still living in the marital home (although you slink off every weekend with nary a word to me or your children to go fuck your whore) and yet you don’t think you should have to pay your half of the household bills.  You give me what your attorney told you you would be paying and you expect me to pay all the bills and take care of all of the kids’ and pets’ needs, while you take the rest of your check and blow it on the gold digging bimbo and her kids that talk about you behind your back.

That’s not even bringing up all the bullshit you’ve subjected our kids to!  Do you think it’s civil to not have a conversation with your daughter in over 3 months?  Do you think it’s civil to tell your son, in the one conversation you’ve had with him in 3 months, that you’re not going to deny you have a girlfriend but you’ve been very unhappy for years?  In fact, according to him, you told him we hadn’t had a happy marriage in a long time (LIE!) and that once we had kids we started to drift apart.  Are you fucking kidding me?  Do you even realize what you’ve just told him?  You’ve affirmed every kid’s worst nightmare that it WAS their fault.  Hey, if you hadn’t been born your mom and I might still be happily married.  Nice job!  Where do I send your nomination for Father of the Year?  I think my favorite part though was when you told him I took a lot of money from “your” account.  First of all, it was a joint account and everything you have is 50% mine.  Second, you forgot to mention the part where I switched it over to another account (one we’d had for years and that you knew about!) because YOU WERE GIVING ALL OF OUR MONEY TO YOUR WHORE!  When your daughter texts you to tell you that it’s very distressing seeing your mistress posting all over social media about how much she misses you being in her bed (wow- civil and classy!) did you apologize for your whore’s horrible behavior?  No!  You basically accused your daughter of lying or accused me of making shit up.  And turned it all around to how YOU are a victim.  You’re not welcome in the home even though you pay all the bills.  You starve while we eat.  Thankfully your smart daughter called you out on all your bullshit.  She even sent you a screenshot of the whore’s post.  Did you apologize then?  Oh hell no!  You simply told her you weren’t lying when you said she hadn’t done anything of the sort because you hadn’t seen that.  Do you want to take a guess as to how civil your whore was?  I’m guessing you must have told her what your daughter found because instead of writing a note of apology, letting her know how sorry she is for her sorry ass behavior, she does what she normally does and she blocks her.  I don’t think that’s very civil; do you?

But here’s the most pertinent question: How does being civil benefit ME?  What’s being civil going to get ME?  Does being civil mean that you’re going to help me keep this house so your kids don’t have to move again? Or does it simply give you an opportunity to tell everyone, “Look!  I’m not that bad of a guy.  Sam doesn’t hate me.  We’re civil!”?  Does being civil mean that you’ll work with me so that I don’t have to try to refinance the house and the kids can remain in their home until they graduate?  Or does it just let you off the hook for being the shit you are?  Does being civil mean that you’re going to pay the vet bill when it’s time for your daughter’s cats to be spayed and neutered?  Or does it simply mean you don’t have to worry that I’ll tell people how you’re fucking your cousin?  FYI:  I always make sure to include that tidbit.  It’s the best part of the story.  Does being civil mean that if the furnace goes out over the winter or the A/C goes out next summer that you’re going to help replace it?  Or does it mean you don’t have to feel guilty about firebombing our lives?  Does being civil mean that if I’m running low on money you’ll step in and help me out?  Or does it mean you can now tell everyone, “See, it really was for the best!  We just weren’t good for each other, but now we have a new relationship based upon being happy for one another in our new lives!”?  Does being civil mean that you’ll finally start paying your share of the household bills and marital debt instead of blowing all your money on your white trash whore and her kids?  Or does it mean you can feel better about what you did if I’m all smiles and giggles every time you’re around?  Hell, does being civil mean that you finally man up, stop throwing me under the bus, and own up to your own churlish behavior?  Or does it mean I bring you your dinner and do your laundry all week long while you run off and fuck a whore every weekend?  Does being civil even mean that you step up to the goddamn plate just once and be a father to your children who are SCREAMING at you to get you to pay attention to them?  Or does being civil mean I accept the fact that now you are lavishing all that time and attention (that you could never muster up for our kids) and spending hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars every month on kids that aren’t yours because you want to impress them and their gold digging mommy?  I’m sure being civil means I then turn around and put a nice little spin on that for your actual kids.   I’m just curious as to what being civil gains me because as far as I can tell “being civil” just means I’m supposed to bend over, grab my ankles and take it any way you want to give it to me.

Father of the Year

I hate him!  Usually I tell myself, “Sam, you don’t hate him.  You have to actually care about someone in order to hate them.  You are indifferent.”  Well, tonight I hate him!  He has made my daughter cry and he is stressing her out.

The child has always been driven; she’s a perfectionist and highly competitive.  She is on her high school gymnastics team and right now she is feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders with that.  She says that the four returning girls from last year are carrying everyone and no one else cares.  She’s tired of other girls doing nothing except taking up space on the equipment.  She is feeling pressure to win, win, win and to carry the team to victory!  On top of that she is freaking out over exams, one class in particular.  She tells me the teacher doesn’t teach and doesn’t give them any direction as far as what to study; she’s tried talking to this teacher and she gets no where.  She really needs an A on this mid-term and she is stressing over how to achieve that since she has no idea what to study.  She’s worried she’s going to get a B and that will bring her GPA down.  “I know a 3.9 isn’t bad but I will disappoint myself if I get a B in this class,” she tells me.  She then goes on to tell me how she doesn’t want me to have to pay for college and if she gets a B she’ll never get an academic scholarship (and since her dad moved us out here and dashed her gymnastics dreams ULTIMATELY FOR NO REASON there is no hope for a gymnastics scholarship anymore), and then she bursts into tears.  My poor baby is fifteen years old.  She shouldn’t be worrying about crap like this.  The only reason she’s so stressed is because of HIM.  She has said she thinks her gymnastics has suffered this year because she’s so anxious and worried about the divorce and what her dad is doing.  After club gymnastics where she spent a minimum of twenty hours a week in the gym and we were spending thousands each year on it there is no reason on earth that she should be this stressed over high school gymnastics.  The only reason she’s worried about how to pay for college is because her father is an asshole who has abandoned us in favor of a whore and her kids.  Last year she didn’t have a care in the world.

Additionally, he is responsible for giving the kids their allowance.  It’s the one damn thing he can continue to do.  But he has not done so this month.  Probably shot his wad dropping hundreds of dollars on kids that weren’t his; hey, I still see the charge card bill. She texted him and asked him about it a few days ago.  He still has not responded.  Probably too much of a chicken shit to admit he’s no longer going to be giving them an allowance.  I’m sure he’ll blame it all on me and try to tell them I’m taking all of his money.  The truth is he pays more for the cell phone bill for the whore and her daughter than he would spend on both of his kids’ allowance.  He dropped more on a one time shopping trip for a dress for her daughter than what he would spend on allowances. Isn’t he a prince?   When I asked her if she had texted him again she was indignant.  “I shouldn’t have to text him again!  He should reply to his kids.”  I agree.

The man has spent twenty plus years whining about his own father and how he was never there for him, and he ends up being even worse.  He has been known to say, “I don’t understand how anyone can turn his back on his kids.”  Are you understanding it now?  Because you sure as hell aren’t there for them.

So, tonight I am not indifferent.  Tonight I am filled with rage and hatred.  I’m sure it will pass but for tonight he’d better stay out of my way.

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!