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.

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He has a way with words, doesn’t he? The above title was what he wrote in his comments section upon finally paying me half of his court ordered spousal support this month.

I so badly wanted to comment back: Does Harley know you no longer think her pussy is worth $2800/month?

Follow up question: How does she feel about you no longer thinking she’s worth the money you pay out every month?

Finally: Do you realize you could buy a high priced call girl for less than what you’re paying for Harley?

The real question is did he ever think it was worth $2800/month or did he simply think he was going to ride off in the sunset with the whore cousin and pay whatever he decided was fair?

I think we have a winner there. Poor Harley. He must be such a joy to live with. I wonder (only momentarily) how she feels about his ongoing obsession with me?

Douche, I mean dude, you’re newly married! You should be much more focused on your brand new, only slightly dented wife. Stop focusing on the ex and start focusing on all the wonderful things you’ve gained- like a cheating whore and children who already have a dad.

Then again, so long as he’s bringing in a paycheck she probably doesn’t care.

Dealing with him three years later is interesting. I couldn’t really say in the beginning, “I never thought he could do this to me!” because obviously he could. He had done it two years prior. I was surprised though at the depths to which he sank- the ease with which he told his lies, the vicious deceptions, the financial abuse, the cowardly behavior, the abandonment of his children. Then I found Anne and soon realized there was a whole other layer I had yet to explore. Now, I’m amused at how childish and petty he is.

I mean, for God’s sake, the man moved us across the country to get closer to the semen demon. He lied right to my face. He did awful things. He blew through more than $30k in four months, wining and dining the whore and having the time of his life while I pinched pennies and had to repeatedly deny our kids things. He turned his back on his kids and then preceded to act like he was the victim. He used our home as an extended stay hotel during the week and took off to be with the whore on the weekends- every weekend- for six months after I found out what he was doing. February 2016 he walked out the door like it was any other day. Went to work and afterwards drove to Kentucky and moved in with Harley. Never said a word. I found out when my support payment wasn’t directly deposited into my account. After I contacted his boss, of course. He then ends up losing his new job and doesn’t send a dime my way for the next ten months. I worked two jobs while he worked none. Then when he finally gets another job he moves the cunt face cum dumpster and her kids into a new home while declining to pay his modified support, instead choosing to pay only a fraction of what he owed. In all that time he never once bothered to drive to see his kids. Oh no, because once again he was struggling with anxiety and PTSD. Yes, once reality began to settle in somewhat he put on the performance of a lifetime in order to try to get out of paying decent spousal and child support.

If anyone should be bitter and angry and prone to petty, angry outbursts it should be me! But no. I’m happy as a lark. Doing quite well, thank you. Taking his money is like a salve on my soul.

He is living back in his home state, a place where he was dying to get back to; he is married to the whore, the one who made him so “happy”. He has new pets and new kids- all of which undoubtedly appreciate him in a way his old pets and kids did not. He left behind the job in Virginia, the one he complained about endlessly, and now has another six figure job. Because his kids were 15 and 13 when he pulled his disappearing act he will only pay child support for six years total and he has already received a cut in that support because Rock Star has graduated. He’s living in a brand new 2800 square foot home with the whore and her kids. They go out to celebrate birthdays as a family. They take family vacations. They fly off to Vegas for tacky weddings. By all accounts he should be happier than a pig in shit. But he’s not.

Instead he’s lashing out at me. Horrible, horrible me who has done nothing to him. The man who has everything he has ever wanted is unhappy and whining because… consequences. Oh the injustice! Hey Cousinfucker, you want some cheese with that whine?

Who Had June 25th or Six Months Post Divorce?

Cousinfucker and Harley the Whore got married in Vegas. My mom told me. Isn’t that quaint? The two cheaters made it official. Now the destruction they wrought has purpose.

Can I just say, “Vegas? Really?” On one hand it makes perfect sense. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. It’s all cheap drinks, gambling, and street performers. It’s showmanship and glitz. It’s a mirage. Perfect for cheaters like them. A farce registered at Macy’s and celebrated in Vegas.

On the other hand I can still remember him tearfully telling me that he felt so isolated out west. If he had to stay there much longer he would wind up in the psych ward. Apparently he can get married out there; he just can’t live out there.

As far as I know my kids have no idea their daddy has remarried or that they now have a brand spanking new step mommy and four step-siblings. Rock Star has said nothing so far and if I know her like I think I know her she could only sit on this information for a day or two.

Picasso washed his phone and it no longer works so even if his dad wanted to contact him he couldn’t.

I haven’t said anything because it’s not my news to tell, and frankly, I found this all out just as I was leaving work to go down and surprise the mobster for his birthday. None of us needed a cloud hanging over our heads thanks to CF.

I will also add that while he was all tears and stone faced for his daughter’s graduation, he was smiling in his new wedding pictures. Can’t smile for or with his daughter, but can grin away for a whore.

Honestly, it left me feeling strange for a few hours. As the mobster said, it’s like the final discard. He has completely and totally replaced me with this horrid other person. It was a little weird to think that she was taking over my spot in that family. I suppose I should add legally taking over, because let’s face it, she replaced me a long time ago. That’s really at the heart of it. I was effortlessly replaced and no one said a word. It was as if, despite twenty-one years with him, I had never existed.

Fear not! I don’t want him. I don’t grieve the loss of him. As I said I was on the way to see the mobster and throw him a fabulous surprise 50th birthday party. The mobster is my future. Despite any weird feelings CF’s marriage brought up I know I’m so much better off. I am happier than I’ve ever been.

Them? Well, let’s say I wish them all the happiness they deserve. He’s a man who cheated on his wife. She’s a woman who cheated on her husband. And who cheated on him in the first six months they were engaged in their affair! How much longer can he keep that mask on and convince her he’s a loving family man, a doting daddy to her kids? How much longer can she keep her legs closed to other men? Or refrain from sending naked pictures to other men? How long until she winds up being arrested again for writing bad checks because all that extra money that was so new and exciting is now routine? That’s the crappy thing about pretending to be someone you’re not. Eventually you can’t keep up the charade any longer and the real person comes out. Uh-oh!

Now a new pool will begin. How long will this last? How long until she cheats on him again? Anyone think he will be the cheater once again? Final bet: Will he tell his kids what he’s done, and if so, how long until he does so?

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Graduation Day aka The Day Hell Froze Over

If you know me in real life you’ve probably heard this story.

We moved from the Memphis area up to Michigan when Rock Star was 7 months old. A few months after our move I saw many signs advertising for graduation open houses. Her birthday is in early June so it coincides with many graduations. I had been driving by these signs and I told CF one day, “That’s going to be her someday.” He looked at me like I was crazy.

“She’s not even a year old yet. You’ve got some time. Let’s focus on her first birthday party before we begin planning the graduation party.”

These weren’t exact words (well, mine were; I absolutely remember saying that to him), but you get the gist of it. Here I was, a young mom of a not quite one year old, and I was already getting wistful about the day she graduated.

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I remember reading articles from moms who were sending their babies off to college at the same time I was sending Rock Star off to kindergarten. My eyes would well up with tears because I knew, although it was new, this starting school thing, it would pass by in the blink of an eye.

I remember holding back tears as she climbed on that school bus the very first time, waving to her before the doors shut, and then driving up to the school so I could take pictures of her very first day of school. Hey! I was not the only parent up there that day!

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I remember the fear I felt when she began middle school. My little baby girl going off to the big school with all those older kids. Why I didn’t fear my kindergartner going off to school with all those big kids, I do not know. But I do know I worried about the beginning of middle school. Maybe it’s because I never thought about a sixth grader picking on a five year old; I guess I didn’t ever think it happened. Maybe it’s because they’re so much more segregated in the elementary school years. Or because the “dangers” aren’t as plentiful. Maybe it was because you end up getting very familiar with elementary school. They remain there the longest period of time. Maybe it’s because you think of all the kids in elementary school as kids, regardless of age, but those kids in middle school… well, they’re teenagers and you all know the dangers of the older teens! They might lead your baby into temptation.

Finally, I remember her high school orientation. They talked about how this would be a great four years and how this high school would feel like home to them by the end of it. Seniors spoke of their time at the school and how quickly it had passed by. The speakers even talked about what was to come in the later years- perks like the senior parking lot and the seniors only outside area. They encouraged them to get involved. Assured them they would love it there. My baby was entering high school! Only four more years and she would leave the nest.

She was the new kid at school. Nervous. Shy. She wanted us to go with her but they separated the students and parents and that’s when an angel of a teacher stepped in and took Rock Star under her wing. She introduced her to her daughter and her daughter’s friends and by the time we were brought back together for dinner she was off with her new friends. She never looked back. I’m sorry she had to leave it behind.

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What a beautiful segue way into CF and his attendance. He is, after all, the reason she didn’t graduate from that high school.

I was all set to write a blistering post about him not being there and how he should have been. I was composing it in my mind when he went and messed that up. Good for him. It wasn’t much but it was better than him not showing up at all.

Shortly before graduation Rock Star announced to me that she thought her dad had contacted her to ask if she had a ticket for him so that he could attend her graduation.

“What do you mean you think he contacted you?” I asked her.

She goes on to tell me that she had deleted him from her contacts list so she wasn’t sure it was him (like so many random people text her and ask her for a ticket to her graduation). She told me the area code and I confirmed that it was him (based on nothing more than the area code, but again how many random people are texting and asking her if they can attend her graduation?).

I asked her what she wanted to do and she told me she didn’t care but she didn’t want to deal with him. It was left to me to put on my big girl panties and text him, letting him know that if he wanted a ticket there was one available. Honestly, ticket availability was not an issue. I also offered to mail it to him because I didn’t know the best way to get it to him. I didn’t know if I would hear back from him or not. Remember, he typically tends to ignore me. I wasn’t sure what I would get if he responded. I also figured it was a pretty big if.

He surprised me and replied to my message eventually. About seven hours passed between me texting with the offer and him taking me up on it. But he did reply. Told me he would love a ticket. He said mailing it would be fine if I thought it would make it there on time. It turns out he had taken some initiative and had done some research because he also informed me that from what he had read on the website they wouldn’t get their tickets until they did their practice graduation the day before.

We had a polite exchange which ended with him agreeing to meet me at work at noon when I got off the day of graduation and I would give him the ticket then.

I did let my co-workers know I was going to be meeting him so if someone found my dead body in the parking lot they knew where to look, but it never came to that. Obviously since I’m writing this.

He texted to let me know he was there. I texted him about 15 minutes later to let him know I was on my way out. He met me in the parking lot. I gave him the ticket. He asked me if I would give Rock Star the two cards he had for her. I said yes; he said thank you and turned and walked back to his car. That was it.

I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s not as though I wanted to go grab a coffee and reminisce with him. I found it somewhat odd, though, that a ten second exchange was the extent of our conversation on the day our daughter graduated from high school. That day I had tearfully lamented only weeks before her first birthday back when we were new parents was finally here and instead of celebrating together or sharing our pride in her or making any kind of conversation about her, we were reduced to a ten second superficially courteous exchange.

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I’m not sad. Again, I didn’t want to go off and have drinks with him. I didn’t want to pretend that we were best buddies. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe I thought he might try a little bit harder. Maybe I thought he would comment on Rock Star and how our daughter was graduating. Maybe say something like, “It’s hard to believe she’s graduating; do you remember how you were freaking out about this 17 years ago before her first birthday?’ or, “Our daughter did it. She graduates today. Can you believe it?” or, “Did you ever think this day would come? Where did the time go?” Hell, not to go off the rails but possibly I thought he might thank me for raising her and getting her to this point in her life. “Thanks for standing by our kids and doing the right thing after I walked out on them.” I know- crazy talk!

Instead he thanked me, as one would thank a cashier or a server, and turned and walked back to his car. He was wearing a shirt I had bought him years ago, and flip flops with jeans. In all my years of being with him I don’t recall him ever wearing sandals or flip flops with jeans. He barely wore them with shorts.

He has put on weight. He had lost about 50 pounds when a doctor told him there were fatty deposits on his liver and if he didn’t lose weight he would have to have his liver biopsied. He’s gained it all back, although I wouldn’t call him fat. I never thought of him as fat.

I did drive around to pass by his car to see if he was alone or if he had brought the whore with him. I knew she didn’t have a ticket but I didn’t know if she would be accompanying him up to the city. Spoiler alert: He was alone.

He had said in a text when trying to arrange a meeting time for the ticket that he would be coming up the day of graduation, and that his room wouldn’t be ready until 3, but that could have all been a lie and she might have been tucked away at the hotel for all I know.

My mom informed me when I arrived at the graduation site that she had seen him and that he was wearing a suit and tie. For some reason this really irritated her. How dare he dress nicely!

I later spotted him from our seats. He was two or three sections over, sitting by himself. I was with a group of nine other people, not including Rock Star or Picasso. He, btw, was down in the orchestra pit, playing Pomp and Circumstance as his sister graduated. Very cool.

At one point the principal asked all parents, grandparents, and guardians of the graduating seniors to stand. I glanced over in his direction to see what he would do. He remained seated.

It might have been my mom, but it could have been a friend, who was appalled at the idea he remained seated. At the time I was thinking, “You better not stand up, you sonofabitch! You haven’t done a damn thing to help raise this kid.”

“But he’s her parent! Why wouldn’t he stand?”

Because he has played no part in getting her to this point! Perhaps if we considered more than just the high school years he could have made an argument about standing. But if we’re going strictly by the four years of high school? No, he has no right.

He moved her across the country and made her give up everything she loved, and once she adjusted and found a new life, an awesome new life, he yanked that away, too, by cheating on me and opting to destroy her family. He cut us off financially and while he gave Harley and her kids everything he possibly could, he let his own kids suddenly struggle. While Harley’s kids were living a dream life filled with puppies and expensive dresses and every little fun thing under the sun thanks to new Daddy, his own kids were having to cut back and do without.

He barely played a part in her life her first year of high school. He was engaged the first half, but the second half he was too busy feeling sorry for himself and checking out of the family. He completely checked out her second year, not having a single conversation with her despite living in the same home until February, and choosing to move six hours away without saying a word. And for the last two, after ripping this new life to shreds and forcing her to start over yet again, he hadn’t set eyes on her.

I asked her at one point how she felt about her dad attending graduation. Her response was that she didn’t really care. “He can’t just show up for the big days,” she told me.

I later found out that he had texted her while he was up here. I guess he told her that he was available if she wanted to talk. From what I heard she ignored him and never responded.

I also learned that after we were done taking pictures and most of us had taken off to go to the restaurant her dad came out of the shadows to get a picture with her. She said he approached her crying and then apologized for crying. She was over it (all his tears) by then. She might have mentioned something about rolling her eyes, but I’m not sure if she really did, or if it was a mental eye roll. She did agree to have her picture taken with him. He looks serious and somber. She is smiling, a photogenic beauty. It’s what she does when the camera is pointed her way.

Why would he not be grinning from ear to ear? It’s a fantastic day! His daughter has just graduated from high school. This is a huge milestone in her life. He should be delighted. He should be happy and smiling and eager for what is next to come.

Instead it’s all about him. His sadness. His pity party. If I thought for even a moment his sadness was because of all that he’s missed out on with his piss poor choices, or that it was regret for all that he threw away, I might have a tiny bit of sympathy for him. I know it’s not. It’s all about acting pitiful in the hopes that she will feel sorry for him and kick everything under the rug.

The mobster has said it’s sad. He quickly assures me that he doesn’t feel sorry for CF; oh no, he chose all of this. But he still thinks the whole situation is sad. He says it shouldn’t be awkward to have both of your parents at graduation; it should be a happy time and we should be celebrating together. In an ideal world, of course. I’m rather “eh” about it. None of this should have happened. Yet it did. You deal with what you have and try to make the best of it.

I know this has been a rather long post to say pretty much nothing. It was an anticlimactic event. I was shocked he reached out to her, even more shocked that he replied to my text. I found our 10 second interaction to be a little weird although I’m still not sure why. There was no other interaction between him and anyone else. My mom didn’t shoot him. My brother didn’t end up in fisticuffs with him. No shoot out at the OK Corral between him and the mobster. I do find it a little creepy that he was probably watching all of us as we gathered around Rock Star and took pictures. He had to have known the mobster was up for her graduation. I also find it a little sad that he had no interaction with Picasso. Granted, my mom took him with her to the restaurant and they left even before we did, so he didn’t have a chance to say anything to him. He had to have seen him though when we were taking pictures.

In the end I’m glad for Rock Star that her dad showed up. Even if she says she doesn’t care or that she didn’t want him there I know it would have been a hell of a lot harder on her to realize her dad didn’t care enough to even bother to attend. I know she thought that was the way it would happen, so I’m glad for her sake that she was wrong.

Please don’t misunderstand. I don’t think what he did took a hell of a lot of effort. I don’t think it took much effort at all, in fact. Sure, he had to take a few vacation days and spend money on gas, but it really was the least he could have done. I don’t think he’s turned over a new leaf or that he will be one bit more involved in his kids’ lives. This was the first time he set eyes on them in over two years and my guess is that it will be another three years before he sees either of them again. If he bothers to attend Picasso’s graduation, that is.

Considering he claims he doesn’t know his son’s phone number, and doesn’t have a clue on how he could possibly get it, my hopes are not high that he will come through for his son. And that makes me very sad.

 

 

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More Musings On His Delusional Text

I’m not going to dwell on this too much because it doesn’t deserve anymore of my time. There were a few things I wanted to touch on though, and I know the original post was getting quite long. I thought it would be much easier to break it up into at least two posts.

The mobster was losing his shit when I first told him about this. He was all set to call him and tell him to knock it off. He wanted me to march down to the police department and file a restraining order as well. He even thought about filing one.

I explained that none of that would make a difference. If anything it would either a. inflame the situation even further, or b. just give him a huge amount of kibbles. He’s not central in my life. Why let him think he is?

My brother was a lot more restrained and I think that helped to reign in the mobster. Document, document, document. Oh, he did tell me I need to get my license to carry and buy a gun and start going to the range. That’s on my To Do list for the weekend. It looks like this:

  1. Put my clothes away
  2. Do laundry (yes, those really are two separate things and I can stand to put clothes away before I actually do laundry)
  3. Get my liquor license so I can bartend on weekends
  4. Pick up the house
  5. Write a couple blog posts
  6. Do something with my kids
  7. Get my license to carry
  8. Buy a gun
  9. Respond to blog comments and FB messages

Fun stuff, huh?

Maybe I’m stupid or sticking my head in the sand, but I’m really not that worried. He hasn’t seen his kids in almost 2 years. He supposedly can’t drive once again, according to his court testimony. He can only drive 6 hours for pussy and murder? I doubt it. Pussy? Obviously. Murder? He’s too lazy to make the effort.

My sister-in-law did talk to a retired police officer she knows about the situation and I’ve been told I can file a report for the harassment he’s been doing, and then seek a no contact order through the courts. I was a little surprised because the rant was to his sister, not me. He didn’t seem overly concerned or think that I was in imminent danger.

My brother has said pretty much the same thing. As long as he’s with Harley I should be safe. If Harley dumps him once the money runs out he thinks I might want to keep a closer watch over my shoulder.

I’ve always thought that if he was going to try to kill me (yes, it has crossed my mind- I used to watch a lot of ID TV) that he would either shoot me from a distance, or he would hire someone. I remember him telling me stories of how he had shot people in Iraq from quite some distance, and much like he’s practically a Ranger, he’s also practically a trained sniper. And a hired hit man? Well, it certainly keeps his hands clean. He is the smartest man you’ll ever come across so he undoubtedly would believe that would be a fail proof plan. My brother, however, doesn’t think CF would try to shoot me from some distance away; nor does he think he would hire someone. If it ever comes to that he believes it will be up close and personal. He’ll either shoot me or potentially stab me. Either way it will be face to face. Or so he believes. Which is why I’m supposed to get a gun and carry it with me at all times. And spend plenty of time at the range.

I also contacted my lawyer to let her know what was going on and to get her opinion. I let her know I had proof he was the one who hacked my account. I told her about the email lists I’m pretty sure he’s signing me up for. I told her about the message to his sister and read a few key parts. She asked me if I was afraid for my life and I told her I wasn’t. She said she could send an email to his attorney and tell her I was going to file a police report if he didn’t knock it off, but that I would be tipping my hand. He probably wouldn’t stop; he would just go further underground and not contact anyone he knew I was communicating with. If he really was going to come after me it would be best if he was doing everything in the open, none the wiser, and I could keep an eye on him somewhat, at least through other people.

Having spent a good many years watching Criminal Minds, and reading books about killers, I am also well aware that people can become unhinged after a stressor in their life. With Tammy Faye being sick and almost dying I do sometimes worry that the loss of his mother will send him around the bend. It’s not an overwhelming fear, but the thought is there. I will be vigilant if it happens.

I know he’s concocted this alternate reality where I’m the villain and he’s the victim. I’m a money hungry, parental alienating monster that emotionally abused him, dismissed his mental health issues, treated him like an ATM machine, and never loved him or took care of him. I pretty much drove him into Harley’s arms. And now I’m destroying another woman’s happy home, causing their children endless amounts of pain because I’ve decided to steal their father for my very own.

Most of it I shrug off. I know the truth. I also know that trying to defend myself against his wild, delusional accusations will all be for naught. He is always the victim. He’s done nothing wrong.

I know that his sister did not help me. We had maybe four or five conversations throughout the entire divorce. I clearly remember the first one because it was right after she sent me the message telling me she would always consider me family, and her saying that all he had told her was that I had filed for divorce and he didn’t know why. You can bet your ass I called her up and set the record straight. Oh hell no! He was not going to get to act like the victim.

I remember talking to her at least one other time where she told me he had told her I had thrown all of his things away and I refused to let him take anything from the house.

Aside from that it was a random, “Happy New Year” or “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Mother’s Day” text. Hardly earth shattering and ultimate betrayal type stuff. Certainly not bad enough to be put on a very exclusive enemies list!

She told him from the beginning that he was going to pay a very steep price for leaving me after twenty years of marriage and me being a stay at home mom who had followed him all over the country. I already knew that; it was certainly nothing she clued me in to. I had talked to a lawyer two days after finding out what he was up to. I knew what I was entitled to. He’s the one that didn’t believe her. He’s the one that didn’t do his homework and then lied to his attorney so he wasn’t given the full picture of what he would be paying.

I don’t regret my relationship with the mobster at all. I do regret the fact that I gave Cousinfucker even a tiny little opening to assuage his guilt, if it can even be called that. Sociopaths don’t have guilt.

He can use the fact that two years after he’s caught cheating on me I am finally with someone who treats me the way he should have all those years, and try to twist it as though I’m doing the exact same thing he did. Between him and Batshit Crazy they can convince themselves that I’m a man stealing home wrecker. He can try to sell this idea that I deserved every shitty thing he did to me because I’m a home wrecking whore, not some innocent victim.

It bothers me a little bit. Because I have a conscience! But overall, I’m good. I know the truth. I know that both of us were living separately from our cheating spouses who were living with their affair partners. I know that both of us were already into the divorce process before we met.

Unlike CF and Harley I never posted about me and the mobster on social media. I never talked about our relationship to anyone who knew CF. I was perfectly content for the mobster to be a secret from CF forever. Let him think I was miserable and alone. He found out about it when he hacked my Facebook page. Sadly, short of me refusing to entertain the thought of any contact with another male for the almost 2 1/2 years it took for my divorce to be final, there was nothing I could have done. When we started texting I never planned for it to turn into what it did; I had no intentions of this turning into a relationship. I figured we would text a few times and that would be it. It would be platonic and probably short lived, seeing as how all it was was texting. I suppose that’s what CF thought I deserved- to be alone forever, pining for him and mourning the loss of my old life.

Believe me- I did pine. Never for him because I was done with him after he cheated again. I did mourn the loss of my old life. I mourned what happened to my children. I freaked out over my financial situation, especially considering Mr. Genius didn’t think paying support was a necessity. In the end though I did as Winston Churchill advised: I found myself in Hell and I just kept going. He can’t stand the fact that I didn’t fall apart, that he wasn’t able to destroy me. I think he’s really pissed that I have found someone else and that I’m happy. I think he wanted me to be alone and miserable for the rest of my life. Now that he realizes that’s not going to happen he’s enraged. I’m sure the fact that I won’t keep my mouth shut doesn’t help matters either.

Yes, I’ve poked the bear a bit. You know what? I’m going to keep poking when I feel like it. I’m going to keep posting my happy pictures of me and the mobster. CF and Harley got to do it for two years while I was living a nightmare. They were told constantly how happy they looked and how they deserved it. Happiness looks good on you! Love you both! You deserve happiness. Those were all comments I got to see, made to the two people who were engaged and living together, having demolished my life and the lives of my kids. Now it’s my turn. Suck it, buttercup! If you don’t want to see the happy couple then stay off my Facebook page.

I’m also going to text him next Wednesday if I don’t have a check by then. If he gets shitty with me? He’s going to get a text very similar to this:

Your behavior has caused me to repeatedly have to take legal action in order to get you to do the right thing. I would think what with you being a genius and all that you would be able to foresee the consequences of your poor behavior. 

I realize you don’t see it this way but I have been a dream ex-wife. I didn’t publicly out you or toss you out of the house. I don’t harass you. I don’t contact you. I have left you alone to live out your ultimate fantasy- living with your soul mate/cousin who brings you so much happiness, at one point working side by side with your best friend, and residing in Kentucky near your mommy and your sister so you can see them anytime you want. 

You wanted to pay bi-weekly instead of in a monthly lump sum; I agreed even though I didn’t need to. I have never demanded payment on the due date, or even harangued you for payment. And yet you continue to try to play games. You continue to try to mess with me, and by extension, your children. Very well. I can see that I will once again have to be the adult and put an end to this silliness. When your employer contacts you to let you know that you have a garnishment order against you, remember you brought this upon yourself.

That’s really what this all comes down to, doesn’t it? He’s pissed that he has to pay me sufficient support instead of that $1500/month bullshit he wanted.

So why am I not surprised that you support a disgusting whore and aided her in getting the maximum money possible from me.

Why do I not get the full credit for having made sure he paid the maximum money possible? And, not to pick but I do feel the need to make a point of clarification: I did not get the maximum amount possible. We asked for $4000 in spousal support alone; I got $2800. The judge could have imputed his wages at $236,000; he ignored the bonus and stock options and imputed at $170,000.

She never helped me with anything! Certainly not in obtaining “the maximum money possible”! She didn’t act as a character witness for me. She didn’t feed me incriminating information. She didn’t disown him. She simply remained in my life because she loves my kids.

No, he’s just mad because the judge didn’t buy his bullshit. He’s angry because he and Harley might feel the pinch finally, and the party is over. How dare I let him feel the impact of this divorce? How dare anyone hold him accountable for his shitty decisions and poor choices?

You know the really sad part? He did all of this because he deserved to be happy. In the end I’m the happy one. I had accepted that he might get away with financial rape. I had sadly accepted the fact that my lifestyle has taken a huge hit. As the mobster would ask, “Are we going to be happy?” The answer was a resounding, “Yes!” We’re going to live in that cardboard box and we’re going to beg on the streets and go for coffee later and we’re still going to be happy, because we’re together.

Compare that to CF and Harley. Together they bring home over $11,000 plus whatever she gets for child support. I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility that they have around $12,000/month to call their own. Once he pays me they still have at least $6700 left over (and I’m not counting her child support which she will get for at least another 8 years; I’m also not counting the times he gets paid three times a month). He still bitches and whines. Yes, he has to pay me a very large chunk of his salary. For now.

Why not look at it like this? First of all, he will get a “pay raise” in June and he will have anywhere from $400-$800 more to call his own. Conversely I will have $400-$800 LESS to call my own. In another three years he will be completely finished with child support and will be paying only $2800/month, or $1292.31 every other week. Meanwhile, I’m sure good ol’ Harley will get annual increases in salary. CF will get annual increases in salary, if he doesn’t flat out get another job. Sure, I can get an annual increase as well but seeing as how I make a fifth of what he makes and around a fourth of what she makes, it stands to reason my salary isn’t going to increase as quickly. Regardless, even if everything stayed the same, in a little over three years they would be living on approximately $8400/month while I live on less than $3600/month. Which one of us should be whining about money? I’m pretty sure it should be me but I’m not. He should be doing the happy dance but he’s not.

Second of all, does the genius not realize he can go out and get another job making up to $170,000 and it won’t affect his support at all? He was imputed at that income! If he were willing to move he could easily make anywhere from $1000-$3000 more per month and that would all go in his pocket. Or at least the family coffers.

The fact he made poor financial decisions throughout this entire process is not my problem. I guess he thought he would take it all and I would be left with nothing. Hey, according to him I wasn’t smart enough to figure out where the vast majority of the money was so he should be happy, right?

Joke’s on you, Cousinfucker; I don’t care if you squirreled money away. You’re still a miserable human being who will never be satisfied. You blew up an entire family for your happiness and you’re still unhappy. I’m living a whole different life and living on a whole lot less money but I’m the one who is happy. I’ve got my kids, my family and friends, my mobster, and my freedom. I’m good. No, I’m great. Suck it, you evil bastard.

 

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…

 

Should Have

September 2015

I know this is a fruitless endeavor but I wanted to psychoanalyze my lying, cheating douchebag of an ex.

Here’s what I think.  He always sees himself as a victim. He doesn’t want to do anything difficult.  He is a coward of epic proportions.  That completely explains his behavior with his kids.  He gets to run off every weekend and hang out with kids that think he’s so wonderful because he’s putting on this big act and throwing money at them.  His own kids are pissed off and hate his guts right now.  Talk to Picasso or Rock Star?  They might say something mean to me!  That’s why he leaves shit in the mailbox for Rock Star instead of putting it on the island where he might encounter me and Picasso.  That’s why he didn’t call her back.  That’s why he only communicates with her through texting.  Hell, that’s why he couldn’t grow a pair and tell his fucking mother to stop communicating with his fucking whore when he was supposedly reconciling with me!  Wah- if I talk to her about this then that means I have to face the fact that I did a bad thing.  That makes me feel bad.  I don’t like feeling bad.  Let’s just move on and pretend this never happened.  Dammit, why can’t you just act like nothing happened?  Be friends with my mom and sister!  That makes life so much easier for ME!  That’s why he could never stand up for me and constantly threw me under the bus.  It was so much easier than taking a stand.  Fucking chicken shit!

He looks down on everyone else which is why the only people that really get along with him and think he’s fabulous are those who work under him.  With them he feels superior so he doesn’t have to be a know it all dickhead. He’s never had a boss that he likes; he only likes them once they are no longer his boss.  He thinks he’s always the smartest guy in the room and resents anyone being able to tell him what to do or thinking that they are actually, gasp, his boss!  He is surrounding himself with sycophants who tell him exactly what he wants to hear.  Oh, don’t you worry, honey, you deserve to fuck your cousin.  Your happiness is the only thing that matters.  Your wife was so mean to you.  She didn’t appreciate you.  Leave her!  You deserve so much more.

His whore is a complete downgrade.  She’s a manipulative, deceitful, gold digging whore.  She obviously doesn’t give a shit that she’s tearing apart a family, or that his kids hate him now and he may end up with absolutely no relationship with either of them.  I don’t believe she’s ever actually owned a home and she’s living in a dump right now. She’s been arrested at least 3 times.  She lies. She told Zack her husband had put her into bankruptcy three times because of his spending.  Turns out they declared once, when their business closed, and it’s her and her daughter who spend money like water. I suppose that explains her arrest for writing bad checks.  Seriously?  How many fucking bad checks do you need to write before they send your ass to jail?  She sends naked pictures to her neighbor.  She has cheated on her husband numerous times.  Zack is not her first rodeo.  And probably won’t be her last once she realizes he is not the money tree he is projecting himself to be.   She’s giving him all the ego stroking he desires.  He felt like he could never make me happy and we all know that he just can’t cope when things aren’t going his way.  But here is this gold digging whore and she tells him all the time how wonderful he is and how she loves him.  No, sweetie, she loves your money.  And once that’s gone, she will be, too. In the end I think he is able to feel superior to her.  He’s a knight in shining armor for her.  He comes in and saves the day and the poor little piece of white trash is oh so thankful for her sugar daddy who buys whatever she and her kids wants.  He was never my superior.  Ever.  He may have thought he was a time or two, but in the end he knew he wasn’t.  I was there when he lost his job and witnessed his humiliation.  I was there every time he lost his shit over some minor random crap.  He couldn’t be the big strong man because I already knew who and what he was.  With her he gets a redo.  And if he ends up living in a city three hours from her and only seeing her on the weekends, well that will be perfect because he can probably keep his act up a lot longer.

And what is with this bullshit of instantly falling in love with every fucking female you fuck?  I can understand falling in love with me. I’m awesome.  🙂  He was also single.  I was single.  There were no children involved.  No marriages to destroy.  Nobody got hurt when we got together and threw caution to the wind and married 7 months after meeting.  But this?  I already know that 2 years ago he had decided to leave me, was in love with her, and plotting to move all of us 2000 miles across the country for the dumb bitch after less than 2 weeks of her simply *telling* him how much she wanted to suck his dick.  I guess her trumped up sob stories gave him a stiffie. Now this time he’s gone even further.

I seriously believe he’s lost his damn mind.  Seriously.  How do you go from loving your wife of 20 years to fucking your cousin?  How do you decide almost overnight to start sending her thousands of dollars, sell off the rest of your stock, open up a checking account in her town, and start this new life with her and her kids when you’re still fucking married with 2 kids?  How do you do this when you’re still messing around with your wife twice a day?  I sometimes feel like he just made a preemptive strike.  Well, she’s not happy; I can never make her happy.  I know she’s going to leave me so I’m going to fuck my whore of a cousin and leave her first.

But you know what?  I’m going to be ok.  I’m going to be better than ok.  I should have left the first damn time.  I should have thrown all his damn clothes out the door and told the kids and divorced his lying, cheating ass the first time I discovered his lies.  I should have left when I discovered he was throwing me under the bus to everyone who would listen.  I should have left when I realized that he and the truth had stopped existing on the same plane.  I should have left when he resumed drinking.  I should have left when he refused to continue therapy.  So many bread crumbs that were showing me what was up but I hung in there.  I’m not a quitter!  I’m not going to be a statistic; I don’t want my kids growing up in a broken home.  I will never divorce if it’s up to me!  That’s me.  Loyal until the end.  Persevering even when I should have kicked his ass to the curb.

He won’t be able to keep this up.  His natural setting is misery and unhappiness.  He can keep up the act for a while, 6 months, maybe a year.  But eventually his true personality will come out.  Something will happen that will throw him off balance and once again he’ll be a simpering, whimpering mess.  She’ll find out he’s not much for helping out around the house, or watching kids, or having to help shoulder the load.  As my brother said about his potential move: That works out perfect for him.  He gets to be by himself all week, watching tv and talking to no one and then on the weekends he goes to see her and play the part of happy involved family man.

I think once we go to court and he realizes what he’s going to be paying in spousal support and child support and marital debt division he’s going to have a real awakening.  She might get a taste of the real Zack that very day.  Holy shit!  How am I going to do this?  I have to pay my future ex-wife anywhere between a large amount and an even larger amount per month.  I owe her money for her share of the stock I liquidated without her knowledge and I owe her even more for all the money I either gave to or spent on my whore and her kids.  She’s taking half of my 401k, and at the balance it was before I took out my loan, plus she gets half of my pension.  She’s putting me in charge of paying for the kids’ cell phones and their allowances.  I’ve got my whore’s cell phone and her daughter’s cell phone at $231.  I have a monthly payment for the loan I took out.  I have rent because she won’t let me live there anymore.  I need cable and I have to pay for utilities.

The second lawyer I talked to believes he will be assigned more than half of the marital debt.  He may be looking at a second job.  Good luck!  You still need to buy food, gas, Kodiak and wine. Just getting down to his home state each weekend runs him about $70 at least so $280 conservatively for the month.  He goes through 3-4 cans of Kodiak.  I think it might even be more than that.  …he goes through probably 3 boxes of wine at a minimum; those are $20 a pop so $60 easily on wine.  Per week.  If I am able to get the remainder of the amount of money we still need to pay for the pool and my car loan included in the marital debt he’s fucked! ….

He also doesn’t like being embarrassed.  Watch him go ballistic when his card is declined.  Oh, if that threw him off wait until he realizes everyone he works with knows he’s fucking his cousin.  I’ve been invited several times by his boss to attend church with them.  It would be a shame if I somehow let it slip that we were divorcing because of his affair with his cousin.  Oh, I thought you knew that with all of that time he was taking off.  Yeah, he’s been leaving every weekend to go play house with his cousin and her kids.  He has essentially abandoned his own kids.  He lives here in the house still because he refuses to move out but he hasn’t spoken face to face with his daughter since August and he’s had one conversation with his son where he was basically trying to defend his affair with his cousin.  Not to mention I have a friend who is very close to one of his co-workers and his wife.  She’s responsible for getting them together.  I wouldn’t be surprised if one day it just slips out inadvertently.  Ooops, sorry, I figured you knew!  Our pool contractor works with Zack’s boss’s best friend.  Oops, sorry, I thought you knew.  It’s a small town.  Zack may be popular with the people on the floor but I’m pretty sure that most everyone in the office thinks he’s a pompous ass.  Once they realize he’s fucking his cousin… or rather, once he realizes they know he’s cheating on his wife after moving his entire family across the country and fucking his cousin he will be mortified.  He whined and cried and begged me not to tell the kids the last time?  Oh, that’s nothing compared to when everyone realizes the great Zack X is fucking his whore of a cousin.

Why Isn’t He Happy???

January 2015

I keep meaning to write and then I get busy, or I get tired. Usually it’s tired. And I wanted to do this on a computer instead of my phone or tablet. I was going to write about how much better I’m doing. How I don’t go to the infidelity blogs that I follow as often. How I’m tired of thinking about it and can more easily just tell myself, “I’m not going to think about that now.” I think the hurt and betrayal becomes such a big part of your life it’s not easy to lay it aside. But, I’m not going to write about that today. Instead I’m going to write about my feelings of frustration.

Zack had another bad day recently and it really threw me for a loop. I’m so tired of this. I know I should be more supportive. I know he can’t help it. I even know he’s taking steps to get better. But every time I think about everything that I have lost due to this move it enrages me. THIS was supposed to be what made everything better. Stupid thinking, I know. But he insisted he was miserable in our former state and would have broken down if he had to stay there much longer. Now we’re here and if anything he’s worse. I’ve lost my friends, my support system, my social activities. I have no more PTA, no more Bunko, no more gym trips, no more actual gymnastics, no more hockey. My daughter competes alone out here so it’s not like I’m going to make friends with the other parents. They are all very nice but I don’t hang around them. And, when you get right down to it I don’t even have a husband out here because he’s too busy burrowing in his bedroom, watching TV all evening. Why are we here? Oh, it’s not just because he was miserable in our former state. It’s because after a fucking week of his whore promising him blow jobs and a brand new shiny life with her, letting him know she could “envision a future” with him, he started talking up the Whoreville plant to those around him who could make it happen, letting them know he wanted it when it became available. I live here, away from my friends, because of my husband and his whore. My family is still 10 hours away. I don’t really see them any more often than I did when I lived 23 hours away. Spending the holidays with them was nice but it doesn’t make up for the other 363 days of the year that are miserable. I had high hopes my family was moving out here but those hopes were dashed. That sent me into a tailspin. I’m sure I will recover.

I have had a busy day today. I had a dentist appointment at 8:30, went to pick up my cat after the appointment, met Zack for lunch after I picked up the cat, and then dropped off my car to have the fuel door fixed. Later this evening I’ll be heading to school for a gymnastics meet where I’ll be helping at the score table. Oh, and I keep busy decorating. Every month there is a new theme. Keeps me busy! BAER

I want to like it here. I want to get involved and feel like I fit in, but I don’t know how. You’d think it would be easy after all the moving we’ve done but every time we move I have to start all over. We hated State #2 the first time we lived there and kept mainly to ourselves. We moved to State #3 and we began hanging out with people he worked with. We had a fantastic network of friends. I fondly remember going out to eat with 8-10 people, easily! Then we moved back to State #2 and we never hung out with his co-workers. I found an online group of moms from my area and had playdates once a week with them for a while, until one moved, one dropped out, one went back to work, and one returned to school. I got involved in church- I worked in the nursery and then worked my way up to the older grades as my kids aged. I joined the meal team. I led a small group. I started a MOPS group. Before I started a MOPS group I got involved in one close to my house. Joined the hospitality team. I volunteered at my daughter’s school. And I drove her to gymnastics and Bible Club and Bible School in the summer. When we moved to State #4 I couldn’t find a MOPS group. I never found a church where I could feel at home and really get involved. So I looked to PTA, and I got very involved. I did Teacher Appreciation the entire time I was part of PTA. I was the elementary school president for 4 years. I did the president thing at the middle school. I was the council president. I moved up the following year to be the region secretary. I made friends with all the other moms on my daughter’s gymnastics team. I started playing Bunko and then started up my own group. I drove my son to hockey and became a hockey mom. Now we’ve moved again. We don’t hang around Zack’s co-workers, the PTA is a joke out here, my kids have aged out of MOPS years ago, hockey doesn’t exist out here and gymnastics is a joke. And church? Well, let’s just say I’ve been struggling with my faith for a while and I’m not sure I want to put myself out there yet again. I’m tired of starting over. I’m 45 years old and my life has been completely dismantled. I don’t even have a husband I can lean on because he’s dealing with his own issues. So I’m all alone. Thank you once again Zack and Harley for your thoughtlessness and selfishness! I’m so excited to be able to live out your dreams.

Present Day Sam Says: Why wasn’t he happy? Because he’s never happy! Because moving was never about his dream job; it was always about getting closer to Harley. Maybe they weren’t still in contact when we moved; maybe they were. The fact remains we moved because they put the move into motion during their first affair.

Sam’s Epic Christmas Meltdown

 

December 2014

Oh you sonofabitch and fucking bitch! I had the “privilege” of reading my husband’s text to his sister. She started off by wishing him a Merry Christmas, I believe, and mentioning that she had heard we’d be down there but they’d be in Florida. Shocker. Then she goes on to tell him she sent me a friend request but I declined it “so I’m done reaching out now.” Really, you fucking bitch? WHAT exactly have you done to “reach out” besides sending me a self serving friend request a year and a half after you FUCKING ENCOURAGED MY HUSBAND TO LEAVE ME FOR HIS WHORE???? I would really love to know. Was it when I told you you should call your brother the night I was refusing to come home when I found out he planned on marrying the whore and you said you were sorry for your part in all of this? Or when you would patronize me with your “I understand,” comments whenever I would voice my hurt at what was done? That’s some stellar reaching out.

Then my asshole of a husband goes on to APOLOGIZE for ruining her relationship with me. Tells her it’s all his fault and, oh, how I love this part, he never should have tried to be happy. Thanks, honey! So glad to hear I’m your penance. Tells her he’s heavily medicated and she’s been a wonderful sister and so supportive.

The best part? She still hasn’t answered him back. Yes, let’s kiss her ass, throw me under the fucking bus, and after bitching about how self centered she is and how she’s never there for him tell her she’s just the best thing ever and it’s all my fault!

Sonofabitch! I’m seriously thinking of leaving his ass once again. Hey, Harley Buttwipe Whoreface, your soul mate may be on the market! That’s probably not nearly as intoxicating as stealing another woman’s husband but a soul mate is a soul mate, right?

I’m so fucking tempted to text his bitch of a sister and tell her I’m giving her the best Christmas gift ever- a divorce! Now you can call your brother’s whore and tell her he’s available and get the two of them together. Then you can have your fantastic family get togethers with your “new sister!” and everyone can rejoice that they got rid of me, the horrible evil wife.

FUCK YOU BOTH!

Present Day Sam Says: I freely admit that this was not a nice entry.  I was pissed!  However, I’m not sure it really rises to “cheat on your wife” upsetting.

Here’s the best part though. Blockhead was feeding him information. He was telling him what I had written. I can see in black and white the word “divorce” and the phrase, “I’m seriously thinking of leaving his ass once again.” My question is, did Blockhead see any of the words preceding that? I’m painted as the bitch because I’m legitimately upset and yet the whole, “Throw Sam under the bus” bullshit is completely ignored.

It’s like me being extremely hurt by the fact Jezebel is acting like she is the poor put upon victim means nothing. Let’s gloss over that and concentrate on Sam being angry. Let’s ignore the part where Sam writes about her husband telling his sister he never should have tried to be happy. None of that should matter. The only pertinent parts of this entry are the ones where Sam is going off the rails. How can you not see the pain and insecurity in that post?

The answer is easy. He was never my friend and he was actively campaigning against me.

In the end it doesn’t matter. They all got what they wanted. I’m gone. Harley’s in my place. They’re all happy.

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?