The Delusional Side Chick, Part 4

We are not together, but we are. I provide him support and honest advice as he determines the steps he needs to take to really get what he wants. He wants a family, and has done an incredible amount of things to work towards that goal.

I’m a vegetarian, but I eat meat. I can swim, but I can’t. We’re not together but we are. We fuck but we don’t fuck. I don’t really know what words mean…

He provides proof of action and transparency, and has now been living life through compromise, rather then control.

I’ve followed the heartbreaking story of him and his long term chick, and I can say, that to me, his break up with her, is also a break up for me and her. She was my secret too. She very much so, was a part of my life, but may never really know it. He kept her a secret, but I kept my suspicions of her a secret too.

Lucy, you and the long-term girlfriend did not “break up”. You’ve been fucking her boyfriend for years now and he’s finally left her, or so he says. Now you get to be the long-term girlfriend and he’ll find some other side chick. Stop trying to fool yourself. You always knew about her. You just didn’t care.

I hope my story as the “side chick” can help other women like her find their self worth.

Again I say, you are one delusional bitch, Lucy. How on earth do you think you banging her boyfriend has helped her find her self-worth?

Though she currently struggles to find ways to get him back, he has set his boundaries. He has stated his intentions with me to everyone but her, but I hope that he finds enough courage and respect for her, to come clean with her too.

<chuckle> He’s set his boundaries, all right. Don’t you find it a little strange that he’s stated his intentions towards you to everyone but her? I can believe I’m just an old, bitter, untrusting woman but what that tells me is he’s not ready to cut the cord with her. She is still useful to him.

I think that it’s important in this situation, to push past fears and really fight for what we want. I wanted the truth, and I got it. I wanted a best friend, and I got it, and in the end, when I want a relationship, whether it’s with him or someone else, I’ll have that too.

You wanted the truth but you probably never really got that. What little truth you did gain you only learned when he was caught. If he is your idea of a best friend you have no standards. As far as having a relationship with him if you want it, well, I’m sure he’ll fuck you, but you don’t control whether or not he decides to be in a relationship with you. You most certainly don’t control whether he’s faithful to you. With his track record I’d be wary. Then again you have the sparks so you’ll probably be okay. <eye roll>

I was willing to let him go, though it was painful for me, to seek what I really wanted, and when he wasn’t giving me what I deserved, I left. I wanted to help him, just as long as he was willing to accept my help.

Lucy, you were cleaning up beer bottles, washing dirty dishes and throwing away used condoms and sex toys. You knew he had a long-term girlfriend. You knew there were others. You pick me danced for years. You are not a shining example of what to do or how to stand up for yourself.

Just because some relationships are not a good match, does not mean that the people in those relationships, are inherently bad. In his relationship to her, she was an enabler, and he was the toxin. For him and I, I provided boundaries, and set the example that he realized that he wanted. He became honest, open, and though he felt fear, he was willing to learn how to ignore that fear to fight for what he wanted, using a voice that he didn’t realize was so powerful.

Or maybe his long-term girlfriend didn’t clean his apartment as well as you.

Not all disasters have a happy ending, but if this is the recipe to having one, then I’m willing to share it.

Please don’t. This is a dreadful recipe. There is nothing appealing about this.

…For all of the people who are willing to read through my not so well thought out story, I hope that this story can show that sometimes sacrifice can bring rewards, but sometimes those rewards aren’t something that the ones who sacrificed can really see. Here’s to hoping that in situations like mine, those of us who have sacrificed, at least get brownie points from karma.

Wait one damn second! You actually think you are going to get karma brownie points for your role in all of this? Only if those brownie points have Ex-Lax baked into them!

The Delusional Side Chick, Part 3

In the end, the feel good was always temporary, and a little less each time. I cleaned up the thousands of half empty two year old beer bottles, I happily put on gloves and picked up and threw out his spent condoms from his hundreds of past partners, I tossed a few hundred sex toys hidden in the coffee table, under his couch, in his beer cartons, and under his bed. I was not happy about the situation, but I was determined to make a positive impact on him during the short bursts of time that I had with him.

Who’s the enabler now, Lucy?

I wanted him to know what it was like to come home to his house, where there wasn’t a stench of dried cum, moldy beer, and dirty dishes soaking into the walls. I have my own house, and I know depression well. If I’m going to make an impact on anyone, I want above all, for it to be a good one. I know what struggle is like, and I did a lot of it to myself, but in my situations, when I was truly alone, I got myself out of it. I was the perfect antidote.

As much as you deride the long term girlfriend for being an enabler, from all that you’ve written you enabled him much more than she did. When you find yourself throwing out used condoms and tossing away sex toys… I don’t even have words for this. Everything you’ve accused the long-term girlfriend of you are guilty of yourself, multiplied by infinity.

You were not a positive example, or a “perfect antidote”. You were being used. You were the perfect appliance. You were the perfect whipping girl. You were just too delusional to see it. Because sparks.

As I helped him, his skin brightened up, he seemed happier, he told me he loved me, but the lying and cheating continued.

Imagine that!

I began to get fed up. Four months in, on our most recent decision to get back together, I got hard proof of the other women. I addressed the problem to him, showed him evidence that I knew everything, and provided him a safe space to come clean in.

Hard proof of other women? Girl, where have you been? You knew there were other women because he had a long-term girlfriend. Who the hell did you think he was using the sex toys on? Himself? Did he use a condom to masturbate?

Thankfully, you provided him a safe space in which to come clean. That’s the number one reason most liars don’t ‘fess up. Lack of a safe space. Maybe we should round them up and drop them off at fire stations. Then the truth could come pouring out like manna from Heaven.

The number two reason they don’t ‘fess up? They’re liars.

Though he became transparent and willing to compromise with me on most things, he still stood by his longest secret… the main girl.

Wow- he was transparent and willing to compromise on most things. Like, he was willing to tell you how much he could bench press or how he really felt about Grey’s Anatomy’s newest storyline, or if he really liked your pot roast, but he wasn’t quite willing to stop fucking other women? Gotta draw the line somewhere. He is positively opaque when it comes to the other women!

Lucy, she is not a secret. She never was. You admitted you knew about her but ignored her existence from the very beginning. She was his whipping girl, remember? You tried so hard to give her clues and get her to recognize her self-worth.

A week later I gave him one last chance to come clean, and he didn’t take it, so during that one night he spent with her, I walked in on him and her. I was respectful, got my things that I had purposely left at his house, calmly sat down next to her and told her about the other women, waved goodbye, and left.

Well aren’t you just a sweetheart! That’s so thoughtful of you to let her know about all the other women. I’m sure there was no hidden agenda.

He tried to make it work with the main girl, but she enabled him, so he began to cheat again. I went no contact again.

She enabled him so he cheated. You didn’t enable him (in your mind) and he still cheated. Maybe the problem isn’t her so much as it is him. And you, because you keep making excuses for him.

Then, to my surprise, he broke things off with her, he decided to work on himself, and realized that he no longer wanted to lead a life of risky promiscuity, and coping through vices.

I love a happy ending. <eye roll>

The Delusional Side Chick, Part 2

Our story, for the most part was a very beautiful one, when we met there were sparks that made everyone jealous. I think the best way to describe it was that it was more of a spiritual journey than anything. We both would enter into each other’s lives to trigger growth in each other, and we provided each other just enough support to help overcome. When the lesson was time to be tested, I’d leave.

Everyone was jealous of their sparks. <barf> It wasn’t infidelity. It was a spiritual journey. She’d enter his life, trigger a little growth (in his dick) and then leave when he wouldn’t commit.

There were issues that each of us needed to work through.

By issues you needed to work through, do you mean the fact that he was a lying cheater and you were the delusional side chick?

The main woman, or I guess the better word was the long term woman, was his enabler.

This is new information! You seem to be implying that the only thing that differentiates her from any of the other women, is the fact that she has put up with his shit the longest. She has been demoted from the “main woman” to simply the “long term woman”. And, she is an enabler as well! How dare she enable him to fuck her and you and a bevy of other women? That bitch! She should toss his ass out and make him settle down with you right now! You wouldn’t enable him, would you, Lucy? You’d stand up straight, look him straight in the eye and say, “It’s me or all those other bimbos. If you’re going to be fucking anything that moves I’m outta here!” Oh. Wait a minute…

He couldn’t make up his mind and follow through with it. I sacrificed everything that I could have, to be with someone who would give me most of his time and energy, but not everything I deserved. He would spend six days out of seven with me, and one with her.

Oh Lucy, it’s not that he couldn’t make up his mind and follow through. It’s that he really likes having a pussy smorgasbord. Long term girlfriend puts up with his shit. You put up with his shit. By the sounds of it a lot of other women put up with his shit, too. This works for him, Lucy.

Not to be picky but if he’s spending six out of seven days with you, wouldn’t that make you the main chick that he’s cheating on with her? It sounds like maybe you’re enabling him…

It broke my heart what he was doing to her, because I was used and abused before. I was married before, and had been lied to and cheated on.

Then why in the hell would you do that to another person? If it truly broke your heart you would stop what you were doing. You would refuse to participate. You would remove yourself from this equation.

I would throw her hints and clues, but she’d reject me every single time.

What do I have to do to let this pathetic woman know I’m fucking her boyfriend? Why will she not take a hint?

He’d brush me off as his stalker, but I was going to do my best. I was determined to both help her find her self worth, and help him find his true voice. I sacrificed my own like a martyr and only focused on what I had to give me the strength to pull through.

As the mobster would say, “Oh my head!” Lucy, when the man you are fighting for tells people you are a stalker that is a huge red flag that he is not a good person; he is not relationship material. Run, you dumb bitch!

Would Lucy ever really take my advice? Anyone’s advice? No. She’s going to play couples therapist. She’s going to help the woman he’s cheating on with her to find her self-worth. Something tells me her self-worth is tied up in leaving the man Lucy is fighting for so that Lucy can have him all to herself. I don’t know what she thinks she’s going to do for him, unless by “finding his true voice” she means, “help him realize he loves me, me, only me!”

You are not a martyr, Lucy. You are a shameless side chick, doing your best to break this dysfunctional couple up so that you can live happily ever after with the cheater. Whatever you’ve sacrificed, you’ve chosen to sacrifice.

When we were together, he’d talk to other women besides us. He’d give them an hour conversation here, a meet up there, and some pretty pictures to look at. He’d kiss them, and in the very beginning, or the first year and a half, he’d have sex with them. He liked the attention and couldn’t say no.

Just to be clear, this charming Romeo that you are fighting for is not only cheating on his girlfriend with you, but also “cheats” on you with other women? He kisses them and flirts with them and sends them pictures? And this is the guy you think you’re destined to be with? He sounds amazing!

I was just happy to have someone who was so similar to me, to share little bits of my life with. Though he’d make promises to me in the long term, I’d brush everything off, and wonder when I’d truly get fed up with the games. I had suspicions that there was truth to my intuitions, but I always struggled every time I left because I always wanted hard proof.

You’re a lying cheater who fucks everything that moves, too? You two seem to be a perfect match.

Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps his girlfriend had all those same suspicions and all those same hopes as you did?

I believe in monogamy, I believe in dedication, and a love that people are willing to fight for, so that’s what I showed him.

How can you say you believe in monogamy with a straight face when this entire time you’ve been fucking around with someone else’s partner?

He struggled with depression, and addiction to vices. Instead of taking care of himself he would turn to his vices in order to feel better.

Bravo, Lucy. I can understand why you are pick me dancing so damn hard.

Yes, yes! He’s a liar and a cheater, but wait- that’s not all! He’s an addict, too! For the low, low price of your dignity and self-worth this amazing man can be yours. Not all yours, but yours. Must be willing to dance real pretty and as long as it takes to prove your loyalty (and stupidity).

You’ve got the sacred trifecta, Lucy- liar, cheater, addict. Nothing can derail this blessed union.

The Delusional Side Chick, Part 1

I came across a blog post entitled, “I Was the ‘Side Chick’”. The short version is this: I was the side chick. He had a long-term girlfriend that he cheated on all the time. I can’t believe she let him get away with that. She knew and she did nothing! Have some respect, woman! But me- I knew what I was getting into. I was the side chick and I was special. Even when he was fucking other women besides the long-term girlfriend. Eventually I won him. Yea me!

Let’s dig in, shall we?

My phrase was, “It doesn’t matter what he does with the other women; all that matters is what he does with me.”

How is that any different from the long-term girlfriend’s thinking?

I knew about her, but I didn’t. He was really bad at hiding her, and I could see all the signs. He’d lie about her, and he’d lie about him, and he lied about them, and he kept us a secret to most.

He did not like them on a train. He did not like them in the rain. He did not like them in a house. He did not like them with a mouse. He did not like green eggs and ham. He did not like them, Sam I Am!

So which is it, Delusional? Can I call you Lucy for short? You knew about her but you didn’t know about her. If you know about her then you know about her and there’s no not knowing about her. I think the phrase you were looking for is, “I knew about her but I didn’t care.”

She was the long-term girlfriend that he couldn’t break up with. She enabled his bad habits and never asked questions. She didn’t want to know. She had been with him almost two years.

Are you sure she knew, Lucy? Maybe, like you, she knew but she didn’t know. Maybe he lied about you and lied about him and then lied about the two of you and kept you a secret from her.

She was the long-term girlfriend he couldn’t break up with? Maybe the correct terminology would be he didn’t want to break up with her. Because all that enabling his bad habits and never asking questions worked for him. I’m sure it drove you nuts, Lucy. What is wrong with that woman? Can’t she tell I’m fucking her boyfriend? When is she ever going to get fed up and leave him so I can take that handsome, lying, cheating dreamboat off her hands? I’m equally sure he loved it. So many kibbles!

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I met his friends and family, and was a major part of his life. I welcomed him into my family, and eagerly showed him all that I was willing to show, about who I really am.

Wait a minute! I thought he kept you a secret to most. Now you’re telling us he introduced you to friends and family and that you were a major part of his life. Hmmm…. I’m intrigued.

It also seems that the long-term girlfriend was not the only one burying her head in the sand.

He had been cheating on her from the start, and that’s what helped him convince me that he was single. She made herself into his whipping girl and I wasn’t okay with that. She was beautiful, and she had potential, but she didn’t fight for herself.

Hold up, Lucy. Are you saying that because he had been cheating on her from the very beginning that you felt it was okay for you to try to claim him as your very own? Or are you saying that because he had never been faithful a day in his life he was awesome at lying and making you believe things that weren’t the truth? Wow- you have a major winner there!

You have no idea what this girl made herself into you. You have the word of a liar. It’s also presumptuous of you to talk about how you weren’t okay with that while you continue to cheat with him. I’m sure she values your critique of her; she must be positively giddy that her boyfriend’s side chick thinks she has potential. You are a delusional cunt, Lucy.

Him and I, we had an off again, on again type of relationship, as I struggled to teach him how to leave. I would go no contact and give him space. Once, we broke up for almost a year.

Sounds to me like Lucy was doing the ol’ pick me dance. She “struggled to teach him how to leave” so that he could be hers and hers alone. For the love of God, why are you still with that beautiful woman filled with pacifist potential? Don’t you see what a prize I am? Don’t you want to be with me all of the time? Forever? Please pick me! Oh fine! If you’re going to continue to use her as your whipping girl, instead of me, then we’re over! I’ve blocked you on social media! I’ve blocked your number on my phone. No texts. No calls. You’ll be sorry!

In Sickness and In Health

I was reading that other board that I’ve read for the last ten years or so. Somehow the topic of taking care of your sick, cheating spouse came up. One of the women knew someone who had found out after her husband died that he had been cheating on her the entire time he was sick. She wished she had known because she wouldn’t have bothered to take care of him.

I think that’s a pretty understandable stance to take. And yet, there were others who said they would care for their spouse regardless.

Is it any wonder infidelity is glossed over the way it is? Here we have a man who is actively cheating on his wife while he goes through chemo. He’s sexting his AP and meeting up with her in between treatments when he’s well enough while his wife is left to do the hard work. The AP gets sex and promises, dinners and sexy texts, and a guy who gives her a case of the crotch tingles, and his wife gets to drive him to chemo appointments, wait for hours while he’s being treated, and clean up his vomit and diarrhea afterwards. And there are actually people out there who not only don’t see what the problem is but also try to frame it as though it is a character issue and anyone not willing to look pass the lies and humiliation obviously isn’t as good of a person as they are. It’s as though there is a moral failure with those of us who choose to cut toxic people out of our lives. Their mantra seems to be: When someone shows you who they are, bury your head in the sand and keep pretending they’re the person you want them to be.

One person said, “I would choose compassion, too. I think people often justify not having a compassionate response by pointing out how the person “should” have behaved.”

Hmmm…. interesting. Here’s a head scratcher for ya: Why isn’t the soul mate/twu wuv taking care of her schmoopie? I would think the compassionate response would be to let the AP take care of the sick person. You wouldn’t want that terminally ill Lothario to spend his last months with the horrid, asexual wife, would you? Isn’t it only fair that these two soul mates, destined to be together, aren’t kept apart for one. more. minute?

If the answer is because the AP only wants the fun parts of the relationship and none of the work I would say sometimes that’s what happens when you trade in your spouse for what’s behind Door #2. Sometimes you lay there in your own shit and vomit because your twu wuv doesn’t want to take care of you and you fired your former spouse from that job. Good news, though! Once you’re up and feeling better (and no longer making a mess… ewwww!) your soul mate will once again be available for fun times.

One of the ladies did remark at one point that if the situation were turned around the cheater would have no problem leaving his wife’s body in the middle of the street. She also recounted a story of how a friend’s grandmother nursed her husband back to health, and then when she got breast cancer he left her for another woman. To which someone else (also a very enlightened soul who wouldn’t let a little thing like infidelity steer her course) replied: For me it’s more of I won’t let another person’s actions dictate or change the person I am just by nature.

What bullshit. This is just more excuses, more blaming the betrayed spouse, expecting everything from the cheated on while expecting nothing from and giving everything to the cheating spouse. I will repeat: It is not a moral failure to cut toxic people out of your life. If your spouse cheats on you and you choose to walk away it’s not a horrible failing on your part. Cheaters are not entitled to forgiveness, or being taken care of when they’re sick and find out their fuck buddies are only available for the good times.

Again I ask is it any wonder that we betrayed spouses face the uphill battle we do? It’s our fault. If we had been thinner, smarter, blonder, tanner, had more muscles, nagged less, put out more, cooked vegan, baked cakes, etc. then we could have prevented our spouse from cheating on us. Now that we have accepted the fact that it’s our fault the cheating happened then it behooves us to continue to shove that shit sundae down our gullet and take whatever else humiliation the cheater has in store for us.

We’re mean if we don’t want to take care of a cheating spouse. It’s not fair that we expect their AP to do that job. We’re horrible people who judge and impose unfair consequences and hey, who died and made you God? You’ve no right to judge that person who has gutted you. If you weren’t such a bitter, hateful person you would gladly mop up all that puke and shit and let them bounce off with Pop Tart once they were feeling better. I’m so glad I’m a more enlightened person who would never let a person’s awful behavior dictate my own behavior. I will swallow mounds of shit in order to prove to everyone that I am a better person!

Again I say bullshit. There is absolutely nothing wrong with refusing to be treated like an appliance. There is nothing wrong with saying, “Your behavior is unacceptable and I will not stand by while you treat me this way.” There is nothing wrong with saying, “This is not acceptable and I will not tolerate it one second longer.” There is also absolutely nothing wrong with telling Romeo that if he wants to fuck Pop Tart when he’s feeling 100% then by golly you’re stepping aside and she can wipe his ass when he’s at his lowest.

This idea that we operate in a vacuum is ludicrous. If every time my fictitious friend Rosie comes up to me she spits in my face and bites my nose, I’m going to stop hanging around with her. And yes, by golly, her behavior does dictate my behavior. If Rosie weren’t a violent asshole who assaulted me I’m sure I would be wiling to spend time with her.

If every time my fictitious friend Cinnamon comes over she steals things from my house, I’m going to stop inviting her over. And yes, by golly, her behavior does dictate my behavior. If she weren’t stealing me blind every time I had her over for dinner I would continue to invite her over. But since she steals from me I’m severing this relationship and not giving her another opportunity to take shit that doesn’t belong to her.

If every time I hang out with my fictitious friend Hannah she lies right to my face I’m going to stop hanging out with her because it’s very difficult to have any kind of a friendship with a person who lies to you constantly. Again, you might have guessed it by now. Her behavior, her lying, does dictate my behavior- whether or not I’m willing to be friends with her.

So can we please stop acting like fucking a person suddenly gives them special permission to do whatever they want to you? I wouldn’t lobby the prison and ask to take care of my terminally ill rapist. I wouldn’t volunteer to take care of the person who killed my mom or child. I wouldn’t wipe the ass of my kidnapper or clean up the vomit of my mugger or give rides to the doctor’s to the guy who embezzled money from my company. Why would I offer to do that for the person who lied to me, cheated on me, humiliated me, and financially raped me?

This is the kind of crap we come up against in real life all the time. Once you leave the comfy confines of Chump Lady’s blog you usually run into all the people who don’t think infidelity is the real problem. They want to examine it from all different angles and assign percentages of blame (because the cheater didn’t cheat in a vacuum, of course). They want to encourage being friends with the cheater and doing things for them. In fact, there is no greater sign of maturity than claiming to be “best friends” with your cheater and socializing with them. The problems occur when the bitter, betrayed chump refuses to forgive, refuses to be besties, refuses to do photo ops, refuses to cooperate, refuses to maintain the cheater’s image. Yeah… I don’t think so.

There is something awful about this idea that even though we know if we were the ones who were sick this person would walk away without a second glance, would happily dance on our grave, would fuck someone else while we crawled to the toilet to vomit and then cleaned up after ourselves because no one was there to help us, that we are somehow morally lacking if we don’t rush to help this person. There is something horrible about this idea that even when someone is betraying us and humiliating us and using us we are supposed to say, “Let me help you. I want to take care of you. It is my duty.” There is something almost evil about this idea that people who wouldn’t consent to being mistreated in such a way are somehow lacking compassion and humanity. We are somehow less than those people who would fall all over themselves to help an abuser.

It brings to mind the story of the boy and the frozen snake. You know the story, right? A boy comes across a half frozen snake on the mountain top. The snake begs the boy to take pity on him, put him in his pocket and take him down to the base of the mountain. The boy says, “No! You are poisonous. You’ll bite me and I’ll die.” The snake assures him that he wouldn’t do that to the boy; if he would do this one favor for him he promises not to bite him. Please! He’ll die if the boy doesn’t take pity on him and help him out! So being a kind soul (one of those non-judging sorts) the boy takes pity on the snake and picks him up and puts him in his pocket. As he walks down the mountain the temperatures slowly rise and the snake slowly begins to thaw out. Not long before they get to the bottom the snake bites the boy, sending a shot of venom though his body, essentially killing him. “Why did you do that to me? I took pity on you! I carried you down the mountain as you asked. You promised you wouldn’t bite me!” To which the snake replies, “You knew what I was when you picked me up.”

#riseup

 

The Highlight Reel

This is the second part in my five part series on the stupidity of pain shopping. You can read the first part here. Let me serve as a lesson to you! Don’t do it!

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I embarked on some “research”. First up was a new picture of her kids on vacation. It might have been Tennessee but it could have easily been somewhere else as well.

They looked like they were having fun. I don’t know if CF came along or if good ol’ Harley is finally learning the joys of life with him. In my mind he came along, because this is Life 2.0. He’s new and improved. He’s the doting husband and the beloved daddy, always ready for adventures with this new version of his family. Naturally, in my narrative he’s telling Harley how much he loves going on vacation and how I would never let him accompany us, how he missed out on so many of these adventures with his own children because of me.

Of course, I also notice the missing fourth child. I guess he wouldn’t play happy family or accept CF as his brand new daddy so he needed to be eradicated. Not even a mention of missing him.

I go back and forth between hoping he has a damn anxiety attack on the way back (or while there) that she needs to deal with and wondering if there was some magic formula I didn’t know existed that would have made him enjoy vacationing with his kids and me. Why does he do this with her and her kids when he would never do it with his own kids?

I see the pictures once again of the happy couple on their wedding day and honeymoon, I suppose. Everyone congratulating them and telling them how happy they are for them. I roll my eyes at the stupidity. It’s laughable. Two cheaters promising to love, honor and forsake all others. Yes, they’ve both got a real good grasp on how marriage is supposed to work.

I so badly want to comment and ask those people if they’re aware of the price her husband, her one son, my kids, and I all had to pay for their happiness. Do you think she’s entitled to happiness at my expense? At my kids’ expense?

I sleep on a couch. My daughter has spent two years basically with her head down just doing her damnedest to graduate and get the hell out of here, to start all over in college. My son, instead of hanging out with friends, stays locked in his room playing video games. We live on a busy street, not a neighborhood. There are no kids around he could hang out with.

But they’re happy and they deserve it because apparently I was a horrible, evil, mean person who tried to shit all over their happiness. No one cares what their happiness did to anybody else’s life.

She wants everyone to know that lazy days spent on the couch in front of the fire with her beloved are her favorite kind of Sunday. He’s got the remote in his hand so he hasn’t changed that much.

I see her incessantly calling him out, mentioning him, tagging him. “I love my veteran!”, “Waiting to watch the fight!” (from their home, on the couch, with him), and letting everyone know how they’re “getting their Halloween on”. Wow- you managed to get him to watch something other than Ice Road Truckers or Mountain Men? Congratulations! You didn’t get him out from under the television altogether but at least you’re watching together.

Again I wonder: Why not with me? Why can he suddenly do all these family and couple oriented things with her that he never could with me? Their life seems to be like a cozy, warm sweater. They carve pumpkins, sip hot apple cider, and watch Halloween movies together. I’m sure Christmas is now magical as well for him.

I see all their happy couple pictures and people cooing all over them. “Beautiful!” “Such a happy couple!” “So nice to finally see you happy!” My former in-laws are the worst offenders. And so incredibly stupid.

My late former mother-in-law shouts out to all on Facebook that, “That’s my baby boy and he’s going to make them my family, too!” Really? Aren’t they already your family? I could have sworn you told me that day you sat in my kitchen that you couldn’t cut her off because she was family. She might be a whore, but gosh darn it, Sam, she’s family, too! I see my evil ex sister-in-law gush that she loves them.

Funny side note: Maybe it’s a woman thing but I definitely noticed how Harley was always commenting on their pages once CF broke things off with her. She didn’t comment much at all before her affair with him but she was all over it once she got dumped. Imagine my surprise when I saw that she’s not falling all over herself to comment on every insipid post and each picture. Curious.

Always there are the obligatory compliments: You are so beautiful. Pretty. Great picture of you, whore.

I freely admit it has always been a sore spot that my former in-laws never missed a chance to tell her how wonderful she looked, while ignoring me.

I posted a new profile picture (obviously this was back when we were still married). Keep in mind I am not the type of person who changes profile pictures every week. That would be Harley. I think this was the first change in two years. Two years! On top of that I had just got my hair cut. I had kept my hair styled basically the same way for years! This was a major change and the most I got from any of them was, “That hairstyle looks nice on you.”

Maybe the former in-laws always thought I was very ugly and wondered what on earth their beloved prince was doing with such an unsuitable specimen. Maybe they like the Hillbilly Whore look. Who knows?

I do my best to shake my head and continue on.

I see all of the pictures of her adorable animals. Most of them purchased by my then-husband. Couldn’t give me money for a homecoming dress for his daughter but he could buy them new animals.

To inject just a brief moment of sanity in this I will note that I don’t see the pets she used to pose with. I wonder if she discarded them like she discarded her son and husband. Much like her new husband discarded his family and pets. Oh well, everything is replaceable, right?

I see her update on moving into their new home. That’s nice, bitch. I live with my mom. My kids don’t have a home of their own. It’s nice that thanks to my husband’s money (and he was my husband at this point in time) your kids are able to move into the nicest home they’ve ever lived in. It’s fantastic that things are going so swell for your kids. Well, except the one you abandoned.

Guess what? She later reveals she loves their new home. There’s so much for her kids to do! I’m so happy for them.

There’s the post about her youngest banging his head in the pool and needing stitches. Don’t worry, though, because New Daddy was on the job keeping him calm, happy, and stuffed with candy!

Awww… that’s so sweet. I’m glad he can act like a father for your kids. Too bad he’s done nothing for his own. To be fair he did manage to make a few ER trips with us (hey- my kid was a gymnast; she got hurt a lot!) but that pales in comparison to what he’s done to them the last 2 years. Maybe we should start calling her youngest, “Mulligan” since he seems to be CF’s do-over.

There were the pictures of the family outing to the zoo- two whole hours away to boot! I guess that PTSD must be in remission, huh? I suppose since he’s no longer trying to con me out of sufficient child and spousal support he can fully enjoy life as the asshole he is.

Oh, there it is! Yet another new profile picture of the whore so that everyone can compliment her and tell her how pretty she is. There’s CF chiming in, “Gorgeous!”  Really? I was married to that sonofabitch for twenty fucking years. Granted, he was not on Facebook long while we were married and most of the time I imagine he spent trying to fuck other women, but not once did he bother to compliment me.

It bothered me when I was married to him. It bothered me when we were wreck-onciling. He knew it bothered me. I told him it bothered me. His excuse? “I see you everyday! Why would I bother to comment on Facebook when I can tell you in person?”

That’s a good question. Why is he bothering to comment on Facebook when he could just go home and tell her?  Better question: If he really wants to let everyone know how special she is why doesn’t he tell her that she’s worth the thousands of dollars he has to pay out every month? I would think that would be a huge compliment! “Your pussy is so fantastic I don’t mind paying out thousands of dollars a month for it!” or maybe, “You were worth abandoning my children!” Hmmm… perhaps that does not convey the message they want to convey…

I see more pictures of the happy couple posing in front of scenery that does not resemble Kentucky. Maybe they travel a lot now. How convenient. It’s nice to know he spent twenty years wasting my life and making me do everything solo because he got such anxiety anytime he ventured outside of his house. I think the mobster is right and Harley very much is his seeing eye dog. With her by his side as his faithful companion he can go places he once only dreamed of.

One last new snapshot- one of her daughter and her two smiling sons. They’re all going out to celebrate her birthday. I think it’s wonderful that he can finally go out for birthday dinners once again. The last year he lived in the house, the last birthday each of my kids had before finding out that their family was going to be shattered and their lives torn apart, he was simply too upset and anxious to go out and celebrate. He stayed behind, probably texting the whore, while I took the two of them out. Who cares if he fucked over his own kids, right? The important part is that he’s doing right by her kids.

Once again I see the picture of CF with Mulligan at Show and Tell. It was Veteran’s Day. This year she improved upon the picture with a cutesy frame that told everyone who cared to listen that she loved her veteran. The year before though it was simply about how pleased Mulligan was that New Daddy/Cousin Daddy (Caddy?) could be there.

You know what I thought about? I thought about the time he snapped at Picasso because he wanted his dad to drop him off at school. Good ol’ Daddy was anxious and didn’t know how to navigate the carpool lane. The man can fight a fucking war and blow shit up, but a line of cars whipping through the horseshoe drive in front of the school just wipes him out.

I thought about the time he got pissy with me because I needed him to run to Target and grab a gift out of the dollar bin and bring it back up to the school for Rock Star so she could participate in her classroom Christmas party. As always, shooting people and blowing shit up is easy; a quick trip to Target is life threatening. He will probably need psychological counseling for the rest of his life because of it.

Once again I see them posing the day of her daughter’s cheerleading competition- him posing in a t-shirt with her high school name and mascot on it. Both of them gushing about how important it was to be there for her. “He must love her so much to wear that t-shirt!” “Oh, it was painful to put that Cardinals t-shirt on but I wanted to support her.”

He never saw his daughter cheer or compete as a cheerleader one single time. He never went to a single high school gymnastics meet. At the time he was saying this he had moved out of the state without saying a word to either of his kids and he hadn’t seen them in over eighteen months. Yes, it was so important that he support the daughter of the whore he’s fucking.

And always there are the comments. Comments from people I used to call family. Comments from people who still try to act like they care about me and my kids while they support that fucking whore and her kids. Comments from people who used to be family shouting out how happy they are with the jolly new couple, how much they love them, how much they love Everything. About. Them. They are so proud and this is their family. Tammy Faye cooing over the newest grandchildren. She loves them so much! Doesn’t seem to give a shit about her actual grandchildren but the whore’s kids? She was on that shit quick!

As tempting as it may be, don’t do it! Don’t pain shop. Maintain no contact (and that includes social media). You may think you can handle it, that it will be no big deal, but feelings will come. I promise you this. Even if the majority of those feelings are rage and anger it is still a lot to deal with. It can still mess with your head. Even knowing they are masters at image management, even knowing that truly happy people don’t have to make a huge show of their relationship every day and every hour on social media, even knowing he is the problem and she is a whore, it can still make you doubt yourself.

Beyond the Grave & Other Exciting Tales

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

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

She sounded sick and frail.

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

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

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

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

#truth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Word About Being Bitter

Bitter is just one of those catch all words they use to make you shut up.

I read that one time by a commenter over on Chump Lady. I paraphrased a bit but the message is the same. I think it’s very true. I’ve also pointed out before that people are uncomfortable with people being angry. You can be sad. For an appointed amount of time. You can be upset or distraught. Also for a pre-determined length of time. But anger is a no-no. People don’t know how to react and they get uncomfortable. Then they try to shut you down.

I won’t be shut down. I’m righteously angry and I’ll get over it when I’m damn well ready to. I’m in the fight of my life right now. I don’t have time to pretend that everything is sunshine and rainbows and unicorns eating fairy dust mixed with golden nuggets.

With that out of the way I have to say I’m amused at how many of the “new” commenters on my blog the other day referred to me as “bitter”, “filled with rage”, and “angry”. Honestly, I felt kinda like I did that night when I read Cousinfucker’s texts to Jezebel, telling her that I wrote horrible things about him and said he was annoying me and wasting my time. I couldn’t believe I had written such vile things about him; when I looked back it turned out I hadn’t. It was a figment of his imagination. Completely. I had written nothing during this time he said I was maligning him. I did the same thing this time; I had to go back and re-read because I thought I had gone kind of easy on the original author. I thought, “Maybe I’m crazy and I really did do a hatchet job.” But no. It was pretty tame compared to some of what I write. I did concede to one commenter that I probably could have picked a better title. Perhaps, “Another Option” or “A Different Path” might have been a better title than “More Bad Advice”. It would have suited it better seeing as how I didn’t think his advice was totally off the wall insane and horrible.

I mean, I dared to tell people that might not have the fuzziest of feelings towards their ex that it wasn’t the end of the world. That it was normal and they shouldn’t beat themselves up. I even made a joke about it not being as if they actually had the power to do something by simply thinking about it and if they could then to please think about me buying the winning Powerball ticket. Funny stuff. Not angry. Not bitter. Not raging.

I did take issue with this idea that somehow I was to blame for picking an asshole to father my children. He wasn’t an asshole when I married him. Or at least he hid it well. I never in a million years would have pegged him as a guy who would cheat on me. I thought maybe he would leave me one day but I never thought he’d cheat. Jeez freakin’ Louise, I had one of his friends tell me CF would never cheat. He was supposedly too loyal. I also never thought he would abandon his children or flat out refuse to pay child and spousal support. Joke’s on me because he’s done all three of those things.

I dared to suggest that planning events on your own time, or finding a support system that doesn’t include your ex, or buying another whatever item is needed is a perfectly legitimate way to navigate this divorced parenting situation. How horrible! I didn’t say DON’T cooperate with one another. I said, “Hey, don’t feel guilty if that doesn’t work for you. Instead of kissing your ex’s ass, especially if the ex is an ass, think about these alternatives.” But apparently that is talking out of both sides of your mouth. You know, you agree that something can be good or at least not harmful and then suggest an alternative.

I also said I had no problem with parents sharing information and that I think it’s a shitty thing to do to your kid when you won’t let them contact their other parent. But apparently the fact that I no longer consider myself CF’s personal secretary is an affront to everyone who loves being buddy-buddy with their ex.

I will say again it’s not a side effect of treating your ex well that should insure you know about doctor’s appointments and school happenings and athletic events. In some cases, your ex should be telling you regardless. Kinda like what I did when I let CF know about Rock Star’s injuries over the summer. I told him despite the fact that he hasn’t seen her in over a year. Not because we’re best buds, not because he treats me well, but because he is her father and as the default custodial parent I have an obligation to share.

I also ventured forth with this radical idea of actually talking to your child to get information. That, apparently, is bitterness speaking because anyone with an ounce of common sense knows you can’t ask your own child what they are up to. <<< BTW, that was sarcasm in case you couldn’t catch it.

I said repeatedly that most of the things he views as a perk for treating your ex well could very easily be seen as treating your child well. It hurts your child when they are prevented from talking to the other parent. It hurts your child when they’d like to see their favorite cousin who is in town for the weekend but can’t because the parents won’t switch weekends or give extra time- just because.

I dared to speculate that some of those kids who aren’t healthy and happy aren’t healthy and happy because of the other parent’s behavior and not because their parents aren’t acting like they’re best friends despite the divorce. I’m sure any issues my friend’s daughters may have is not due to the fact that their mom doesn’t want to sit next to their father at a school or sporting event. More than likely it’s due to the fact that he is an out of control alcoholic who attempted to strangle one of them. But I could be wrong and maybe everything would be fine if only Mommy and Daddy would be best friends. <<< more sarcasm

I also suggested that maybe you need new friends if you have to continue to act like everything your ex does is wonderful, even when it’s not wonderful. I guess that’s the bitterness talking. Or maybe the rage. I tend to think it’s practical. They’re not really your friends if they’re fine with someone gutting you. I prefer my friends be loyal to me, not my spouse who left me. Your mileage might vary. But what do I know? I’m the person that has pretty much cut off everyone in CF’s circle if they support him and the whore. Self-preservation and sanity are such frowned upon commodities!

I stand by my suggestion that even if you can’t stand your ex that you can still show up at child related functions and support your kid. You don’t need to sit next to the ex. No one needs to be fooled into thinking the two of you are still married. Why is that so freaking important if you wanted a divorce anyway? You put on your big boy or big girl panties and you go and support your child. I’ll put forth an even more radical notion. If you simply cannot bear to be around the ex it’s fine to skip an event or two, or to even take turns going. Your kid is not going to die or suffer some sort of self-esteem issue if both Mommy and Daddy are not at every single function the kid has. My first choice, of course, would be to just go and deal. It’s usually a pretty big space so you shouldn’t have to see or interact with the ex anyway. But if it is that unbearable don’t go. It doesn’t mean you’re a horrible parent if you don’t go. It doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person if you don’t go and hang out with your ex.

I will vehemently oppose this idea I need to accept the fact that I loved, or still love him in some way in order to feel better about myself. And the idea that we now have a new kind of love along with a brand new family model.

No, I don’t love him. I don’t even like him. The fact that I loved him at one point in time is irrelevant. At one point in my life I wanted to be a veterinarian. That does not mean I am one now. At one point, not that long ago, CF was depositing his entire paycheck into our joint checking account. That’s not happening anymore either. The fact that it used to doesn’t mean shit; it certainly isn’t paying my bills.

I’m not rejecting any sort of reality by realizing that the marriage we once had is now over. I’m not rejecting any sort of reality by recognizing that the person I thought my husband was does not exist; in fact, he may never have existed. I’m sure as hell not rejecting reality by not wanting to be best of friends with the disordered, lying, cheating sonofabitch. He’s not a good person. I like to hang around good people.

We do not have a new kind of love and we do not have a brand new family model. Divorce ends families. It does not create a new, better kind of family. It reminds me of that crap he tried to pull shortly after I discovered his affair. He was all, “Let’s build a new relationship built on happiness for one another; let’s show our kids that happiness is vital for our well being.” Fuck you, Cousinfucker! That’s easy enough for you to say. You’ve got your new life all mapped out. You did it before you ever left. You’ve got a new whore, new kids; you’re looking for a new job and are planning on moving to a new state. And what do I have? I’m destitute, being left to raise two kids who have lived a life of privilege. I don’t have a new man. I don’t have a fucking job. And I’m the one being left to pick up all of the pieces of the family you’ve broken while you go along your merry little way without taking a second glance back. If that’s rage or bitterness talking, well, I’m okay with that.

Once again, I think it’s being practical. I think you end up being a hell of a lot better off not thinking that your ex owes you anything. I’ll go so far as saying you end up faring a hell of a lot better when you don’t rely upon them. You never know when the new family will take precedence, when the new girlfriend or current mistress will get upset with something you’ve tried to work out together, when it will simply no longer be convenient for your ex to assist you. Stepkids or new babies can easily become the priority. What happens if the ex moves with the new family and now he or she is no longer there to help out with your shared child? You’re kinda screwed; instead of cultivating a new support system, one that doesn’t include the person who made vows to you and then called, “Take back!” at best, who lied and cheated and has attempted to destroy you at worst, you’ve relied upon your ex. You relied upon the very person you shouldn’t have because they’ve already shown you that they don’t keep their word. Why?

Because the Internet is full of people who will tell you to stuff down shit sandwich after shit sandwich for the good of the children. It’s full of people who will tell you that if you’re not “friends” with your ex then obviously you are bitter and angry and can’t move on. And that makes the children sad.

I was also amazed at all the concern over my children finding my blog and being hurt by what they read, and this idea that there was no way I could keep my feelings from my kids.

First, as I already pointed out, the Internet is a very big place. I highly doubt they will stumble upon it. Second, if they did come across it I’m not writing about anything they haven’t already lived through. They are fully aware that their father deserted them. They are fully aware of the fact that he’s having an affair with his cousin. They are fully aware that everyone in his immediate family is perfectly fine with his affair and that they think it is wonderful. They are also fully aware of the fact that we had to move out of our home and out of the state because he lost his job and made absolutely no attempt to pay support. My daughter is fully aware of the fact that she had to switch high schools right before her junior year and that she didn’t get her license until she was almost 17 because she had to start all over with a learner’s permit a month before she was due to get her license.

I chose not to lie to my kids. They were 13 and 15 when this happened. When they asked where their dad was after yet another disappearing act on his behalf I answered honestly. He’s in his home state with his girlfriend. Remember, this is the same man who couldn’t go out to dinner with us. He couldn’t go out to dinner with his own kids for their birthdays because he was “afraid” of breaking down. He stayed secluded in the bedroom and couldn’t go out. Naturally they are curious as to how it is that he is suddenly taking off for the weekend every time they turn around. I was honest. I wasn’t going to try to gaslight them or fall on my sword for the lying jackass. When they asked me if everyone down there knew about the affair I replied simply, “Yes.” When her voice got higher and she asked, “And they’re okay with it?” My answer once again was a simple yes.

I’m also perfectly capable of not talking to my kids about everything I might talk to another adult about. There are so many awful things that he has done that my kids have no idea about because I didn’t share it with them. $30k blown on the whore and her kids on such important things as sporting equipment, eye care, Vera Bradley, and numerous restaurants? Didn’t tell them. Him accompanying her youngest to show and tell? Never said a word. Him donning a t-shirt with her daughter’s school mascot and going to her cheerleading competition? Didn’t mention it. Spending just as much, if not more, on her kids for Christmas? They have no idea because I never told them. The engagement ring he bought the whore? The puppies (yes, plural) he bought her kids? The promises of a car to her oldest? They know nothing about any of that. Talking about how much the whore misses having him in her bed when he returns home after a long weekend? Again, not me talking about it. Him moving into a new house that looks almost exactly like our old home? Have not clued them in. Would you like to take a guess as to who it is that posts all that kind of crap over Facebook? Harley and CF!

Harley loves Facebook. She loves tagging her brand new love in all of her posts. She loves letting everyone know how blissfully happy she is now that she has cheated on her husband and is fucking mine! Why wouldn’t she? She gets major kibbles from all the sycophants around her, telling her how happy she looks and how she deserves it. I think she deserves a quick roundhouse kick to the head but that’s neither here nor there and we’re getting off track. The main point is it’s pretty silly to clutch your pearls and moan in despair that one day the children might read your blog when dear old Dad and his whore of a cousin post about that crap on a public Facebook page! Um, CF has sent a friend request to his daughter numerous times; I think she’s actually accepted it. So… maybe if knowing that her dad couldn’t be bothered to attend many of her sporting events while he hightails it to the whore’s kid’s events proudly wearing her high school colors might cause his own daughter pain then might I suggest he and the whore not post about that shit where she can read it? I can goddamn guarantee she can find her dad’s Facebook page (especially considering they are friends) a hell of a lot easier than she can find my blog.

I think my favorite part though was when it was suggested that my kids could sniff out fake-ness, suggesting that there was no way I could rage against Cousinfucker and call him “unsavory names” on my blog and yet still remind them of the (few) good things he had done, or try to recall the (few) good memories we had. Because again it’s almost impossible to vent in an anonymous blog and not say the exact same words verbatim to your kids… I have to wonder though, how authentic is it to force yourself to be friendly with someone who has walked all over you, humiliated you, lied to you, broken your heart, and shattered your life? Isn’t pretending that everything is just awesome and you love this new life that has been forced upon you fake?

That Time Sam Was Ready To Throw In the Towel

April 2015

My darling daughter crashed my car into the garage door on Friday.  Fortunately Zack was able to fix it.  He spent the weekend mostly in bed. And then today the dog knocked the trashcan over in the bedroom and I found 2 vodka bottles in there.  One probably didn’t have much in it to begin with but I’m pretty sure the Moscato flavored vodka was almost completely full.  So I’m getting pissed.

Honestly?  I don’t know how much more of this I can take.  I’ve dealt with his damn anxiety and depression for over 20 years.  I’ve dealt with his drama of thinking everything is a disaster, and his reluctance to help with the kids and be a partner to me.  For quite a few years now.  I’ve dealt with having to go to family events and family holidays without him; I’ve dealt with going on vacation without him because he wanted no part of it.  I’ve dealt with having no couples friends pretty much since OB.  I’ve dealt with low key holidays and him napping and everything else.  I’ve taken him to the ER every time he gets sick and I’ve dealt with and survived his affair with Harley, all the while he’s lying to me and humiliating me.  I’ve moved my ass from my home state to State #2 down to State #3 and back to State #2 before moving across the country to State #4 and then back across to State #5, all in the name of his career.  I’ve dealt with him being locked up in a psych ward.  I’m dealing with all the PTSD shit now.  But I’m not sure I can add on him becoming an alcoholic to my list.

I didn’t even spend that much time with him this weekend.  He slept most of the weekend.  Every time I went upstairs to check on him he was asleep.  I went out to grab some lunch from McCallister’s around 2 and he was up but when I came home he grabbed his food and went back upstairs.  I’m exhausted and I’m not even dealing with him. He has an appointment on June 2nd with a psychiatrist and I’ve got an appointment with my doctor tomorrow morning to be put on anti-depressants.  I hope to God it helps. I’m also trying to get him in to see a new therapist that does EMDR therapy.  At least that’s what Google is telling me.  I can end up calling and finding out she doesn’t do that after all. But I can at least try.  Like I said, I’m exhausted.  I don’t know what else to do.  I keep thinking I should call our pool contractor and cancel the pool because I don’t know what’s going on in our lives.  I try to be happy.  I try to look for the positives.  But then I’ve got all of this going on.  And I hate to shake up my kids’ lives yet again. So I guess I’m dedicated to making this work and doing everything I can to help him get better.

I’ll tell you, though, some days I wish that little bitch had gotten her way and he had left me for her.  I’d love to watch her deal with him, especially with the added guilt of what he had done to me and to his kids.  I don’t know why all this has bubbled to the surface lately.  I have my suspicions.  I am willing to believe it could possibly be because he finally got what he wanted in regards to work, and now if he’s not happy, well… where does he go from there?  It’s one of those what do you do when you’ve achieved the dream you’ve set for yourself situations?  Or, there is a slight chance I suppose that he’s leading a double life and the stress is killing him, but I give that about a 1-2% chance.  See?  I’m evolving!  More than likely the guilt and stress of him cheating on me and then moving us across the country (the man does not deal well with change) was already doing a number on him and then when Blockhead told him about my other FB page he completely lost it.  He was an anxiety ridden mess for a while but it’s gotten really bad over the last few months.

In other words, I have managed to send my husband to the psych ward.  I have damaged him perhaps beyond repair.  Is that fair?  I mean, I’m already dealing with this shit and trying to repair a a marriage and focus on the fucking future all the while I still have questions and my in-laws are fawning all over her, and now I’m supposed to stuff all of that deep down inside because it bothers my husband to know that I’m not totally, 100% over everything that went down.

I was thinking about this the other day.  As I’ve said before I have tons of time to think since I have no life here.  Here’s what I want to know (or at least some of what I want to know):  I want to know who made the first overtly sexual move.  I know he told her she looked fantastic.  I know she whined about her marriage.  I want to know who started the fucking affair.  Who made the first move?  Who took it from friendly conversation to soul mates destined to be together forever?  Was it her with her, “I can envision a future with you” remark?  Did he say something before that?  I don’t know, because he won’t answer my questions.  Or he conveniently forgets.  I want to know how he was planning on having a future with her but wasn’t going to leave me.  How was that possible?  What was he telling her?  What were they planning?  How much thought did they put into their little plan?  Did he tell R he wanted the Whoreville plant before he got involved with Harley, or did he tell him that once they decided he would move closer to her?  I want to know what the hell happened the day I confronted him.  I want to know why she sent that text message that made it sound like she was the one calling it off.  I want to know why on earth he was more concerned with her feelings than with mine, if indeed the truth was she sent it to save face or to prove to her husband that she ended things. What I want is to be able to go back in time and have him text her that it’s over, that his wife knows and she’s told him she’s done playing these games and that he needs to pick because she deserves to be happy too.  And then I want him to dig the knife in deeper and tell her that he’s chosen me, that he loves me and he’s always loved me and when he realized that he could lose me he also realized how much he loved me and wanted to make our marriage work. Finally, he would follow it up with:  It’s over.  I won’t be contacting you anymore and I want you to leave me alone as well.  My wife is my only focus now.  You were a terrible mistake and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to my wife.  Ok, ok, ok.  I know that’s pouring it on a little thick but that’s what I’d like.  I’m being honest.  No matter what he may have said to her in their conversation, when she texted him with all of her drivel he still chose to let her have that instead of slapping her down hard and thinking about me.  I want to know why in the hell she and her husband seemed to be divorcing right when we were buying a house in Whoreville, their target city.  I want to know why she was liking Tammy Faye’s post that talked about having a handsome son.  I want to know why in the hell that bitch was liking Tammy Faye’s post where she asked for prayers for Zack.  Those are some pretty damn big coincidences and I no longer believe in those.  I thought it was a quirky coincidence when she blocked me right after I had her picture up in our house.  Turned out it wasn’t a coincidence at all.  They were still having an affair and my husband told her about the pictures. And speaking of those pictures… I want to know exactly what was said about the pictures.  Did she ask if I was suspicious?  Did you tell her you thought maybe I suspected something?  How did that conversation go down because it’s pretty damn apparent to me now that she blocked me on purpose to let me know she was still messing around with you.  So what was said?  I’d love to know.

I could play this game all night and well, all year, really.  Hell, maybe the cunt is even more devious than I ever imagined and she knew full well that I had that other page and could use it to watch her.  Maybe she deliberately staged it so that when we bought our house she closed everything down so I would be suspicious.  Maybe she did the same for the other posts where the bitch shouldn’t have been liking anything having to do with them.  I think it’s rather elaborate but I wouldn’t completely put it past her either.

Oh well, I need to go.  I’ve got a lunch date with my husband tomorrow and I think I might eat a burrito before picking up Rock Star.  Tons of excitement here!

Present Day Sam Says: He probably was fooling around with the whore at this point. Little did I know when I said, “I sometimes wish that little bitch had gotten her way and he had left me for her,” that she was getting her way and he was planning his exit into her loving whore-y arms right then and there!

I find it interesting, too, that I decided drinking was the final nail in the coffin. I had already put up with so much but I wasn’t going to deal with an alcoholic as well. Would I have left if there was no infidelity but he continued with his drinking? I’d like to think I would have but I don’t know. This was April and I continued to spin straw into gold in my quest to keep this marriage alive. I think I might have stayed until the very end, although I was finally getting fed up with everything.

In the end it was good that he left. I don’t think I ever would have and he was killing all of us slowly. He’s still killing all of us; he’s just doing it a lot more quickly now!

It’s For the Best

There are few phrases coming out of cheater’s and their enabler’s mouths that I hate more than that one. It’s for the best. It all worked out. They’re both much happier now. They have more compatible partners. It was a blessing in disguise.

Fuck that! You know what? I am happier. The mobster is a much better match for me. He makes me happier than CF ever did. I am ecstatic that I no longer have to deal with his never ending list of issues or his constant unhappiness that can never be satisfied. I am glad I’m closer to family. I have realized how incredibly strong I am. My kids are thriving.

Those are all things that happened in spite of what he did to us!

He didn’t have an affair to make me happy. He didn’t have an affair so that I could see how strong I was. He didn’t have an affair so that his kids could be resilient. He didn’t have an affair to “free me from my burden of being his wife” or so that I could meet the love of my life. He didn’t have an affair so that I could move closer to family and the kids could be around their cousins. No, he had an affair because he wanted to. Because Harley the Whore was available and eager to spend our marital assets in exchange for her services. The only person he was thinking of was himself. He didn’t give a shit about our happiness. It was all about his happiness.

He never once considered us or what his selfish choices would do to our lives. So no, he doesn’t get to say it all turned out for the best. None of his sniveling enablers get to say it either. My kids and I, we found happiness and we thrived despite what CF and Harley did to us. I can assure everyone reading this that we were not even a blip on his radar when he made the decision to resume his affair with Harley.

That’s the sad reality with cheaters and their enablers. If they can point to the end result and proclaim everyone “so much better off” then they don’t have to consider all the horrible things that were done. They can ignore all of that.

“Oh, you were forced to move out of your home, forced to move out of the state, and had to tear your lives apart once again? La la la la la la la… I can’t hear you! All I see is happy kids and a happy ex-wife. (Of course, the most important factor is that CF and Harley are happy.) Nothing to see here, folks. Just rainbows and unicorns. All is well.”

Yes, I’m sure John Walsh is thanking his lucky stars that his precious sweet Adam was kidnapped and murdered. After all, it led to such a lucrative television career. When a child is missing in a store and they lock it down it’s now referred to as a Code Adam. How great is that? An ode to his child that never would have happened had a child predator kept his disgusting hands off that innocent six year old child. It all worked out in the end, right?

Bullshit!

I’ll go one step further. None of them- CF, Harley, Jezebel, Tammy Faye, Pastor Fake- care whether or not we’re happy. The only ones who matter are CF and Harley. I would venture to guess that they would actually prefer I be miserable, seeing as how I made poor pitiful CF so unhappy. I was such a horrible wife and person I deserve to live steeped in unending misery. The fact that any of us are happy only serves to assuage whatever tiny sliver of shame they may feel. Hell, probably not even that because I don’t think those people have a conscience. No conscience= no guilt, no shame.

So yeah, I’m finally happy. I’m not where I want to be yet but I’m on a path. I crawled through the bowels of Hell to get to this point. Almost two freaking years after finding out my husband is a lying, cheating, backstabbing, disrespecting piece of crap who uprooted me and my kids for a piece of gold digging, jailbird ass. I cried more tears in these last two years than I’ve cried in the rest of my entire life. I was completely broken. I lost almost everything. So many times I wanted to lay down and die. I kept going for my kids. That was the only reason because I sure as hell didn’t see a future for me. I dug myself out of this living grave, bit by bit. So when he or one of his cheater apologists want to tell everyone it truly was for the best and we’re both so much happier with our new partners (see Sam, he did you a favor!) I want to take a sledge hammer and smash their faces.

We’re all happy despite your cheating son/brother. My daughter was miserable for months. I went to Hell and back. We emerged from our misery; we fought back and we prevailed. Cheater Boy never had one moment of discomfort. He never had to comfort crying or disappointed kids. He never had to look them in the eye and answer their questions. He never had to watch as their lives as they knew them completely disappeared. He wasn’t around for the goodbyes. He wasn’t around for any of it. He chose a whore and her kids over his family. He was busy playing family with them so he didn’t have to deal with any of the fallout of his cheating. He went from the comfort of his former home, his wife, and his kids directly into a new home that he shared with Harley and her kids. When he left our home he chose to go; he wasn’t forced out, unlike us. He shed his old life like a snake sheds its skin. Out with the old; in with the new. There was no loneliness. He wasn’t discarded. He didn’t have to wonder if he was so hideous and unlovable that he would be alone forever. He didn’t have to wonder what would happen to him or his kids. He didn’t wonder what some other man had that he didn’t, didn’t have to wonder what made me turn to someone else. He never had to doubt his worth. He never had to wonder how he was going to support himself after fifteen plus years out of the workforce.

No! He cut me off financially, threw over $30,000 Harley’s way (while she cheated on him!), lived like a child free bachelor, used our home as an extended stay hotel, let me pay all the household expenses while he used the remaining money to play Sugar Daddy to the whore and her hooligans, sauntered off every weekend to fuck his whore, and created a brand new life that didn’t include his wife of 20 years or his teenage children.

To this day he refuses to do the right thing. He only paid his back support under court order and the threat of having to pay me an extra $10,000. He made one additional full support payment back in April. Since then he’s done nothing but play games. He hasn’t paid the equivalent of even one month of support.

I can assure you that any positives that have occurred since the napalming of our lives has been an oversight by CF. I’m fairly certain he wanted to destroy me. I sure as hell know he didn’t give one flying fuck about my happiness or his kids’ happiness.

Happiness was achieved in spite of him and Harley, not because their affair was some divining rod that brought bountiful blessings. So neither he nor anyone in his fucked up family get to say it was all for the best, or that it all worked out. I can say it. My kids can say it. He never gets to say it. He didn’t do what he did to make us happy. He only cared about himself and the whore.

CF, you and your entire family and fucked up friends can all take your chipper, “It’s for the best!” and shove it up your ass.