Two Weddings & a Funeral

I took a last minute trip to Virginia the week before Christmas. My great uncle died.

He was the last of nine siblings. At our last family reunion, which occurred 3-4 weeks after I found out my husband was cheating on me, there were two left. My Uncle Donnie and my Uncle Gene. Uncle Donnie was actually the youngest of the nine. He died a year later on Christmas Day.

I loved my Uncle Gene. He always told the best stories. He was an amazing storyteller. He spent over 30 years as a state trooper so he had a lot of stories. I hadn’t seen him since 2016, a few days before I moved back to Indiana. I went mainly to be a support for my mom. Originally I hadn’t planned on going at all. I didn’t really have the time to take off. But this was going to be difficult for my mom so I went. She drove and I flew. It turned out they planned the visitation on Tuesday and the funeral on Wednesday. I couldn’t take that much time but there was a flight that left here at 6 in the morning and would get to Virginia by 10:30 so I could make it in time for the graveside service.

Why am I telling you all of this? I will tell you why. The first thing out of the mobster’s mouth upon hearing that he had died and we would be attending the funeral was, “I want to be there for you; I want to support you and your mom.” He rearranged his route and put things off all so he could accompany me to this funeral.

To most of you that might not seem like anything out of the ordinary. To me, it was extraordinary.

During the twenty years I was married to Jerry Lee I lost both of my grandmothers and my sole surviving grandfather.

In 1999, almost five years after we got married, Jerry Lee accompanied me from Mississippi up to Indiana for my grandpa’s funeral only after my mother threw an absolute fit upon hearing that he might not come with me.

“What do you mean, ‘He might not be able to come?’ That’s your grandfather and he’s your husband. He should be by your side.”

Yes, you read that correctly. He wasn’t sure he could take that much time off of work. Ironically, my grandfather’s visitation was on a Saturday (could have been Friday and Saturday) and his funeral was on a Sunday. I remember because my dad and aunt talked about how my grandma paid more to have it on Father’s Day instead of waiting until Monday. So Jerry Lee wasn’t missing much work. Three to four days at the most.

The funny thing is this was my dad’s father, not my mom’s.  Yet, she was still incensed at the idea that Jerry Lee would allow me to travel 8-10 hours on my own and attend my grandfather’s funeral by myself.

So, he acquiesced and made the trip with me. Had my mom not thrown that fit, which in turn made me lean harder on him, he would not have gone with me. I have absolutely no doubt that if I hadn’t pushed he wouldn’t have gone. The sad fact is I’d come to expect that from him already at only five years into the marriage. It didn’t seem that unnatural for him to choose not to come with me.

My Mamaw died in 2007 when we were living out in Utah. I made the 30+ hour drive by myself. Well, with my two young children I should say. They were 7 and almost 5 at the time. Not big helps when it came to driving by any means.

I got the news on a Saturday that she had taken a turn for the worse and they didn’t expect her to live much longer. Father’s Day was that Sunday and so as to not ruin Father’s Day for him and take his kids away from him on “his” day I waited until later in the day on Sunday, probably around 5 or 6, before I finally left. I remember driving until around midnight and stopping at a hotel in Nebraska. Picasso had no interest in sleeping for some reason so I locked the door, put the chain on it and went to sleep, letting him stay up as long as he desired. I was woken up by a small boy straddling me and staring down at my face. When I reluctantly opened my eyes he greeted me with the chipper greeting, “Wake-y, wake-y!” It was five or six in the morning.

I got back on the road and discovered a few hours later that the air conditioning that had just been fixed was once again broken. The mechanic had warned me the belt might break. I forget why now. As luck would have it my father-in-law worked at the automotive center at Wal-Mart and if we could get to Kentucky and buy a belt he had a co-worker that could put it on for us. We drove from Nebraska to Kentucky with no air. I started driving at six in the morning and didn’t arrive at my in-law’s place until just after midnight. I was exhausted.

The belt was bought and replaced. I drove the remaining four to six hours and finally we got there. My Mamaw was still alive. She held on for four days, I think, if not more, before she finally let go.

He was not there with me. He didn’t even have his company send flowers. I made a 30+ hour drive to watch my beloved Mamaw die and he couldn’t be bothered to be with me. He had to work. We’d been married over ten years at that point.

Four years later my sole remaining grandparent died. We were still in Utah. Again, he couldn’t bother coming with me. He didn’t have the time to spare. So once again I grabbed the kids, put them in the minivan, and made the drive. This time the drive was only about 24 hours so I got a bit of a break. But once again I was alone while burying a loved one.

In contrast, when his father died in 2010 I got the kids excused from school, got their homework, boarded our two dogs at two different places, finished up the laundry, cleaned the house, put both kids in the minivan and drove all night long to get to him so he wouldn’t have to go to the family visitation or the funeral without me. I pulled over around 8 in the morning at a rest area to sleep for a bit. I left the van running, the air on, a SpongeBob video in the DVD player, and locked the doors while I took a nap so I didn’t run off the road and kill us all.

Twenty years and he went to one out of three of my grandparent’s funerals with me. Hell, he didn’t go with me to his step grandfather’s funeral. My mom accompanied me and a year old Rock Star. That funeral took place only a few days before 9/11. I remember driving home that day, wondering if we were going to be safe or if there might be another attack. I actually asked him if he thought it would be safe if we drove back or if we should stay there. Naturally he didn’t think there was any danger. Aside from one gas station with some high gas prices he was correct, I suppose.

The mobster has been with me for less than three years and he volunteered to go to a funeral with me. He brought it up before I ever had a chance to. His attitude was, “Of course I will be going with you!”

It wasn’t just that he was willing to go to this funeral with me either. There were many family members there that he had never met. Jerry Lee had never met them because he never went to Virginia with me. Yet here was the mobster. I was taking him by Mamaw’s house, sharing memories with him. He met my uncle (my mom’s brother). He met many of my cousins. He chatted with them. The restaurant was filled with family and the mobster didn’t bat an eye. He was amazing.

He kept asking me if Jerry Lee had been there or if I had shown him these things I was showing him. I had to keep reminding him that in 20 years of marriage Jerry Lee had never been to my Mamaw’s town with me. He’d never been to her house. He had never met any of my Virginia relatives aside from my Mamaw. He had no clue.

He was supposed to go to the cemetery with me that summer (2015) so we could plant flags on the veterans’ graves. That was something we had just started doing on Memorial Day. Most of my uncles served and my favorite cousin’s son was KIA 4 days after arriving in Iraq back in 2012. That year we would have been honoring my family. Of course, Jerry Lee was knee deep in his affair with Harley so he couldn’t come out of his room and be with us. I once again went by myself. Or rather, the kids and I went by ourselves.

That was all a foreign concept to the mobster. He kept saying he couldn’t understand that. Yeah, well, in hindsight, me neither. Probably should have been a giant red flag.

The mobster has been a godsend. My cousin adored him. Everyone I’ve ever introduced him to has come away with that feeling. They all tell me they really like him (and believe me- I’ve let them all know I’m vetting the shit out of him!). They comment on how easy he is to talk to. He really is. He’s one of those guys that never meets a stranger. He can always find something to talk about. And it’s not in that fake, schmoozy way either. He has a genuine interest in people and can always manage to find a topic to talk about. You never get the feeling that he’s making small talk to kill time or because that’s what he’s supposed to do; he’s trying to find a real connection with the person he’s speaking to.

It’s been two and a half years for the mobster and I. In that time he’s been to two weddings and a funeral with me. Jerry Lee has him beat on the weddings so far. We went to six together, I believe. Then again, he had 20 years and most of the time he was more of a pain in the ass than as asset.

These few short years with the mobster have shown me how a relationship is supposed to work. At least for me. Maybe other people enjoy doing everything on their own. I did it because that was the hand I was dealt. I did it because that’s what I saw in my parent’s marriage for the most part. I did it because I didn’t think it was all that unnatural. I did it because “I didn’t need anybody holding my hand”. Well you know what I’ve discovered? Having someone hold your hand is pretty nice.

I’m rambling now. The point is the mobster is once again showing me everything I missed out on in my twenty years of marriage. He shows up. He wants to be there for me. He is amazing and I am the luckiest woman in the world.

Winning Vs. Losing, Or What I Learned From Michelle Kwan

The fabulous Dolly over on The Queen Is In wrote a provocative post last week. She mentioned someone on Twitter who questioned whether or not she stayed because she couldn’t stand to see the OW win. Dolly admitted she, too, wondered if part of why she stayed was because she didn’t want to see the OW win. Several other people commented that they didn’t want to see the OW in their situations win either. I couldn’t really chime in because as you must know if you read my blog, in my situation the OW did win. She got my husband. They are married now. I was effectively cast out and replaced.

Plus, as I kept thinking up a response it kept getting longer and longer so I decided to do what I do best and turn it into a post.

I can understand not wanting to lose your spouse to another person. I felt that way the first time I discovered what was going on. White hot rage that he had been playing me for a fool all summer long while he sweet talked that bitch. She knew I existed. She knew my kids existed. She didn’t give a shit. She wanted what was mine.

I wanted her gone! I wanted to win. I wanted her broken and destroyed. I wanted her to know that he loved me and he would never leave no matter what plans they may have had; I wanted to show her that all I had to do was snap my fingers and tell him I wanted us to work out and she would be gone without a second thought. I wanted her to know I was better than her and that she wouldn’t win.

I demanded he end things with her. I wanted to see it in black and white. His story was that he called her instead and ended things. He said she cried when he told her he could never leave me. I loved that. I felt great satisfaction in hearing she cried, that she felt discarded. She had been messing around with my husband for more than three months at that point and I wanted to banish her from our lives forever. I wanted her to know how insignificant she was to him.

I told him I had contacted her husband and when he told me to leave them alone and let them concentrate on repairing their marriage while we did the same I hissed at him, “Do not beg for mercy for your whore!” He backed off. I felt powerful. In control. Victorious.

So I definitely get it. I did not want her to win. And yet, I remember when our anniversary rolled around and the reality of everything hit me. I was “celebrating” my anniversary with a man who cheated on me.

About two months later I followed it up with this jewel:

One day I was talking to a dear friend who is wise beyond measure. I referred to the whore as a homewrecker. She pointed out to me that she wasn’t a homewrecker; my family was intact and I had won. I had to think about that. I don’t always feel like I’ve won. It sucks knowing your husband was declaring his love for someone else, someone he considered his soul mate. How do you feel like you’ve won when the prize is a lying, cheating sonofabitch? I’m being melodramatic here. I don’t feel that way now. I’m actually pretty pleased with my life right now. But still it’s that phrasing. Kinda like our marriage is better than ever. You know how I hate that one! I don’t think there are any winners or losers in the aftermath of an affair. Sure, he’s with me. He picked me. He’s a lot nicer. A lot more attentive. But he still lied and cheated. And that’s not a great prize to win.

Much like Katniss who won The Hunger Games only to find herself having to fight for her life once again in an ultimate showdown, I found myself in round two of fighting for my marriage a short two years later; sadly, I didn’t realize there was a round two until it was too late.

So this time I lost and she won. But did she really? What did she win?

She won a man who cheats. She won a man who, when times get tough, seeks out others instead of turning to his partner. She won a man who abandoned his children. Maybe she sees that as the ultimate sacrifice and a sign of how incredibly special she is. Most people see it as an act of cowardice. She won a man who can never be happy. She won a man who, according to his court testimony, can’t drive, can’t be around loud noises, and can’t be in public places with big crowds. She won an alcoholic. She won a man who is always the smartest guy in the room and who demands all the attention and adulation. She won a man she can never rely on when things are tough because for him every small problem is a giant problem; she’ll have to be the strong one all the time because he can’t handle it. She won a man who can’t take criticism and who will demand she is happy and appreciative all the time.

My mother likes to remind me that people can be different with different people. She has tales of her own with my father. As a child growing up I remember him spending a lot of time helping my grandpa out on the farm. Once he remarried though he didn’t spend nearly as much time out on the farm. As my mother said once, “It’s amazing that as his father ages he doesn’t need his son’s help nearly as much as he did when he was younger.”

I, on the other hand, don’t believe in personality transplants. I think my stepmom has something on my dad and that’s why their marriage has lasted 30+ years. And following that logic if she had something on him she could effectively control him.

Even if my ex-husband is a completely different person with Harley what is important is how he was with me.

When I “lost” to Harley, I lost a man who rarely used my name when speaking to me. I lost a man who didn’t want to hold my hand in public (although he thought it was hilarious to grope me). I lost a man who told me on many occasions, “Only one of us can be crazy or unhappy at a time, and that person is always me.” I lost a man who took it as a personal insult if I was unhappy or sad or dared to complain about anything. I lost a man who shut himself off in the basement or bedroom, and then dared to justify his behavior with Harley because I “treated him like a wallet and a handyman.” I lost a man who didn’t really want to go on family vacations or outings with us. A man who didn’t bother to go to parent-teacher conferences with me most of the time (I think he attended two). A man who didn’t really seem to care about being a husband or a father when it came time for the day to day activities. I lost a man who didn’t want to socialize with me and friends together. I lost a man who had no interest in hearing my stories from my life before him, and who didn’t really seem to show much interest in my life outside of him when we were married.

More importantly, “losing” him to Harley led me to finding the mobster. It’s no secret that I would have probably stayed until the bitter end. Her swooping in with her “big win” allowed me to find a love I couldn’t even begin to imagine. Yes, I may have “lost” to the OW but do you want to know what I’ve won?

I’m with a man who thinks I’m funny. He genuinely laughs at my jokes.

He thinks I’m adorable. Seriously. I’ll do something and he’ll say, “You are so cute the way you…”.

He butters my roll for me without me even asking. He makes me breakfast. He wants to please me. He sends me flowers and chocolate covered strawberries.

He greets me every morning with, “Hi, Beautiful,”  “Hi, Cutie,” or, “Hi, Babydoll”.

He appreciates the things I do for him instead of merely tolerating them. He has thanked me over and over again for his “Box ‘O Love” and the surprise party I threw for him. He thanks me every time I drive the entire way to see him.

He thinks I’m smart and beautiful.

He listens to me. He listens to all my crazy stories, both present and in the past. I can tell him anything. And I do. He tells me to never apologize for complaining; he wants to hear everything. We’re partners and he wants to hear the good and the bad. He likes to hear about my day. I work in a bank, for crying out loud, and he treats it like I’m doing amazing and interesting work every day. Hell, I believe he even listened to me explaining Candy Crush to him in detail.

He doesn’t tell me only one of us can be crazy at once and it’s always him. In fact, he calms me down when I’m freaking out and he’s willing to take over if I need him to.

He tells me that I give wonderful advice and I’ve been so good for him and I always think things through and know just what to say.

He ran out to Wal-Mart when we were together for my daughter’s Family Weekend and bought me shampoo and conditioner because I hadn’t brought any and the hotel didn’t have any in the room. My mom told me later she was amazed that he was willing to do that and asked me if I could ever imagine CF doing that for me. Considering he grudgingly made me a lemonade when I was pregnant with his child after three miscarriages I’m going to say, “Probably not.”

He accompanied me to a wedding all the way out in Utah AND met a ton of my friends while out there. Some people would have found that to be much like a lamb being led to slaughter, but he was amazing. He was a bit nervous but he was genuinely pleased to finally be able to meet my friends.

He likes to socialize and have fun. He’s always up for adventure. My daughter has labeled him “the happiest person [she] knows.”

He lifts me up. He wants to be a full-time partner to me.

He’s more supportive and attentive to my kids than their own dad was.

And he’s funny. He makes me laugh and we have the best time when we’re together.

He picks flowers for me from the side of the road. He creates chalk signs for me when I come to visit and he buys balloons and decorates for me. He’s willing to drive 10.5 hours to see me. He sends me song lyrics and creates picture books of our adventures together. He gets me a cup of coffee when we’re together.

He’s also never cheated on me and never lied to me. He has been patient and understanding, especially in the beginning when I was a skittish mess. He is the most amazing man and I never would have met him if I hadn’t lost my husband to Harley.

Years ago I remember an interview the lovely, talented and graceful Michelle Kwan did. It was right after the Olympics, where she had been expected to take the gold, only to have someone snatch it out from under her. The interviewer asked her how she dealt with losing the gold medal. I still remember her response all these years later. I didn’t lose the gold. I won the silver.

Wow- talk about reframing a situation. Michelle didn’t lose anything. She won something that very people even have the opportunity to compete for. What does that have to do with infidelity and Harley and losing CF to her, you may be asking?

It’s simple. I don’t look at it as losing my husband to Harley. I look at it as “winning” the mobster and finally being in a relationship where I am valued, cherished and loved.

The Doubts

Welcome to Part 3 on my series of the folly of pain shopping. You can read Part 1 and/or part 2 if you are so inclined.

I do not want him back. He is a pox upon humanity. I am madly in love with the mobster and I am happier than I have ever been. Still…. I look at that shit on her Facebook and I wonder…

Was he right and we just weren’t good together? Is Harley better suited for him because she doesn’t mind sitting at home all day long? Will their love of Kentucky basketball see them through every hardship? Is she just better than me in his eyes, because he certainly didn’t want any part of the family life with me and our kids? I couldn’t get him out of his damn bed. I couldn’t pry him away from the TV. We didn’t take trips together. He didn’t feel the need to be a supportive dad to his own kids. He never complimented me where everyone in the world could see it.

Was he right and I was a terrible wife? I never put photo frames around his picture and declared I loved my veteran. I thanked him every year but I didn’t post pictures and photo frames and declarations of love. Maybe she is just all around better than me. I envision her working her 40+ hours a week, bringing home a substantial paycheck and still having plenty of time to cook dinner, clean house and do laundry all while being supermom to her kids. At least three of them.

I work 40+ works hours a week and bring home less now than I did when I first started, thanks to taxes, a 401k, and crappy medical insurance for me and my two kids. My mom cooks and does laundry. I rarely see my kids- Rock Star is gone a huge chunk of the time and Picasso is off doing his own thing in his room. I did begin and end this divorce with two kids so I’ve got that going for me. I’ll put that one in the win column for me.

I see pictures of them with all their pets so I know I didn’t turn him off because I loved animals and had a house full.

I sometimes even see witty memes and I think to myself, “That’s pretty funny; too bad you’re a whore.”

Was he right and I just wasn’t “the one”? I wasn’t a good fit and she is. Is it that simple? Maybe they really are deliriously happy together. Maybe it’s the love affair of the century, Kentucky style.

Maybe I just wasn’t the right wife for him and she is. Did I fail him? Did he at one point think I had all the necessary traits he wanted/needed in a wife, but over the years he came to realize I did not?

That is the fear, isn’t it? It’s not that the two people who did this to you are evil, horrible, rotten people who should be strung up and shot; it’s that those two people who did this to you are so much better suited to one another. They compliment each other. They fit together. They make a better couple. They realized it and weren’t afraid to plunge ahead while you clung to the past with everything you had. It’s about being bested by a whore with no morals who may actually be the better partner because God knows he does things for her and her kids that he never bothered to do for me and mine.

Was I the starter wife? Did he learn from his mistakes with me? Did he finally realize that barricading himself in the bedroom and submerging himself in the television all by himself was not the path to a happy marriage so now he’ll do better? Is that why he’s willing to do all the things that I would have loved for him to do with all of us?

Did I somehow prevent him from living up to his potential? Was I too overbearing when it came to the kids? Is that why he was reluctant to come with us but is always ready and willing to help out with her kids and to act like one big happy family with them?

Would insisting on family dinners around the table have helped? What if I was a better housekeeper? Maybe he wouldn’t have minded being in the living room instead of shutting himself off in the bedroom. Maybe it really was me! If I had kept the house cleaner and cooked more he never would strayed. Okay, that’s a little over the top. But maybe if I had kept the house cleaner he wouldn’t have chosen to stay in his bedroom so much, or chosen to remain downstairs in the basement watching television while the kids and I stayed upstairs. I’ve said before I think that was when the breakdown began and we began living separate lives, so if I had been better at that one thing then I could have saved this and my kids would never know a life of poverty. Her little snapshots of life are all about family life and being together and doing things together. I keep coming back to: If I had been a better housekeeper maybe he wouldn’t have retreated, and all those pictures of cozy Sundays in front of a fire, or outings with children could be us.

He kept telling me I could watch whatever I wanted on TV. He didn’t need to have it on ESPN or History Channel. I never believed him though, and truthfully, didn’t want to spend hours upon hours holed up in the bedroom. It seems like she doesn’t mind and maybe if I had forced myself to do that then I would still be married.

Was I too easy going? Did that disappoint him? Did he want someone to push back? Did he want more fire? Did I make things too easy for him? Perhaps I should have taken a stand and demanded more from him. Maybe when I sighed and took on more and more of the tasks he saw it as a sign I didn’t see him worth fighting for.

Did I just flat-out disappoint him when it came to being his wife? Were there tons of things I didn’t do that a good wife should do and that Harley the Whore obviously does? I didn’t fawn over him. I didn’t call him out on Facebook all the time. I didn’t marvel over him. I didn’t bring him a cool drink while he mowed the yard. I didn’t want to snuggle in bed all day with him. I didn’t want to watch Mountain Men with him. I fell asleep on the couch even once he “allowed” me to come back and sleep in the bed. Maybe I really didn’t love him the way you should love your husband. Maybe he is now getting the love he deserves and he feels complete and happy. We all know I couldn’t make him happy, no matter how hard I tried. She appears to make him happy all the time. If you don’t believe me take a gander at her Facebook page. Everyone there will tell you how happy they both look!

Why? That is the overwhelming question that rushes through my brain as I looked at all that crap. Why was he willing to do all of this with her and her kids? He could celebrate birthdays with them, go to the zoo, take “family” vacations, go to cheer competitions, go to the hospital with her kid and fetch candy. Why can he be Dad of the Year to her kids when all he could do with ours was sit in the bedroom and watch TV? Why did we have to practically beg him to go anywhere with us? How is it that now he’s able to go away on couple’s vacations and spend time together outside of the safety of his bedroom in the evening? Why is he getting his teeth fixed? Why is he suddenly getting involved in veteran’s groups? Why is he wearing sandals with jeans? Was it something about me? Did I lack something that would have motivated him to do those things? Is she just better at getting him out of his shell? Did he give up because he thought I didn’t care?

The mobster thought this had really gotten into my head. Maybe it has but I think it’s natural to see things like that and wonder, “Why the hell couldn’t he (or she) have done all of that while we were married? Why did it take blowing up the original family for the ex to finally act the way I wish he (or she) had acted when he was with me?

I can tell you this: I will no longer be looking at her Facebook page. I do know they are masters at image management. I know that if her head was on fire she would not acknowledge it. She’d be saying, “I’m a little chilly; anyone got a sweater?” I know that ultimately it doesn’t matter what kind of a cook she is, or how promptly she does laundry, or if she keeps a cleaner house than I did because she is a woman who has no qualms about sleeping with another woman’s husband. She’s a woman who is willing to cheat on her husband. No matter what good things she may do to cover up the evil that lies within, she is an awful person with crappy character and no moral compass.

I know I don’t want him back and that life is so much nicer without him in it. It doesn’t matter if he goes out to dinner with her daughter or shows up to support her at cheer competitions. It doesn’t matter if he goes to Show and Tell with her son, or is there to hold his hand when he hurts himself. No matter what good deeds he may perform for her children he will always be an ass who abandoned his own kids, who refused to pay child support for them while he drained a 401k of $10,000, and who tried to get out of paying sufficient support for them during his court trial. He played games with child support once he got a job and calculated child support for his “beloved” daughter down to the last half hour for crying out loud. He’s also a man who has no qualms about sleeping with another man’s wife and is willing and able to cheat on his wife. Not only was he willing to cheat on me, but he was willing to lie to me, make a fool out of me, take money away from his kids and give to her and her kids, and then financially rape me. He has crappy character and no moral compass. I guess they really are ideally suited for one another. Thank God no more nice people will be subjected to their lying, cheating ways. They can both wonder what the other one is up to. I think they are probably both too pleased with themselves to ever even consider the idea that the same could be done to them.

Stay away, everyone! Nothing good comes from pain shopping. Nothing! They make you doubt yourself when you know you’re sane. They make you question yourself and your actions even when you know you did nothing wrong. They can convince you that they are living a life of carefree joy and that all of that could have been yours if you had simply danced prettier. They’ll make you wonder what you did wrong and you’ll find yourself comparing yourself to someone who is so far below you there can never be a comparison. Even when you are happy in your new life one look at the cheaters and their life on social media is enough to make you stumble off of that path of newfound happiness and bliss; they’ll take you down a twisted road of doubt and anger and jealousy.  They are master manipulators and you will never be able to compete with their highlight reel. So don’t do it! Stay far, far away!

 

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.

An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 1

January 2016

I wrote this shortly after I received the famous text from CF.  I never sent it.  It got to be way too long; I essentially vomited up twenty plus years of rage and frustration and I figure if I was lucky he might read two or three sentences.  Nonetheless, I’m quite proud of it and I thought I would share.  Most of this is undoubtedly a repeat of things I’ve already shared.  There’s only so much that happened in the beginning and since I don’t speak to him if I can help it I don’t get a lot of new material.  Anyway, here it is.  Enjoy!

Sam, let’s try to figure out a way to make this less stressful for all involved. I am saddened that you felt compelled to toss out all of my memories and my clothing.  There are so few of them in this house.  In spite of all that has happened we have a history and that cannot be erased no matter how badly you want it to go away.  So you have a choice.  You can be bitter and hateful toward me, or respect the fact that I am setting you free of the burden of being my wife.  I know you will take a hit financially but you will be well provided for, we both know that.  My attorney has you covered for the rest of your life.

So stop all of this foolishness.  Let our children know I love them and let’s act like adults and come to a healthy relationship apart from all of this.  I respect you as a mother and you have followed me around the country and I am grateful to you for that.  Let’s build a future relationship that we can both be happy for each other and our children and show them that happiness and being whole are vital to a person’s future.  I read everything you wrote on your fake Facebook page.  I know you have been very unhappy.  It’s evident in what you wrote and your depression has heightened in the past two years.  I know you will be whole without me, we aren’t good together.  So all that said I want you and I to work on this.  To be grown up about it for the sake of our children.

I am not even sure where to begin with your long rambling text so I suppose I’ll begin with the obvious.  I’m not sure who you wrote that for but it wasn’t for my benefit.  Quite frankly, I’m not even sure you wrote it yourself. Secondly, you are not a victim so it would be refreshing if you could stop acting like one.  You are also not a hero so please stop acting like you’ve somehow done me a favor by cheating on me.  Again.

Do not patronize me with your “Let’s stop this foolishness and figure out a way to make this less stressful.”  Do you know how you could have made this less stressful?  You could have refrained from having sex with your cousin while you were married to me.  You could have refrained from having sex with your cousin while your children and I were on what was supposed to be a family vacation, a vacation (and family) you blew off so you could have sex with your cousin.  You could have refrained from moving me and your children 2000 miles across the country, uprooting our lives for *your* happiness, only to turn around and start up yet another affair with your cousin.  You could have been an adult and talked to me instead of turning to people who have never been there for you during your many crises.  You could have refrained from siphoning off thousands of dollars to your mistress while you lied about it and fed me a line of bullshit about it being for your mom.  You could have stood up and tried to act like a man instead of trying to convince yourself and everyone around you that you’re some hapless victim.  And as far as making this less stressful for everyone… what on earth about this is stressing you out?  You do whatever you want!  You live here during the week not caring whether there is enough in the bank account to pay bills or not, and then you take off every weekend to be with your mistress and her kids, spending money like it’s growing on trees and having yourself a fine time.

I have spent the last 2 years walking a tightrope for you, protecting you and being respectful of all your “issues”. I hid your affair from everyone in my family.  I let you get away with directing how I was allowed to heal.  I was even at the point where I was accepting the fact that your mom was going to continue to have a relationship with your mistress.  And what have you done?  You’ve thrown me under the bus time after time.  Not only that but you’ve actually had the audacity to act like you were somehow protecting me while throwing me under the bus! Half the time (if not more than half) you’ve told outright lies about me. Let’s not forget the biggie- you started screwing your cousin!  I don’t know why I continue to be amazed at how you can cheat on me, not once but twice (and with the same “woman” no less!) and yet still manage to act like you are the injured party.

To be continued…

 

What He Should Have Said

December 2014

Still having a hard time wrapping my mind around my anniversary and my husband’s conversation with his sister. And can I preface this by saying when I’m actually with my husband and we’re spending time together I’m fine. It’s when I have lots of free time to think and dwell on all of this that I become enraged. And let’s face it: I have lots and lots of free time because I moved 2000 miles away from all of my friends and everything I was involved in to support him in gallivanting around the country in order to grab his dream job. So I have no friends and nothing to keep me busy, and therefore lots of time to think bad thoughts about all of this.

My first thought is this: Does he ever get tired of throwing me under the bus? I mean, ffs, he spent God only knows how long telling his sister how miserable he was with me; then he spent considerable time telling her how happy he was with his lying little slut and how he loved her. I think I got a one sentence reprieve the day he supposedly ended it with the whore: I’m going to work things out with my wife. Wow- no, “I’m madly in love with her and she’s the one I’ve always wanted,” or “I can’t believe what a jackass I was and how I almost threw away the love of my life for a lying, manipulative whore!” No, just a short sentence letting her know he was going to do the righteous thing and wait out his sentence with me. And when she whines about me to him he immediately begs her forgiveness and says he never should have tried to be happy. How so, my darling husband? Do you mean you realize Harley the Whore is your true soul mate and you’re simply destined to a life of misery with me but you never should have fought it and attempted to be happy with her? You should have just accepted a miserable life with me? Do you mean that you’re not happy with me, have never been happy with me and realize you’ll never be happy with me and you’re accepting that? Let’s think about this for a moment. You told your sister you felt like nothing more than a paycheck and a handyman, and that we lived like roommates. You then told her you were having an affair with Harley, you loved her and she made you happy, and you wanted to marry her. Jezebel, of course, is completely on board with this and vows to give you her unconditional support. Then you abruptly end things with the soul mate and tell her you’re working things out with me. No fanfare. Just a simple statement. And now you are once again implying you are unhappy. Because I don’t make you happy like your little whore that sent you naked pictures and told you how she’d suck your dick every day once you left me? Baby Jesus wept! Do you really think that’s the impression you want to give to your pro infidelity sister? Not to mention I was very clear that you were not to discuss any martial problems with her. While I realize we’re not having problems you are certainly making it seem that way to the patron saint of infidelity.

Here’s an idea. Instead of telling her you’re so sorry for ruining her relationship with me and how you never should have tried to be happy maybe you should have gone with something like: I’m sorry I ruined your relationship with her. If I hadn’t been a dumbass, willing to toss aside my wife and kids for a deceitful, manipulative whore who promised me mind blowing sex and sent me naked pictures, you would never have been in this situation. But I did, and you, Jezebel, were my biggest supporter. You were fully on board with me cheating and leaving my wife. You told me the only thing that mattered was what made me happy because I deserved it. My wife knows the part you played and no, she’s not happy. But if you’re going to be mad at anyone be mad at me. Hell, if you’re honest with yourself it’s not as though I had to beg you to support me. You were there immediately; you jumped in with both feet, no questions asked. You never once thought of my wife and what this might do to her. Never once thought of my kids and what a divorce might do to them. I do realize that wasn’t your responsibility; it was mine. But let’s not rewrite history and act like you were forced, kicking and screaming, to support me. I’m sure you thought I’d leave her and marry Harley. Sorry to disappoint you and leave you with egg on your face. I came to my senses.

And let me tell you another thing. If you want to bitch about my wife you bitch to someone else because I have her back. I’m going to support her like she’s supported me these last 20 years. She’s been by my side, cheering me on, believing in me, when no one else was around. She’s moved all over the country with me; she’s left her family behind. She’s held our family together and raised our kids when I’ve checked out. She could have left me when she found out but she chose to swallow her pride and work on this together. She took responsibility for her own failures in our relationship even when I half heartedly confessed back in May. The Saint told her the truth about us and how we had been lying to her for months, the day of our daughter’s birthday party, 6 days after her stepfather died, and 2 days before she had to get on a plane and be there for her mother. She put a smile on her face and made sure our kid had an amazing day even though she was dying inside, thinking I was going to leave her, that I was going to choose Harley. And then she got on that plane and she went to be with her mother and her family and she kept my dirty little secret, never telling any of them. Do you have any idea how difficult that was? She’s getting shit from her family for constantly being on the phone with me because I’m falling apart and we’re trying to work things out, and she never tells them what’s really going on. She just continued to try to balance us both. I don’t ever have to be around her family wondering if they hate me for what I’ve done because they don’t know. I don’t ever have to worry about things being awkward and them holding it against me because she protected me and kept it to herself. She, on the other hand, has to be around everyone in our family who knows what I did. She has to wonder if they think she’s stupid for staying, if they blame her for being a shitty wife because, let’s face it, I wouldn’t have strayed if she’d been a better wife. She has to contend with the fact that all of you continue to have a relationship with the woman with whom I cheated on her. She didn’t want to go to home with me this Christmas and face humiliation but she did it because she loves me and she loves her kids and she knew how important it was to us, especially to me. She sucked it up and faced everyone who knows I’ve cheated on her. I’m sure it wasn’t easy but she did it. For me.

She’s been there for me when I’ve been practically catatonic. She’s been there through all my anxiety issues. She’s begged me to get help. She’s made appointments for me, attended appointments with me, encouraged me, and patiently waited for me to want to get better because she knows she can’t do it for me. She’s put up with me opting out of family outings, never going with her, never wanting to show her affection, kicking her out of our bed for almost 8 years, never wanting to go out with friends, not helping out with the kids. She puts up with me when I’m feeling sorry for myself. She ate the show lettuce at a company dinner because I did and she didn’t want me to look stupid. She’s my rock when I’m falling apart. She’s there day after day supporting me, cheering me on, comforting me. Where are you? You got married and you no longer needed me, couldn’t be bothered to text anymore. I spent $500 to fly to your wedding because it was so important to you that I be there and you barely spent 5 minutes with me that entire weekend. I almost missed the damn thing because you sent me out for a liquor run. I’m in none of the pictures and if she’s being honest my wife to this day doesn’t fully believe I was there instead of with Harley. My wife gave up all of her friends, everything she was involved in and moved 2000 miles across the country for me, so I could take my dream job. And she hates it. She’s miserable but she doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want me to feel guilty. You, on the other hand, couldn’t be bothered to drive 10 minutes to have a cup of coffee with me the last time I flew home. And that was on my own dime, not the company’s. I tell you I’m worried about my brother who is in critical condition and I get a one sentence reply from you hours later. And yet you still try to turn and twist it like anything that is wrong between us is due to my wife. She’s not the problem, Jezebel. You are. Don’t ever bitch about her to me, expecting me to take your side, because I won’t. She’s my wife. I love her. She is the love of my life, my partner, the mother of my children. She is the one that has held our family together. I have learned things about her and all that she does to make our lives better and more comfortable and I am in complete awe of her. I can’t imagine my life without her and I am so extremely grateful she gave me another chance instead of kicking me out and divorcing me. So bitch all you want but don’t do it around me. If I have to choose between my wife and my sister I will choose my wife every time.

Now THAT would be what I consider having my back. I wish one day he’d do that for me instead of always taking everyone else’s side. He did it for Jezebel. He did it for Harley. When that little whore came sniffing around, whining about not being able to do this anymore, he let her. He didn’t stand up for me. He was more concerned with her and her feelings. He felt sorry for her because “he’d led her on”. Oh please. Maybe you should have been a little more concerned about me because you FUCKING CHEATED ON ME! I think making it up to your wife is just a little more important than looking out for your whore’s fee fees. Obviously he doesn’t feel that way.

Sometimes the Prize Is No Prize

September 2014

All this talk lately of girlfriends, anniversaries, taking responsibility for your part in your spouse’s affair, rebuilding, punishing has got me thinking. If I don’t want to celebrate our anniversary and I don’t want to be around his family and I resent having to text him like his whore, and I hate the fact that good changes have come about out of bad does that mean I’m still punishing him? I don’t think it does. I think it means my eyes are open. I used to believe he would never cheat. His friend actually told me he would never cheat. But he did. He was unhappy and he found someone else, someone he believed made him happy, someone he thought he loved, someone he wanted to marry. And now I’m left knowing my husband is capable of cheating on me if he’s unhappy. I get to live the rest of my life knowing that I have to be on constantly. If I don’t fuck him enough, don’t suck his dick often enough he’ll cheat. If I don’t spend enough time with him, text him enough, talk to him enough, he’ll cheat. Maybe next time it will be physical. Maybe she’ll live closer. I pray I don’t get in an accident and become disabled. I pray I don’t contract an illness which would require him to care for me. In either of those situations I would no longer be able to fuck him and he’d cheat. And he’d have his sister in his ear telling him that if it made him happy that’s all that matters. What a prize I have “won”!

Yeah, I know this makes me sound bitter and unforgiving but fuck you! I don’t give a shit.

My Bitch List, Part 14

Part 14 will conclude the Airing of the Grievances. If you’ve been following along on my blog for a while now these will probably, once again, be repeats but I wanted to put them in a neat, tidy list!

  • He moved out of the state after moving us 2000 miles away from our lives. On top of that he didn’t even bother to tell his children that he moved. He didn’t tell them he moved out of the house, much less that he moved out of the fucking state!
  • He also resigned from his job of 15 years.
  • He told people I not only threw away all of his clothes, but also that I tossed them into garbage bags and threw them in the trash. They were all hanging in the damn guest room closet! He lived in that room for 5 months. He knew they were there. The rest of his clothes, the ones in the dressers, were still sitting there. They’re *still* sitting there. He knew that, too, seeing as how he came into my room to grab them.
  • He insists upon telling people that I threw everything associated with him away. I’m guessing he’s talking about pictures. Not true. They’re all either in drawers or sitting on the floor up against the wall. It’s not like he has to dig around in the attic to find them!
  • He’s telling people I made him move. He told his daughter he had no choice and told his sister that I made him leave his home and his kids AND that I wouldn’t allow him to take anything from the house with him. Again, not true. He merely had to pay rent.
  • After driving to see his whore every single weekend from August-February (a 6 hour drive one way) once he moved he actually expected our daughter to drive to see him. Yes, he wanted a brand new driver to get on the highway/toll road, drive 70 mph and make a 7 hour trip to see him because he couldn’t be bothered to drive to see her and her brother.
  • He angrily told our son, “Why don’t you read the court document and stop listening to everything you’re told?” when he asked about their allowances. That would be the same son he tried to justify his affair to by telling him we hadn’t been happy since having kids.
  • Now he’s telling our daughter he has no money because he has to pay off all the credit cards that I ran up.
  • Found out he had another emotional/sexting affair. Sonofabitch! And once again he lied like a rug about it when confronted. He told me she was a stalker, someone he had tried to help but then she ended up becoming inappropriate with him. Liar!
  • Tried to get his daughter to play into his pity party when she didn’t recognize him on Memorial Day. Told her she knew it was the worst day of the year for him, every year. She replied that the worst day of her life was finding out her dad was cheating on her mom. His response? I’m sorry about that but your mom never loved me. So I guess that makes it okay to cheat? Ever heard of divorcing BEFORE you find your next wife?
  • He resigned from his new job, checked into a psych ward and told me he wasn’t going to be sending me anymore money which forced his daughter to switch schools her junior year of high school. Twenty-one years of listening to him bitch about how he hated switching schools all the time when he was younger for what? At least he never had to switch high schools. It also forced us to move, yet again, over 600 miles away and move in with my mom. My kids have had to leave all of their new friends behind. My daughter has had to give up being the captain of the gymnastics team and probably the captain of the cheerleading team, as well. She has resigned herself to simply going to school and working. Hooray!
  • He moved us the first time, wrecking any chance she had of getting a gymnastics scholarship because there were no gyms close by. Now he has wrecked any chance of her getting a cheerleading scholarship because none of the damn schools up here have competitive cheer. He has also completely taken gymnastics away from her. It’s done. There are no teams at the high schools and it was way too expensive to send her to a private club. Thanks, Dad! Hey, can you get your whore to come tell me what a great father you are again? I’d love to punch her in her fucking face right about the time she finished up with, “He’s such a good dad!” BAM! Shut your fucking mouth, whore!
  • Thanks to this new move, my daughter has to start all over with a learner’s permit. I spent $200 on nothing.
  • Shit Face can’t be bothered to contact his own kids but has no problems posing on FB with his fake son.
  • Despite the fact that he isn’t divorced and despite the fact that he was having an affair he has a picture of the whore and him together as his profile picture and lists his status as “in a relationship” with the whore.

Hopefully there will not be a part 15. Hopefully he will stay out of my life and out of my sight and I will never have cause to create another list about the dumb/insensitive/nasty/disrespectful/selfish things he’s done.

My Bitch List, Part 13

Ah yes, life with the wife and kids versus life with the whore and her kids. And more end of the relationship shit. Again, a lot of this was written while it was happening and I haven’t changed the verb tenses so if it seems suspicious that we’re still living together… well, we’re not. It’s in the past although not far enough in the past to please me.

    • I sat in on a therapy session with him, the therapist and I both coaching him on getting through the drive for his so called business trip.  Yes, that’s right.  I coached him so that he was able to drive off and go fuck a whore.
    • Another stupid move on my part: He started coming home at lunch because he was pissed off at his boss. Apparently, he wanted to skip lunch and leave work more along the lines of 4 or 4:30. His boss expected him to stay until 5. CF mentioned to me that the only reason they stayed so long was because they all took a 2 hour lunch. So he started coming home for his 2 hours. I would go upstairs and sit with him while he answered emails or watched TV, or more importantly, texted and sexted with the whore. Such a good dutiful wife.
    • I find out he’s siphoned off thousands of dollars in marital assets to give to the whore, has spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars on her each month, has bought her a diamond ring and bought her kids a puppy, bought her and her daughter new iPhone 6s and is paying their cell phone bill, cashed in stock, opened a separate account, and has just generally been a dickhead.  He then has the nerve to tell me that this can still be civil.  Yeah, right!
    • Later I found out he could spend over $300 on a prom/dance type dress for Harley’s daughter but he couldn’t give me $80 for a dress for his own child.  Also saw his charge card statement for Christmas- hundreds of dollars spent at Ulta, Francesca’s, American Eagle, Dick’s Sporting Good, Walmart… so nice to know he’s got extra money.
    • That same month, when he didn’t have money to pay his share of the household bills, and didn’t have money to buy his daughter a homecoming dress, he managed to have enough money to buy an approximately $4200 engagement ring for his home wrecking whore. She/He/They also spent almost $200 at Vera Bradley, over $400 at some sports store (for her kids, no doubt), hundreds on vision care, over $400 on Harley’s utilities, and more than $1500 on Harley’s lawyer so she could get her divorce. That was all in one month. Glad to see he has his priorities straight!
    • He couldn’t go out to dinner with either of his kids for their birthday because of his “issues” yet somehow he has no problem going out to eat with his dysfunctional family, his whore, or her kids.  Nice.
    • He lives here during the week and waltzes off every weekend to go be with his whore.  He is beyond bold about this.  It is more like a slap in the face.  A big “fuck you!” to all of us.
    • 30 minutes after I tell him I know he’s fucking his cousin and giving her money he asks me if we’re still having spaghetti for dinner.  And then later that evening asks again.  When I tell him no he has the nerve to ask me what there is to eat around here.
    • When his whore posts on Facebook how she is having such a sleepless night because she misses the comfort she’s grown so accustomed to my daughter flips out and sends him an angry text.  He ends up trying to turn it all around into how he’s the poor put upon victim.  He’s not welcome.  He pays all the bills.  He starves while we eat.  I guess the dumb shit is actually waiting for me to bring him a fucking plate of food still!  She never posted that!  I don’t know what you saw or what someone told you but it wasn’t her!  Then when it’s proven that it was indeed her he says he wasn’t trying to lie and he had never seen that and then continues on with his victim stance.
    • The bastard accused me of stealing every dime he makes.  Fuck you!
    • Over the course of 4 months, from the beginning of September until the end of December, he had access to approximately $30,000. He had no bills- no cell phone, no car payment (I had made the final payment with the money he believed he would owe me), no car insurance (I paid that), no rent or mortgage, no utilities. I point this out because that $30k he had access to was all fun money. By the end of December he had a little over $600 in the account. At one point there was just over $100 in it. And he wants to talk about me spending money? At least when it was me our kids had everything they needed and most of what they wanted.
    • He continues to try to justify his affair to our children.  He even told our daughter that I “didn’t take care of him.”  Oh please!  Is that why she tells me, “Mom, I would have left him years ago!  I wouldn’t have put up with half of what you put up with,”?

My Bitch List, Part 12: The Sex Edition

This one is mainly about sex so I would appreciate it, MOTHER, if you wouldn’t read this one. I’m warning you there is not enough brain bleach to unsee or unread what is ahead. STOP NOW!

    • He would grope me in public, thinking that was cute.
    • The first picture I ever saw of the slut her hair was darker.  She then went blonder, like me.  He told me he preferred it darker and longer (on me).  So one day at the salon I ask him to send me his favorite picture of me, the one that had my hair the way he liked it, to give my stylist an idea of how dark to go.  He sends me the picture.  And then immediately sends me another picture- of my pubic area.  With my hairdresser looking over my shoulder to get an idea of what color to dye my hair.  Fucking pig.  Harley also is wearing her hair a lot darker these days.  Wow- another amazing coincidence!
    • I often slept nude whenever I slept in our bed. He would sometimes take pictures of me, naked, while I slept. There were also times I would wake to find him masturbating on me while I was asleep.
    • He bought me a new car when we moved.  Then decided I should make “payments” on it in the form of blow jobs. Too bad, so sad for him. That damn car never got paid for.
    • He liked me to talk dirty to him and wanted me to tell him stories about me and my friends.
    • He mentioned a few times how he’d like to watch me have sex with another guy, or have a threesome. Yeah, that didn’t happen either.
    • Despite cheating on me with Harley he seemed to really get off on requesting nude photos of me. The last time he asked he had lied and told me he was off visiting Blockhead. As we’re chatting about me registering the kids for school (which was a mindfuck all in itself because I had no idea what was going to happen) he wants to know why I haven’t sent him a picture of my boobs yet.
    • Right around the time he began sleeping with Harley he gave me this sob story about thinking he was impotent so he would prefer I not even try to come on to him because it would make him feel bad. In hindsight that was just an excuse. Isn’t that sweet and considerate of him to worry about cheating on his fucking mistress/whore?
    • The day I filed for divorce he came home for lunch. I was wearing a t-shirt and a skirt because I figured I should look presentable when I went to visit my attorney. That asshole actually got turned on by me and had a raging hard-on. Ha! Joke’s on you, Cousinfucker. I looked good because I was planning on leaving your ass!
    • He was apparently showing naked pictures of me to his whore.  Nice.

People, seriously, I don’t know how I stayed as long as I did. I’ve told some of these stories to others and they call it abuse. I’m not sure I would go that far but it sure as hell wasn’t respectful.