Trying To Make Sense of the Nonsense


March 2015

Let’s see them hack into this!  There is more than one way to skin a cat. At this point I switched over to journaling on my computer.

I’ve been thinking.  A lot.  Mainly about Jezebel and her comment, my favorite, about how he deserves so much better than me.  About my husband’s comment to his other sister, how it’s been 2 years and why can’t we just move on? About that sister and her snide message to me about me worrying about the house and then turning around and booking airline tickets. About being grateful.  About accepting reality.  About moving on. About pain shopping, which dovetails nicely with moving on.

OK, we’ll tackle moving on first.  It’s very difficult to move on when your husband doesn’t do the few basic things you’ve asked for in order to reconcile.  I told him that 1. He needed to send Harley a text and end things with her.  I wanted to see the text to prove that he actually sent it, and he was to have absolutely no contact with her after that. 2. He was to give up all passwords to me and remove the passcode from his phone. 3. We were going to attend marital counseling. 4. He was to never discuss our marital issues with Jezebel again.  What did he do?

Well, instead of sending her a text and ending it, he says he called her and ended it.  That’s nice, but that’s not what I wanted.  I had a purpose behind wanting you to send a text.  I wanted to see it in black and white.  I wanted to see him write:  My wife knows about you.  She gave me an ultimatum.  I choose her.  We’re done.  Don’t contact me ever again.  Did I get that?  No, I got the replay of his supposed phone call to her. And then I got her text which makes it look like he actually chose her and she ended it.  Furthermore, his response to her was based on not wanting to hurt her.  He felt bad for her.  Her- the mistress of 3 1/2 months.  Not me, the wife of almost 19 years.  I got a reply about honor and duty and obligation.  Not love.  Not choice.  Am I supposed to believe him without proof when I vividly recall asking him if she was worth losing his wife and kids, and he replied he knew he didn’t want to lose his kids?  Am I supposed to believe him when he would have sex with me and then turn around and walk out our door and text her good morning and then precede to talk to her on his entire 30 minute drive to work every.fucking.morning?  That is some strong faith, and if I’m not there yet so be it.  I figure I mainly believe him.  I only have doubts some of the time.  It’s been 2 years?  Nah, not really.  We’re coming up on 2 years of your half hearted confession where you couldn’t even admit you were doing something wrong, or that she was your whore.  You tried to make it sound like she was one of many and it was just a little texting.  No, it wasn’t.  It was her, and only her.  And you were telling her you loved her and you were telling other people you loved her and she made you happy and you were going to marry her. On top of that, you two were talking about sex and what all you were going to do to each other, and you were talking about a future together and she was sending you naked pictures.  It’s been 2 years since you tried to confess and pull the wool over my eyes at the same time.  It hasn’t been 2 years since I discovered the truth.  We’re at about 18 months for that.  18 months since I found out the extent of your lies and betrayal.  18 months since you told me you didn’t want to lose your kids.  18 months since you told me you hadn’t been happy in years.  18 months since you admitted that you two talked about sex, and how much you loved each other, and how much you wanted to be together.  18 months since you told me you two really really liked each other. 18 months since I received The Saint’s FB message asking me if I had gotten a good lawyer yet.  And we’re at 16 months since I discovered you bragging to your nephew about marrying her, after insisting to me that you two had no concrete plans.

So that’s part of the not able to move forward movement.  I don’t know.  I don’t know what their plans were.  I don’t know what all they talked about.  I don’t know how far into the planning it got. I don’t know that I was his first choice. I have no proof of that. Again, for all I know he called her up right after he got off the phone with me and told her I knew and I’d issued an ultimatum.  And then he told her she was his soul mate, his one true love, his very best friend, and the love of his life and there was no way he could give her up.  For all I know he told her, “I choose you, Harley!”  And Harley, being the manipulative, deceitful cunt that she is warned him that if I got wind of his choice that I’d probably run.  Maybe she even reminded him that I already had airplane tickets to fly to my home state in 2 days.  “If you want to keep your kids around, then you need to make sure she thinks you chose her.”  And then the good little whore proceeded to tell her husband she was leaving.  And her husband said, “Fine, but you’re not taking the kids.  They’re all disgusted with their whore of a mother.”  That’s when Harley finally realized she and my husband weren’t going to be forming their own version of the Brady Bunch, that there might be bumps in the way, and that the path to true love was not going to be a smooth one.  Maybe her kids gave her a ration of shit.  Maybe the two oldest told her they weren’t going to live with her.  It was at this point she decides it’s just not going to be worth it and that’s when she sends her bleeding heart text to Zack.

Is that really all that crazy?  Why is that version any less believable than the one he told me about?  At least in the second version I have her text ending it. It would be lovely if, instead, I had a text from him ending it.

What else did he do?  Well, he did in fact give me his passwords and take the code off his phone.  And to his credit he did recently offer to have my thumb print be one of the prints that could open his phone.

Marriage counseling?  He went but he didn’t really participate, and our counselor told us that is was pretty much a waste of time after 3 or 4 sessions. If we ever went again I think it would be interesting to hear his side of everything that happened.  It seemed to be mainly me talking because he didn’t much participate. I’ll give him credit for going when he didn’t want to, but I’m not giving him credit for anything else.  He didn’t participate and I don’t think we got much out of it. At this point in time I’m tired and I’m not willing to go again so I guess he’s safe.

And not discussing our marriage difficulties with Jezebel?  We both know that one went completely off the rails.  He performs a fucking Shakespearean soliloquy when he’s telling everyone all my faults and everything I’m doing to him, and I get a fucking one line reprieve when he pulls his head out of his ass.  I know that’s not a kind way to put it, but it pisses me off. And upon looking up how to spell soliloquy that’s not really the best description.  That’s what I perform on a daily basis when I’m raging!

That brings me to another point- the concept of the man in the middle. There is a poster on a board I like to read and she often says that many times you can look to the man in the middle as the source of conflict.  I’ve thought about that a lot and I believe it’s true, even with this.  He throws me under the bus to Jezebel, goes on and on and on about how horrible I am, and then says, “Oh, my bad!”  Is it any wonder she hates me?  He doesn’t tell her the good stuff.  He’s too busy getting his head patted when he’s the poor, oppressed little brother married to the evil, awful wife who uses him as a handyman and a paycheck. Man in the middle.  Have no doubt, I’m still not pleased with her encouraging him to leave me when he was fucking around.  And I’m definitely not pleased with her latest round. But he poured gasoline on the fire, and he did something I told him not to do ever again.

His mom and stepdad are another case in point.  I told him in therapy I didn’t like how Pastor Fake was gushing over Harley’s picture.  It was hurtful.  His attitude was, “I can’t control what he does.”  Then shortly thereafter his mom gets online and tells her she’s sooooooo pretty.  I unfriend them (they were sharing an account at the time) and probably blocked them at the time.  Undoubtedly unfriended them from my daughter as well, and blocked them.  I know she must have asked about it but instead of coming to me and saying, “Hey, what happened?  My mom says she’s blocked on both your and our daughter’s page,” he acts like he can’t control anything.  I keep thinking that if he had only pulled his mom aside in the beginning and said something along the lines of, “I know I created this mess, but if the two of you want to have a relationship with my wife and kids you’re going to have to distance yourself from my mistress.  It is upsetting to my wife to see the two of you acting all chummy with the woman I cheated on her with.  We both know we can’t control you and you can both do exactly as you want.  But I’m here to tell you that there is no way you can have Harley in your lives and have my wife and kids in your lives.  So you’re going to need to make a choice.”  Or even a much shorter, condensed version:  My wife can see you two gushing all over Harley, joking with her, telling her how pretty she is. You know that I cheated on her with Harley; therefore, she has no desire to associate with anyone that wants to be a part of Harley’s life.  It’s that plain and simple. You can have a relationship with my wife, or one with my mistress but you can’t do both. (Believe me, I tried! ba-dum!!!).

I think that’s part of not being able to move on, as well. I think I have made tremendous progress in accepting the fact that his parents will never turn their backs on Harley.  They will always be kind to her.  They will always compliment her.  She will always be around.  And I, in many ways, am forced to accept that. I’m forced to accept the fact that I will never be around for any family events because I don’t know if the whore will be there or not, and I don’t want to be there if she is.  I’m forced to accept (and I know this is morbid) that when his mom dies I’m going to be going through 3 levels of hell.  I’m going to have to deal with Zack and his grief, I’m going to have to deal with his bitch of a sister, and more than likely, his whore will show up. It’s very difficult to move on and forget about her when she is front and center all the time, or at least it feels like that.  She was praying for my husband last month.  Praying for him!  She has a front seat into the window of our lives.  Anything my in-laws post on FB about us, about my kids, that bitch can see. How do you move on from that? How do you move on from your in-laws thinking that your husband’s whore is a swell person?  I keep expecting her to show up at Thanksgiving and for them to offer up the use of their bedroom so he can fuck her.

I read about pain shopping yet again yesterday.  It’s not so much that I want to do that, it’s more I don’t want to be ambushed.  I guess when you don’t feel safe or confident you continue to look over your shoulder.  I don’t know that I was his first choice.  Hell, I don’t even know for certain that he’s not back in contact with her again.  I don’t know that someone won’t throw facts at me, facts of which I have been completely unaware of for over a year, which might result in my own downward spiral. I don’t look on her page that often.  I check every now and then to see if she’s got a new profile picture up.  I occasionally check my in-laws’ pages to see if she’s commenting or liking certain things.  Of course she is!  Good ol’ Harley can’t fade into the background. Oh no!  Look at me!  Look at me!

I know I’ve said it before and I will say it again.  Not knowing the bitch is being welcomed with open arms by all who know about her and Zack doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.  And closing my eyes and pretending like as long as I don’t see it everything is ok, is just living in a fairytale.  It does no one any good.  Eventually, you wake up and you discover the truth and you feel betrayed.  I’d just as soon get it out of the way.

I guess what it boils down to is can I accept what happened?  Sure.  I can accept it.  Doesn’t mean I like it.  Just like accepting who my in-laws are.  It hurts me very much knowing they can embrace the woman that almost tore my life apart.  But, I accept that that is who they are. When I am with them I enjoy being with them and I love them.  However, I will never have a close relationship with them again.  I simply cannot do that, not when they are still in contact with Harley and act like she has done nothing wrong. I will never be willing to go out of my way for them again. I don’t call.  I don’t confide.  I let Zack handle it. Honestly, I prefer to keep my distance because I’m afraid I’ll be sucked in if I get too close.

Can I accept the fact that I’ve been moved 2000 miles across the country to live in this Godforsaken town where I know almost no one?  Sure.  It’s reality.  I can pretend I don’t live here but what good would that do? I can pretend that we can go back to our former state but I know that we can’t.  Whose job is he going to take?  Especially when they just got a new GM and a new PM less than a year ago.  Where will we live?  Are we going to ask the new residents of our home to kindly move out because we’d like our house back?  No. If I’m being perfectly logical most newcomers to the area head over to two up and coming areas.  Our kids wouldn’t be going to school with their old friends; they’d be at a new school.  My daughter could go back to her old gym but she would be competing as a Level 8 once again, more than likely, and all of her former teammates would be 9s.  My son could play hockey again but he’s lost a year and he already started late so he’d be behind as well.  No, we are stuck here, at least for 7 years until they both have graduated from high school.  Then my husband can yank me away from my new life, and at the rate I’m going now that won’t be a bad thing. I’m so tired of hearing, “You need to get out there and meet people!  Volunteer! Take classes!”  Um, I’d love to meet people but that’s a little difficult when you’re 46 and not in school and don’t have a job. There are no classes to take. Quite honestly, I’m sick and tired of being the new person.  And volunteering?  Where would you suggest I volunteer?  The PTA?  They don’t seem to have many opportunities.  I’m supposed to go tonight for an after prom meeting where I will know no one and the woman in charge is going to ask me to solicit donations, which is something I absolutely hate to do. HATE IT! This gets me thinking that if everything PTA does needs to be funded with business donations I want no part in it. Oh, I also found out that I was sent an email to see if I wanted to volunteer at the book fair for the middle school.  It went to my junk mail and I didn’t get it until after the book fair was over. Lovely. I could go to a PTA meeting but again, I’m tired of putting myself out there.  I’m tired of being the new person.  I’m 46, for crying out loud!  My life should be settled.  I shouldn’t be scurrying around trying to find a whole new set of friends.

I tell myself to think back on all of our other moves.  OB was easy.  I had just turned 29 when we made the move. We went out with all of his co-workers.  And from that I became friends with some locals and they introduced us to other people. In the next state I started out by participating in an online group.  I got very lucky and those people met weekly.  I put myself out there and I joined their group. Gradually, other people joined in as well. Then, right before my daughter turned 2 I started going to church; when my son was an infant I volunteered to help in the nursery. A few months later I became a team leader in the nursery.  Gradually I did more. I became a small group leader.  I joined the meal team. I think when my son was around a year I joined MOPS.  I became part of the hospitality team with them.  I started a MOPS group at our church. I was there 6 years and it was gradual, but my calendar filled in.  Plus, it helped that I had family only 2 hours away. I think I found my online friends within the first 6-8 months. I was 31 when we moved back to State #2, just under 2 months before my 31st birthday. We moved a few months before I turned 38. In State #4 I think it began after I volunteered to join PTA.  It was about 5-6 months later.  The following year my daughter was competing so I made some friends that way. PTA just became a huge thing for me.  I met a ton of people that way.  And I met some people through my kids.  This time it just doesn’t seem as easy. I was 45 this time when I left. I’ve been here coming up on 8 months.  They have been the longest, loneliest 8 months of my life, I think. I don’t have online friends.  I don’t have a church. I don’t have PTA; it’s pretty much non-existent.  I certainly don’t have MOPS. My daughter competes alone most of the time. This next meet all of the girls meet together.  But here’s the thing:  most of the girls are young, like 10-11.  Their moms are young.  I don’t want to hang out with them.  I don’t need to be overrun with 30 somethings while I’m nearing death. I do have some parents I can sit with at the high school meets.  That’s nice.  But that’s it.  I know a few people on sight.  I’m still shocked when I run into someone I know at the grocery store because it happens so infrequently. I am grateful for the outpouring of support from the few people I do know when Zack was in the hospital.  Our neighbor called and offered to help with whatever we may need.  S offered to take my daughter to gymnastics.  C prayed for us and checked in on us, offering to run errands or bring a meal.  D took my daughter to gymnastics and grabbed food for both of my kids.  I felt very fortunate to have that help and those offers.

So, this is my reality.  I’m far from family.  I’m far from friends.  I’m not fitting in or finding a niche.  I really really hate it here.  I’ve booked tickets for me and Rock Star to go see the state gymnastics meet back in our former state at the end of the month.  I’m looking forward to that.  Can’t wait to be around friends again. Can’t wait to see all those cute little gymnasts that I get to cheer on for the first time this year.  I’ve missed this.

I’ll save Jezebel’s asinine comment about him deserving something better for later.

What Part of, “I’ve Forgiven Him!” Don’t You Understand?

February 2015

My MIL called me last night. She was checking up on my husband because she hadn’t been able to get ahold of him. She knew he had planned on going to church and was saying that she hoped he continued to go and that it helped, and that she had heard he was supposed to see a psychiatrist and she hoped that helped, too. Then she went on to say she hoped he got better and that we got back to where we needed to be. What? Um, we’re fine. She went on about how the past was the past and I needed to forgive him and she was sorry for anything she might have done to me and she hoped I would forgive her. Everyone makes mistakes. And she knows it’s difficult because she went through it with her own husband years ago.

There are so, so many things I want to address in all of this mess. I’m not sure I can focus enough to get it all out there. But first, I HAVE forgiven him. I moved 2000 fucking miles across the country and completely uprooted my children and their lives, along with my own, in support of him. I would call that forgiveness. If I wanted to dwell on what he had done I would have never moved. Because, once again, our current town will always be Whoreville to me. I’m here because of my husband and his whore and their sweet little plans to be closer together. No matter how much I may come to like it here (and that’s doubtful) it will always be tainted by the fact they plotted to move my family here so they could carry on their affair. It was all put into motion once she started promising blow jobs and anal sex. I’m still here, still living with him. If I was going to kick his ass out I would have done it when I first found out he was still lying to me and cheating on me. I’m not softening him up for the blow. And I don’t believe in staying with a cheater and then using that to throw in the cheater’s face for the rest of his or her life. If you’re going to stay, make peace with the situation. I know some people say you can rebuild without forgiving, so I won’t say forgive and move on. But, you definitely need to make your peace with it and I have made my peace with him. I even do my best to not think about why I’m living here, 2000 miles away from my friends, my support system, my social life, my volunteer activities, because if I were to dwell on it I would cry. Harley and Zack fucked my life up spectacularly. Once my loving husband set the wheels into motion they didn’t stop just because he supposedly stopped fucking around with his whore of a cousin. Nope, they were going to send him (us) here come Hell or high water. So, you wanna play the past is the past? Oh, you bet your sweet ass it is. I’ve buried that motherfucker deep because I would be overcome with rage if I didn’t.

As for being sorry for whatever it is she’s done to me… well, that’s nice, but since you don’t even realize what it is that you did I’m not sure it means that much to apologize for it. And once again, I’ve made my peace with it. They will never change. I love them but I can’t have a relationship with them like I used to. I have tried and tried to envision a way that I’m ok with loving them, hanging around with them, visiting them, supporting them, sharing holidays, vacations, memories with them, and all the time knowing they love and support her, my husband’s whore. I will never feel safe. I know the minute he decides to toss me aside and replace me they will welcome my replacement with open arms and I don’t know how to have a relationship with people like that. I wish I could live in the moment, not worry about the what ifs. But when you’ve already been confronted with that I think it’s more difficult to pretend like it won’t happen. Everything about it just feels false. Oh, you love me. Oh, now you don’t love me because my husband no longer wants to fuck me. It’s not me they want to have a relationship with. It is my title. Whoever assumes the title of his wife is the one they want to have a relationship with. At this point I don’t even feel comfortable attending family events because I always assume the whore has been invited as well. And that would not end well. If we are ever in the same space I am about 99% certain everyone in that space will know exactly what she and my husband did. I find the whole situation sad. I find it sad that I am undoubtedly cast as the bad guy even though I was the one that was cheated on, and Zack and Harley were the cheaters. I’m the bad guy even though Jezebel was the one who lied to me, encouraged my husband to leave me, and talked trash about me. That’s just the way it is with them. Then you add in the humiliation factor, wondering if everyone is talking about you, your husband’s affair, how you compare to the sainted whore, how sad it is that you got cheated on and what on earth you did to “deserve” it. It’s an all around yucky feeling.

They are planning on coming to visit over Spring Break and I’m now waiting for her to come at me over Jezebel. The past is in the past. Everyone makes mistakes. Again, I’m trying to envision a way I’m ok with anything beyond superficial niceties and I’m once again coming up blank. How do you reconcile the fact that the person you are spending holidays with, confiding in, and creating memories with, will turn on you the minute her brother decides he wants to fuck someone else? Maybe it’s easier for her because she’s spent her whole life using people for what they can give her. So, she takes everything her in-laws can do for her and laps it up and when she moves on to the next husband it’s no big loss because now she has a new set of in-laws that can do new things for her. Or, to put it another way: It’s not about the relationship she shares with these people. It’s what all that relationship gives her. It would be like having a SIL that takes you on lavish vacations and shopping sprees. You like the person ok, but when the relationship ends you miss everything your SIL did for you a lot more than you miss the actual person. I even try to envision spending time with her on a superficial level. I say hello, how are you. When asked how I am I say, “Fine.” It doesn’t go beyond that. How are things in Whoreville? Fine. How are the kids adjusting? Fine. Just keeping everything superficial. Not excited about anything. I try to imagine having to go to her new house and be polite. Meet new people that I will only see every 3-5 years. I honestly believe I would hate it. I would feel like I was crawling out of my skin. Having to feign interest in everything she has and has done. You can’t be too noncommittal because then you’re considered rude and once again, you’re the bad guy. But treating her like someone I actually care about and have an interest in? I’m a good actress but I’m not that good. Besides, I don’t care if everyone knows the relationship has changed. Trying to imagine sitting outside at her fire pit. I suppose I would listen as everyone talked and not join in. Nothing to say. I would play the part of the uninvolved observer. Quietly listening and observing, not interjecting my own thoughts because I don’t wish to give anyone a glimpse of me. See? All of that seems so terribly complicated. So much easier to just stay away. There is no relationship so why create an artificial one? For her? Why? I don’t give a fuck about what she wants. She didn’t care about me and what I might have wanted. I’d like to return the favor.

Wow- ok, I think I did get most of it out. I can’t think of anything else really. I just keep trying to imagine these re-structured relationships and I have an incredibly hard time wrapping my head around it. It’s so much easier to avoid it.

A Conversation With Tammy Faye


November 2014

I finally answered the phone when my mother-in-law called on the 26th. I figured it was almost Thanksgiving so why not? It was a pleasant conversation, lasted about 45 minutes. She told me she loved me and she wanted to see us. Loves me so much she continues to pal around with my husband’s whore. No thank you. In hindsight I think she reached out and tried calling again because I texted on the 24th to see if Zack’s niece still needed something on her registry. I am a little surprised she decided to try again since her reply was basically: No, she doesn’t have that yet. Thanks. The end. No more. I figured she had finally given up on me.

Then she butt dialed me. That was interesting. I missed the first part of her conversation with my father-in-law but I heard something about “you can’t change that” or something about it being in the past. She told him she was so glad I finally answered because she had called so many times before and I wouldn’t answer. I heard her tell him I don’t like it here. It switched over to talk of us coming by at Christmas. I think they believe I’m the reason he’s not been home. She was saying he had told me it was what he wanted to do. Yeah, he directs everything. No, I don’t care if he goes to see you. He’s choosing not to. He’s not able to. Has nothing to do with me.

She called on Thanksgiving and I didn’t answer but I also honestly didn’t hear the phone ring. I think I had it on vibrate.

She thinks I’m buddy buddy with his other sister and that’s how she knew where Zack was this summer. Um… No. I had nothing to do with that. Don’t know how she found him but it had nothing to do with me.

So, now I’m in a quandary. I still have no desire to be around whore lovers but I think she believes we have established contact and it will be ongoing. I also don’t want to play games whereby I take her calls one day and ignore them the next. I’m going to have to think about this for a bit.

Present Day Sam Says: She loved me so much she kept in contact with the whore. She loved me so much and wanted our relationship to go back to the way it was so she called up the whore and encouraged her to call my husband. She loved me so much she actively tried to destroy my marriage and replace me with the whore. Hell, there was no trying to it. She did it.

I can’t even begin to fathom calling a former paramour of my son or daughter. First, I would be beyond horrified that they had such piss poor judgement and that I had obviously not a very good job of raising them. But secondly, I could never see myself taking it upon myself to encourage yet another affair with the hopes that my child would leave his or her spouse. That takes some amazing lady balls.

Once again I’m amazed by their moral code. Don’t say “fuck”. Go to church every Sunday. Watch TV evangelists. Pray before meals. Set your son up with his affair partner. Sanctify an adulterous relationship. Stab your daughter-in-law in the back. Be a two-faced bitch.

He Makes Me Sick

I was all set to write about interrogatories and taxes on Monday. That day has come and gone. Interrogatories suck! It has been a test of patience to not just let loose with every nasty thought that plagues my mind.

Fast forward to today. I’m sending some more documentation to my lawyer’s assistant. I had found the message from The Saint where he stated that Cousinfucker was paying for their divorce. I decide I may as well send along the lovely pictures they’ve been plastering on Facebook. You know, pictures of the two of them posing together happily, despite his grueling battle with PTSD which rendered him unable to work. Pictures of him and her youngest child posing for Show and Tell, an activity in which he never indulged his actual children. What do I come across?

Oh yes! It’s the profile picture of the two of them which I had seen before. This time though I read the comments. Harley tells people to keep in mind that they had just been at her daughter’s cheer competition. People make comments about the t-shirt he’s wearing because it appears he is wearing a t-shirt in support of his favorite team’s arch rival. No, no, no! It’s her daughter’s school mascot. It was sooooo painful to put that shirt on but he wanted to support his “step-daughter”. The whore chimes in, “You know he must really love her to put that shirt on!”

You two are so adorable! Do I even need to point out that that cousin fucking piece of shit never once attended a single cheer competition for his own daughter?

Hey! Maybe that’s the reason his kids have nothing to do with him. He was a piss poor excuse of a father and now he’s strutting around like Daddy of the Year for four kids that have a father. An involved father at that. Nah, I’m sure it’s because I have poisoned their minds. As he’s whining to Rock Star that he hopes she will talk to him once again he forgets that actions speak louder than words. His words say his children are very important to him. His actions say, “You kids don’t mean shit to me. I couldn’t be bothered to go to your competitions or participate in your lives. Now excuse me while I show up at my ‘step-daughter’s’ competitions and take my fake son to show and tell. I love them and need to support them.”  Wouldn’t surprise me to find out he’s coaching one of their teams as well.

Even better are all the comments about how happy they look! Oh, and Jezebel loves them both! Someone told her she deserved to finally be happy.

Really? She’s just entitled to take whatever the hell she wants? Because it makes her happy? Fuck the two families they destroyed! Fuck the betrayed husband who has to watch as his whore of an ex and her mentally unstable lover/cousin play house with his kids! Fuck the betrayed wife who has lost her home, who moved her kids once again, who has lost everything, who works two jobs just trying to feed her kids. They are happy and that trumps everything! You don’t even want to know what would make me happy and I’m 100% sure none of her friends and relatives would tell me I was entitled to make myself happy at her expense.

Then again that seems to be the common refrain. As long as the two cheating lovebirds are happy then all is well. No one wants to look around and see the damage caused by the cheating and the lies. Being unhappy is a perfect justification for being a cheating asshole. Who can say it’s wrong when they’re so happy? Life is short! Too short to do the right thing apparently. I hope they all burn in hell.

Chump Lady is so correct when she says no contact is the only way to go. Having to dredge all this crap up in order to prove what an absolute asshole he is only makes my blood boil. I already know he’s an asshole! Why do I have to prove it to everybody else?

Another Cheater Kills His Wife For His Whore

Oh good Lord! This one has it all. Christians, murders, delusional and enabling parents, best friend turned whore, Joyce Meyer. Everything!

Meet Chris Coleman. On second thought, don’t meet him. He’s sitting in prison in Illinois because he killed his wife and two sons in order to start all over with his wife’s high school best friend. Yeah, with friends like that who needs enemies, right? Cherry on top of that shit sundae? His wife, Sheri, introduced the two of them. I’m sure she trusted her high school best friend, that it never occurred to her to worry that she (Tara) would turn around and fuck her husband.

Why kill her? Why not simply divorce her and start all over with the dream whore? Here’s where it gets interesting. Good ol’ Chris was Joyce Meyer’s bodyguard. Yes, that Joyce Meyer, the televangelist and author. He was making six figures and all that traveling allowed him to take the whore to Hawaii and Arizona. He didn’t think he would be allowed to keep his job if anyone knew he divorced his wife for his affair partner.

So the genius begins to send threatening emails to himself. The emails demand he resign as Joyce’s bodyguard or his family will be punished for his sins. In what I am sure is a complete coincidence these threatening emails begin right when his affair with good ol’ Tara begins. Hmmm…..  Then he begins putting letters into the family mailbox. It ultimately ends with the murder of his wife and his two children. He killed his kids for this whore. Eleven and nine years old. Strangled them in their beds.

I would say that I wonder how Tara sleeps at night but the truth of the matter is she probably doesn’t give it a second thought. Hey, it’s not her fault. She didn’t break any vows. She didn’t ask him to slaughter his family; she only asked him to divorce his wife for her. I’m sure she’s not mourning the loss of her high school best friend. She was fucking her husband so I can’t imagine she’s all that broken up about her death. But not to worry. The cheating whore found Jesus after the murders so everything is right with the world.

His parents blame everyone except their murderous son. Talk about enabling and delusional. That accurately describes these two nincompoops. Both parents are “devout Christians”; his father is a pastor. According to them his deceased wife was “worldly” with her short shorts and a tattoo on her leg. They got married quickly and the parents later found out it was because Sheri was pregnant. Chris did an assessment for work and he listed his weaknesses as being moody, withdrawn, and unaffectionate. This was an assessment he filled out. His parents completely disagree with it. “Oh, that’s all Sheri telling him those things.” Yes, blame the dead woman. It couldn’t possibly be your precious son. Chris and Tara had promise rings they wore when they were together. Tara wore hers to court when she was called to testify. His parents couldn’t believe she wore it and are convinced she was the one that bought them completely against their son’s wishes. His father thinks perhaps a mercenary killed his grandsons, hired by an enemy of Joyce’s. In court there were pictures of their son with his mistress. Text messages read. Pictures described because they were explicit- naked pictures of him, naked pictures of her. A video of their son masturbating for Tara, telling her how wonderful she was and how he wouldn’t do this for just anybody. But the thing that made them leave the courtroom? The video of their son’s interrogation. That they couldn’t handle. Pictures of their dead grandsons, graffiti spray painted on the sheet covering one of them didn’t seem to phase them, but their son being grilled for their murders was too much.

These so-called Christian parents remind me so much of Pastor Fake and Tammy Faye. They don’t care what happens to their grandchildren so long as Cousinfucker is happy. Nothing is ever his fault; I’m sure it’s all mine.

I suppose I should be thankful that Cousinfucker hasn’t killed me and the kids yet. Then again, he walked out the door without a second glance back so in his mind we simply don’t exist.

Anyway, Chris Coleman, you’re a despicable shell of a human being. And Tara Lintz, you are no better. He slaughtered his family for you. Was it worth it?

More Victim Morphing From a Pro

Blast From the Past 57

July 2014

Ok, this is getting old. He continues to say he can’t have a relationship with his family because I don’t like them. He doesn’t want to drive a wedge between us. I’ve told him I don’t care if he has a relationship with them. I expect him to. But dammit, I am not going to be guilted into reconciling with any of them. And for the record it has nothing to do with liking them or not. They sided with the whore. They knew he cheated on me with her and they chose to continue a relationship with her. I have no use for them because they have no respect for me. Ultimately, if he chooses to have no relationship with them that’s on him. I am not preventing it. I am not discouraging it. I am encouraging it. I’ve done all I can do.

Present Day Sam Says: I’m not sure if running with this whole, “I can’t have a relationship with them if you don’t have one, too,” would have helped or not. My best guess is that if I had went along with him not having a relationship with his family he would have sought them out later on anyway. It was just his way of trying to guilt me into doing what he wanted me to do.

I could get all philosophical and say that the moment when I stopped playing along and instead held my ground is when he finally realized he couldn’t manipulate me into doing what he wanted so he needed to replace me. It doesn’t matter. I know I’ve said that before but really, it doesn’t matter. He made his choices. I don’t think there’s anything I could have done that would have affected the outcome of this.

I do know that him continuing to have a relationship with his family while I did not was definitely not good for us as a couple. I doubt they would have had any loyalty to me regardless (look at how they rallied around Harley the first time around) but it was certainly easier to manipulate an us against her campaign this way.

Welcome to the Jungle, Part 4

Note:  This is Part 4 of a five part story.  Click on the link for Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.  And as always if any of these stories are not true blame the lying liars who lie.  I’m just repeating what I’ve been told, although some of them are recited from personal experience.

Next up we have my STBX-MIL.  I’ve debated what to call her.  Dumb bitch just seems crass.  Judas would be appropriate.  Afterall, she sat in my kitchen last spring and told me how much she loved me and valued me and our relationship; she really wanted to get our relationship back on track because I had been her daughter-in-law for 20 years!  I’d been around longer than any of the other spouses.  All the while she’s saying that crap she has either already contacted Harley, urging her to get in contact with my husband, or she left my house and urged her soon after to call him.  You know, because he’s sad.  After the first affair with her.  Alas, Judas was a male and my Judas is female so I’m going to keep the religious angle and go with Tammy Faye Bakker.

Oh where to begin?  I suppose we could start with all of her misdeeds first.  Warm you up to the insanity before plunging you directly into it.  First, she almost cost us our 2nd house.  When we moved the first time we rented.  After we bought a house and sold it less than a year later we didn’t want to make that mistake again.  Our landlord ran a credit check on us and told us we had a credit card that had been rescinded. Turns out Cousinfucker gave his mother a credit card in his name when he got out of college.  She used it for around 5 years before getting into trouble with it and not being able to pay the bill.  She never bothered to tell him.  I don’t know whether she was trying to fix it on her own or if she simply thought he’d never find out.  I do know she claimed she gave the card back voluntarily and then after a period of time the credit card company turned the matter over to a collections agency.  Upon first hearing about it he told her to take care of it; she promised she would.  On Christmas Eve that year he got a phone call from a collection agency threatening to take him to court if he didn’t pay the balance.  That made for a fun holiday because you all should know by now how well he deals with stress.  Add that on top of the fact it’s a holiday *and* he has to go socialize with my family… It was lovely.  Four months later we’re moving and trying to buy a house.  When they do the credit check they find this delinquent credit card that has been turned over to collections and she keeps forfeiting whatever deal they make for payments.  He was livid.  I ended up getting a cash advance on an unused credit card we had and paying the damn thing off.  She promised to repay us but I think she ended up making about 3 payments before that nonsense was forgotten.

In another wise financial decision she decided to quit her job at the state, cash in her retirement and go into business with her brother-in-law.  That’s risky enough when you’re in your 40s.  It’s especially risky when you have had numerous health problems and you end up spending more time in the hospital than the attending doctors; seriously, the woman was in the hospital at least once a year, if not more.   Add on the fact your brother-in-law is a known embezzler and it’s flat out stupid.  People warned her repeatedly not to do it but she would not be swayed.  She didn’t like her boss and she wanted OUT.  She handed all of her money over to him and he spent it. On himself and his family.  Then he turned around and told her all the money was gone and she needed to get another job because that’s what he was doing.  They never recovered from that.   In the months leading up to our wedding she lavished us with cash and gifts.  After the wedding we were the ones helping them out- loans that were never paid back (including the credit card she ran up and then couldn’t pay), care packages, rent paid, car payments, groceries… It’s not like they were a line item in our budget but we did help out whenever we could.  They never paid for an airline ticket to come visit us and they rarely paid for a meal- Zack made sure of that.  We would go visit them and we still always paid.  Again, not a huge deal because we had it and I don’t have a problem with helping out family.  In an ironic twist, the boss that she left her job over, retired or transferred within a year or two.

The best part though is Pastor Fake became a pastor for a small church several hours away from where they had always lived.  They moved into a trailer on someone’s land and as always Tammy Faye was very excited about this new life.  Her landlord’s wife was going to teach her how to can and she was going to have a garden.  Eventually the embezzling brother-in-law who has cost them everything comes back with his family, having been run out of town and run out of money.  He and his family move in with them in this trailer they are renting.  Tammy Faye and Pastor Fake ended up getting kicked out because of letting another family live with them.

Similarly, when they moved back to their “hometown” Pastor Fake eventually became the pastor of Tammy Faye’s family church.  This came with a house adjoining the church.  Things worked out fine until once again they decided to let his sister, having finally divorced the embezzling husband, and her kids move in with them.  He eventually lost the church but before that I think they were required to start paying their own utilities.

In another act of stupidity she ended up getting fired from yet another job at the state, procured for her by a family friend, when she decided to take off from work to sit by her father’s bedside when he had surgery.  Now, first of all, Tammy Faye had already missed MANY days of work due to illness.  She even had co-workers giving her *their* sick days and vacation days so that she could still get paid.  Secondly, this father was her biological “sperm donor” for lack of better word.  She was adopted as a toddler after her mother died (this is covered in Part 5).  Suffice to say, this “man” never stuck around for any of his kids.  Yet when she’s faced with the choice of going to work and keeping her job, or sitting in a hospital waiting room all day while she waits for the results of her sperm donor’s surgery, she chooses to get fired.  She simply HAD to be there!

There are many stories of poor decisions just like this- the time she paid out over $100 for a life size Barbie doll for a grandchild instead of paying the electric bill, which resulted in them almost having their electricity turned off.  Why would she make such a stupid decision?  Well, because “God would provide”, of course!  Come to think of it, we bought the damn doll for her because they were sold out in her area and she sent us a check to cover the purchase.  The check bounced, of course.  So we ultimately bought the doll.  And I think, although I’m not positive, that someone else gave them the money for the electric bill.  I guess God did provide.  He provided people who provided for them.  Then there was the time Pastor Fake bought tires for someone when they could barely scrape together enough money to buy groceries.  And the time my mother loaned her $1000 to help her out with her car payment since they were behind.  The car ended up repossessed anyway and she only paid my mom around $150 of the money back.  I’m sure there are more but there have been so many over the years I can’t keep up with all of them.

Tammy Faye is another one who loves to live life through Facebook.  Every time my daughter posts a picture Tammy Faye is there gushing about how beautiful she is and “that’s my blood” and “I love you so much!”.  Yes, she loves her grandkids so much she saw them one time after we moved closer.  For years they claimed her various illnesses prevented her from traveling and yet she was able to travel 5 hours for a plate of what was supposed to be the best BBQ.  I’ve heard of them traveling hours for watermelon and bacon.  Now, perhaps Pastor Fake is going alone, or going with his current brother-in-law and she’s not part of this.  That could be.  I just always find it amazing how they can manage to take trips to see other people but could never travel to see us.  Even when I would drive over 20 hours to visit my family they couldn’t be bothered to meet me halfway between our towns which would have been a 2 1/2 hour drive for them.  Nope, I had to drive the full 5 1/2 hours down to their house because she just couldn’t travel. And Cousinfucker *demanded* that I take the kids down to see her.  His mantra for the last five-ten years has been, “I don’t think she’ s going to be live another year.”  So how could I deny a dying woman a last chance to see her beloved grandchildren?

Her grandchildren are so dear to her that one year when she came back home with us unexpectedly she said to me, “Well, now I don’t have to come out later on in the summer.”  We had arranged to fly her out to see the kids (kid?  I don’t remember if we had one or two at the time.).  I remember telling her, “The idea was for you to be able to see them more.  This visit will allow you to see them twice this summer.  It’s in addition to, not instead of.”  Make no mistake- this was not a woman who had better things to do than be bothered with her children’s offspring.  She helped out with Jezebel’s kids quite often.  She still does, to this day.  Unfortunately, seeing our kids meant traveling so they didn’t see them often.  In the last ten or so years it rarely happened unless we came to them.

For Christmas this year they gave my son a basketball.  A deflated basketball.  My son has never been into basketball.  He loves hockey.  He loves Legos and Star Wars.  He is an avid artist and video game player.  But a basketball player?  No.  He looked at me and said, “It’s like they don’t even know me!”  Son, I hate to break this to you but they don’t know you.  That might take time and effort.

She didn’t bother to come visit her son when he was in the psych ward either.  She called.  She didn’t come after he was released either.  Now, he would tell you that he told her not to come because she was getting sick and he was worried about her.  But I don’t care if I were on my death bed.  If my child was going into an inpatient facility I’m going to be there!  And if I think his horrible, evil wife is at the root of it I’m definitely going to be there!  But not them.  Nope.  Too much trouble.

My mother is still appalled at the time Tammy Faye went into rehab only days after I had arranged a surprise visit for her with the grandkids.  Yep, I drove both kids (ages 2 and 4, maybe?) the 7 1/2 hours down there.  Surprised her (with the full knowledge of Pastor Fake).  Two or three days later she goes into rehab for addiction to painkillers.  She had been addicted for years and yet she chooses this moment in time to get clean.  Now, it is possible that she couldn’t get her hands on anymore and therefore had no choice but to get off of them.  She and her various family members would frequently “share” medications.  Another lovely moment in this flying monkey circus.  I will say she is clean and has been ever since that happened, and the Lord has apparently performed a medical miracle because she is no longer on oxygen like she has been for the past ten years or so.

I think the best story about her is a tie between using her son’s bank account as an ATM or treating his paternity as a family joke.  I’ll let you decide.

Cousinfucker served in the first Gulf War.  While he was away he put his mother in charge of his bills so she had access to his account.  She and Jezebel both used his bank account as a freaking ATM while he was off fighting a war.  He came home thinking he would have thousands in his account and instead it was almost empty.  She swears she paid him back but I find that hard to believe.  And there is still a huge difference between being given a lump sum of $20,000 or something close to that, and being given small amounts of money over months, if not years.  Ironically, he tells me he gave his sister a large amount of money before he even left to help her pay off bills and leave her and her husband debt free.  Still wasn’t enough.  But I’m the one that spends all his money and wastes it.

The other contender for top fucked up story is how she treated his paternity.  To her credit she was not married and fooling around on her husband.  She was, however, seeing and sleeping with two men at the same time.  Two men who knew each other.  She got pregnant, named one of them as the father and married him.  They were married/divorced/married/divorced for around 11 years, I believe.  She always maintained she wasn’t certain she had named the correct man but he was a family man and the other guy was more of a player so she went with the “safer” choice.  Typing that out I’m not sure if this guy was married or not when he got her pregnant.  There is a substantial age difference between Cousinfucker and his dad’s next youngest child but that doesn’t mean anything.  Over the years family members would joke about this (on her side, of course).  Several of them would claim that CF looked just like the other guy.  It was not a secret.  It couldn’t have been any more out in the open if they had tried.  Then finally a few years after his dad died she supposedly told him that the other guy was his father and that she had known all along.  Why on earth she would wait 40 plus years to tell him this is beyond me.  I personally don’t think it’s true.  He shares way too many freak medical traits with the family he was raised in.  And of course he won’t get a DNA test done.  That might eliminate drama and Cousinfucker is nothing if not a drama queen.

I didn’t spend a lot of time with Zack’s father so we weren’t close.  But the things I heard about him were not great.  For starters, this “family man” she had chosen as her baby’s father was living with another woman at the time of his birth.  He denied him as his own in the beginning and supposedly, he called Zack up when he was in 6th grade and told him that he was not his father and Zack was no longer his son.  He also, if Tammy Faye is telling the truth, threatened to burn down their house if she tried to take it in the divorce.

The bizarre part is that Tammy Faye can be quite charming and likable.  Most people, in fact, DO like her.  I think it’s because most people don’t know about the incredible dysfunction that seems to follow her around.  You know who really likes her, though?  Harley.  Harley has gushed that she and Pastor Fake are two of her most favorite people.  Then again, Harley is a whore and we don’t value her opinion.