Another Word On Being Hurt

I wrote not that long ago about being hurt. More specifically I wrote about how I didn’t classify myself as being hurt. I was shell shocked and I was pissed off, and when DDay #2 came along I simply lost every bit of feeling I had ever had for the man.

I’ve been re-reading some posts though and I make reference to being hurt. I’ve also had some conversations with the mobster about this topic and he feels it’s a matter of semantics so I wanted to clarify.

When I think of someone who is hurt by an affair I think of someone who believes they have lost the love of their life. I think of someone who is devastated by that person no longer being in their life. I think of the person who says, “I can’t imagine living my life without him/her.”

I didn’t feel that way about CF. I didn’t believe in soul mates or the love of your life. I was much more practical. I took to heart the idea that with 8 billion people on this planet that chances were very good that there wasn’t only one person out there for me. I’ve always said my relationship with him felt comfortable, easy. I believed marriage was about commitment, not butterflies and excitement. He was never Mr. Romantic. He never attempted to sweep me off my feet. So when DDay #2 happened I wasn’t thinking, “Oh my God, how will I ever live without him? He’s my sun and my moon and my stars!”

I was thinking, “How are we going to sell this house and get anything close to what we paid for it?” I was thinking, “I just renewed my license plates for three years; I just switched phone companies and have a two year contact.” I was shaking my head in disbelief and saying, “I can’t believe we just paid $57,000 to put a pool in and he pulls this shit!” I was asking myself, “What the hell happens next? What’s going to happen to the kids? Are we going to be able to stay here so Rock Star can graduate?”

While I didn’t lose the love of my life I did lose my lifestyle. I no longer had the money I had before. I could no longer buy my son the newest video gaming system just because, or drop a couple hundred dollars on clothes for my daughter. I couldn’t buy her the expensive make-up she liked. She would no longer be receiving a car on her 16th birthday. I suddenly had to budget. There would be no more big bonus check each January. We wouldn’t be flying back to Utah regularly anymore. I had to figure out how to get insurance because he would no longer be covering me. Breaks from school no longer meant going out and seeing the sights, because that cost money and I no longer had it to spend as I liked. Eventually it meant losing my home, leaving behind my long sought after pool, losing almost everything I had ever owned, and moving out of the state. It meant going back to work and not getting paid very much for my efforts. It meant no longer seeing much of my kids and being forced to lean on others to get things done for them.

Before I ever had DDay #2 I lost my life. I lost the life I enjoyed; I was so lonely. I remember thinking I had everything I had ever wanted and no one to share it with.

I lost my identity when we moved. PTA had played a huge part in my life back in Utah. I was a gymnast’s mom. I was a hockey mom. I had many friends and even more acquaintances. I went to lunch and I played Bunko and I spent hours talking to my friends. I spent even more hours driving my kids to and from practices, meets, and games. I did my best to learn to love living where I did. I was slowly getting involved, gaining traction. I was learning to see all the good things about living where we did. And then he trashed it all. Whoosh! Like a puff of smoke it all evaporated.

I guess some could argue that that is indeed hurt. I prefer to call it mourning. I mourn the lifestyle I used to have. I miss not worrying about money. I miss not being able to do whatever, whenever. I miss my damn pool! I mourn the life I had before I moved. I miss my friends. I miss lunch dates and talking while my son is at hockey practice and chatting in the parking lot at the gym. But I don’t miss him. I don’t feel that I’ve lost some great love.

I mourn everything my kids have lost, and I am so sorry that I can’t provide for them like their dad could. I’ll work for the next 20 years and I won’t come close to making what their dad makes.

I mourn and I am righteously angry at everything my kids have been denied thanks to their father’s choices. I am not sure I will ever get over what happened to my daughter. Her life in high school began fantastically, and it devolved into her feeling like she was no one. She should have been excited about her senior year and if we had stayed there she would have. I know this. I have no doubt that she would have remained the belle of the ball. She would have had great friends, she would have been active in school sports, and my house would have been filled with teenagers coming over, shooting the breeze with me, and spending the night. She would have received a much better education as well. She was happy there and I don’t think she’s ever truly been happy here.

Picasso is a little trickier because he didn’t embrace life in Virginia like she did. It took him a bit longer but eventually he had a solid group of friends. He had friends in the neighborhood that were over almost every day. But he likes his room here. He loves living with his Nana who makes sure he always has dinner, and bakes brownies sometimes, and washes and folds his laundry. On the other hand, now that he’s out of middle school it seems he is once again friendless. His friends are all boys he once knew in Virginia and they use their headsets to communicate with each other as they play Xbox together. Back in Virginia he was coming into his own. He was going to join marching band and his sister’s popularity would have helped him ease into high school.

Some have suggested that perhaps the anger covers up the hurt. Maybe. All I know is I feel a tremendous sadness, a huge loss, when I think about everything my kids have been through and all that they have given up and lost. I don’t think to myself, “Losing him feels like losing an arm, a leg, an actual piece of me.” Instead I think, “How in the hell could he do this to his kids?” Maybe I do actually hurt for them. I know how it was supposed to be and this was never it.

I definitely get pissed off even to this day when I think about everything that sonofabitch got away with. I am angry about the lies and being duped and humiliated.

In the beginning, way back in 2013 when I first found out about Harley, once the numbness faded I was sad. I remember being filled with regret that I had let it get to this point. I didn’t want to fail. I didn’t want to get divorced. I didn’t want to be tossed aside for someone else.

I guess maybe I could say pride kept me going. I didn’t want to be replaced. I didn’t want to lose. I didn’t want to be rejected.

I still don’t recall thinking, “Oh no! If I lose him I’ll never love again.” I didn’t think no one would ever love me like he had.

Even after DDay #2 I don’t remember thinking, “Oh my God, she’s got my man! He has rejected me and loves her now and he’s doing all those wonderful things for her that he used to do for me. I’m so jealous!”

Quite honestly, I wasn’t thinking about sex or relationships at all when DDay #2 came around. I was much more focused on how the hell we were going to sell the house we had lived in for only a year, how we were going to pay off the pool we had just put in, what we would do with all the brand new furniture we had just bought, how the hell I was going to find a job and be able to support my kids and myself. Him running off to fuck his cousin didn’t bother me nearly as much as having my house foreclosed on did.

No, my thoughts were more along the lines of, “She’s got my life now.” Not “my man”, but my life. Now she was the one who had no worries. Her kids were the ones being given everything. She was the one who got to take trips and go places. Her house was decorated at Christmas.

I was content to be by myself. I had spent the majority of my marriage by myself. At least when he left I was supposed to be on my own. Yes, the list of his shitty antics never stopped. Yes, the thought that he was with someone and I was alone was infuriating. Overall, though, I think it was so much nicer not having to put up with his constant crying and pretend PTSD. After our first holiday season back without their dad both kids said it had been the best Christmas in a long time because he wasn’t there to ruin it. I cooked chicken when I wanted. I put mushrooms in my spaghetti sauce. I didn’t have to wash his clothes or put them away anymore. I no longer watched or listened to ESPN or the History Channel.

I didn’t worry about finding someone else because I was okay being on my own. I figured I would never meet anybody who would be interested in me so I may as well figure out how to live a full life without a partner.

I guess that’s why I maintain he didn’t hurt me. Like I said, I was shell shocked when I found out about her the first time. I was sad when I thought he didn’t love me anymore (let’s face it- he didn’t; he simply wasn’t ready to go), mainly because I didn’t want to lose my life as I knew it and I didn’t want to be seen as a failure. I was furious when I found out they had been carrying on all summer and he had been playing me for a fool. Throughout “wreckonciliation” there were times I was hurt by his family. Oh, definitely when I saw Tammy Faye tell Harley she was “soooooooo pretty” even after she knew about CF and her. I seriously lost my shit when that happened. Finally, when I found out the truth on August 10th everything just died. Through all of it though I never once thought, “I can’t go on if I don’t have him,” and to me, that is what I think of when I think of someone being hurt by betrayal. It’s that sense that you just can’t go on without that person.

There were months where I wanted to die because life was so bleak, but it was never about missing him. It was about the hell my life had become thanks to him.

I suppose that if you look at “hurt” as doing damage to someone then yes, he hurt me. He definitely damaged my life. He took pretty much everything from me and that was a definite loss. I think he was doing his damnedest to destroy me. If you look at hurt the way I’m describing it though, as being heartbroken, well then no, he didn’t hurt me.

Of all the things I lost when this happened, losing him was the easiest part.


Another Year Gone By

June 10th came and went yet again. It happens like clockwork, once a year.

It’s a funny day for me, June 10th. It used to be nothing special. Just an ordinary day. And then the year 2016 hit. June 10th became probably the worst day of my life. Even worse than DDay #1 and DDay #2. I can still picture myself in my car; I can still picture the road I was on. I received a text that would change the course of my life and the lives of my children.

I lost my job today. I won’t be sending you anymore money.

That was it. That was all the explanation needed in his opinion. He had upended our lives as we knew them but those two sentences had it covered.

With that he checked himself into an alcohol treatment program at the VA for three days, a fact I wouldn’t discover for another 6 months. I was only the discarded wife. I didn’t need to know what was going on. Harley, the fiancee, had it all covered. She was the important one. She was entitled to all the facts. I got conjecture. And stomach ulcers!

To this day I remember the awful feeling, knowing I needed to keep it together because Rock Star’s friend who had flown in from Utah for her birthday was still here and I didn’t want to ruin her visit. Rock Star was going away to camp for a week as well only a day or two after I got the news and I didn’t want to mar her experience. I remember her friends coming over and talking about how they had heard she was amazing at gymnastics and they really wanted to go to a few meets next year to watch her, and me knowing that she probably wouldn’t be here much longer. I remember emailing my lawyer, and her first emailing me back immediately, and then calling me. I remember getting the email from his attorney telling my attorney that he didn’t know how long he would be out of work and that he was attempting to qualify for disability. I knew then he wasn’t planning on going back to work any time soon.

After that, I remember breaking the news to Picasso, who took it pretty well. And I remember Rock Star coming home from camp, happy and excited to tell me all about her experiences, and me changing her life in an instant. I remember her crying and telling me, “I don’t want new friends! I want to stay here!”

I remember going through my house and deciding what I would take with me and what all I was going to try to sell. I remember days spent out in the sweltering heat having a garage sale to pad my bank account because I was living on savings at that point. And I remember packing up my few belongings and loading them up in a UHaul and driving 600 miles away from my home, leaving most of what I had ever owned behind.

It was tough for a very long time after that. The world was dark and gray. I felt no joy. I was resigned to my fate and waiting for death.

Finally, about 10 months later I began to feel better. The world began to look a little brighter. I had a tiny bit of hope. I could imagine a future. And then a mobster fell out of a tree onto my head and I’ve done my best not to look back.

June 10, 2017 was a Saturday and it was part of that first weekend I met the mobster in person. I wrote a post about it. We went up to Lake Michigan; I spent a lot of time sharing pictures of my family and friends with him. We had a delightful time; it was a much better day last year than in 2016.

This year June 10th was our one year anniversary of meeting and it was spent in Utah together with my kids. We flew in for a wedding and I happily showed my mobster off to my closest friends.

It is my hope that we will spend every June 10th together, although that may be a little more difficult next year when it falls on a Monday. Come hell or high water I will take that damn day back. I will never forget what happened that day in 2016 but I’m going to make sure that every June 10th from here on out is a marvelous day for me. Suck it, cheater!

My Mobster

Can I just tell everyone what a difference having someone like him in my life makes? It makes me a little sad, honestly, that I settled for so little for so many years. My biggest regret is that I met him when I was 48 instead of 18 or 25 or some other random number that would have given me many more years with him.

He texts me every morning. Good morning, beautiful. Hello, gorgeous. We still talk all the time. He’s usually the last person I talk to before I go to bed. I tell him every mundane thing that is going on in my life.

He drove 10.5 hours up to see me 2 weeks after “meeting” me. He’s made that trip 3 times now.

He sends me song lyrics that remind him of me or us. He even created a private Pinterest board for the two of us. We always joke that we are the exact same person. Seems only fair since our exes are the exact same person as well!

He thinks I’m funny and laughs at my jokes. We’ll be talking late into the night and all of sudden he’ll say, “Holy crap! When did it become 12:30?” and I’ll reply, “About a minute ago.” And then we both laugh and laugh. I’ve heard through the grapevine that we are exactly alike. We laugh at the same jokes, we have the same sense of humor. We think about the same weird things. It’s wonderful.

Towards the end of September I made the impulsive decision to go visit him at his place. I hadn’t seen him since Labor Day weekend and I missed him like crazy. Originally all of his kids were going to be gone- his two boys would be watching three MLB games in another state and his daughter was going to the beach with one of her friends. There was a small hiccup in the plans and his daughter ended up not going to the beach but I went ahead and headed on down to his place.

One night as we were talking he rustled some papers and asked me if I knew what they were. Of course I didn’t. He told me I would soon find out.

As I pull into his driveway at 4 am this is what I saw…



As I walked up to his house I saw this…

And as the weekend progressed I found out he had printed out my list of 100 things I love and had bought as many of them as he could. That was what those rustling papers were. There was chips & salsa, Moscato, diet Coke, dill pickles, vanilla chai, Earl Grey tea, and cheesecake for starters. He told me he was hoping that it would rain because the smell in the air after it rained in the Blue Ridge mountains was one of the things I loved. I told him I had no doubt that if he had the ability to make it rain that he would.

I was absolutely amazed. I can’t recall anyone ever doing anything like that for me before. I appreciated it so much.

We had a great weekend. Saturday evening we went out to eat with his youngest. I was telling some really bad jokes (you can find most of them here) and she was laughing. We were both ribbing him about ordering coffee at the restaurant. He told me later he loved that. He thought he’d never experience that again and he loved the way we interacted with each other. Sunday morning before going to breakfast we took the dogs for a walk. He showed me around town and we were out walking for probably an hour. I left them with taco dip and scotcheroos, which they loved.

It was a very short visit- only about 36 hours, but it was definitely worth it. I had to get my mobster fix!

I’m telling you a good man makes all the difference in the world. I think he’s a keeper. No, I know he’s a keeper.

I’ve wondered many times if I could give him what he wants. I know he’d love to get married. He wants to live with me. And yet I am constrained by spousal support. I feel bad that I can’t move ahead like he’d like because I need whatever spousal support is coming my way. I have to think about my kids and what they’re going to need. He’s said many times he knew what he was getting into when he got involved with me. He says he knows it may be 20 years before we can make anything official. He’s said on more than one occasion that it’s okay if we never legally marry. Or if we do marry he’s willing to do a prenup so that I’m protected.

He’s put up with my crazy. He’s been sympathetic to my skittish behavior. He understands and he lets me be me. If I’m upset or I’m angry he doesn’t take it as a personal insult.

He is making plans to move up here in June of 2019.

Why didn’t I meet and marry this guy the first time around? Would we have appreciated each other as much as we do if we hadn’t endured what we did? I’d like to think we are who we are, not because of the horror that was foisted upon us, but because we are good people. I’d like to think that if we had met up many years ago it would have still been magical and wonderful. Regardless, I’m glad he’s in my life now, even if it is only sporadically. We are the sane parents after all.

I trust this guy. I know; I know. I trusted CF, too. This is different. I had no reason to trust CF. I guess maybe hearing his friend tell me he would never cheat, or listening to Tammy Faye tell me all he wanted was a family, or looking at his golden pedigree and his West Point credentials made me think I could trust him. None of it meant squat. He lied. He cheated. He stole. He abandoned his kids.

The mobster has been through this. From his own lips and his own writings I have heard the horror that was his marriage in the last few years. I’ve heard and read about the lies, the despair, all the tears, the pain he was put through. I also heard and read about how he hung in there, trying to make it work, convinced that they could make their marriage work if he just tried hard enough, if he could just change enough to make her happy. He did his best to ensure his kids grew up in an intact home.

He and his wife went on a blind date and basically never left each other’s side. He did consider calling it quits but she got pregnant and they married. CF and I met through the personals, got engaged 6 days later and got married 7 months later. By all accounts neither of those relationships should have lasted. And yet they did. For 25 and 21 years. The mobster has said on more than one occasion that our marriages would have continued to last if our spouses had been willing. We didn’t leave. We didn’t quit. He has been known to say, “Why in the hell didn’t I leave 12 years ago?”

Make no mistake though. He will freely admit that there were things he could have done better, or that at least there were better ways to handle the situation. He talks about his own bad behavior in retaliation to the things she did and he admits his own faults. He has told me the good, the bad, and the ugly.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I feel like I have reasons to believe him. Not just the above paragraph but also the willingness to meet me where I am. The willingness to forego ever getting married again even though he really would love to. He doesn’t quit. I’ve heard about all that he did to try to make his marriage work and I have no reason to believe that if he worked that hard to preserve a relationship with someone who treated him so badly that he wouldn’t work equally as hard, if not more so, at a relationship with someone who adores him.

You know what? Add that to the list. When I am going to write a post about something in his life I will run it past him. I never want to put stuff out there that he doesn’t want shared. You know what he always tells me? He always says I can write whatever I want. He tells me it’s my blog and I don’t need his permission, even when I’m writing about him or things going on in his life.

I look back on some of my earlier entries where I was convinced I would be alone forever. I really did believe that. And my mindset hasn’t changed all that much. This guy came from out of nowhere and swept me off my feet. If it all ends tomorrow I don’t see myself getting involved with anyone again. I wasn’t looking this time and I don’t intend to look if he should ever leave me. I’m okay being alone. I really am. The mobster brings me out of my shell. He ticks off pretty much every box on my list for the ultimate man. I can’t think of one criteria he doesn’t meet. I’m glad I have someone to spend my time with. I’m glad I have a real partner.

Here’s one final story for you. When I was steeling myself for the worst case scenario in my support trial the mobster would ask me, “Sam, are we going to be happy?” I’m being my petulant self and grudgingly replying, “Yes, we’ll be happy but I’m still going to be pissed!” He goes off on this tangent about how we will be happy no matter what, even if we’re begging on the streets.

We’ll be out on the streets with our little tin cups. And once they’re filled I’ll run and get us coffee. Do you hear that? I’ll go get us coffee because I love you. When I come back you’ll be waiting for me in our cardboard box, and it will be the best cardboard box out there. And we will be happy with our coffee in our cardboard box.

There was more to the story. Apparently, that was our second home because I had burned the first one down. Sounds about right. Anyway, I was laughing so hard I really did feel better about everything. That man makes me laugh. Like, really laugh. He makes me insanely happy.

Thank you, Mobster; thank you for being you. Thank you for being there for me, even when I’ve been crazy, even when I’ve hurt you, even when I’ve been a pouting little brat. Thank you for making me laugh. Thank you for making me smile again. Thank you for waking me up and thank you for believing in me. You have given me things I didn’t even know I wanted. I love you. 4evah!

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…


That Time He Whined About Not Being Appreciated Even After We Agreed to Move Across the Country For Him

February 2014

I’m proud of myself. I could have hit below the belt. I could have just choked back my emotions but I didn’t. He was complaining yesterday that he felt like all he was was a bank. Complained the kids didn’t say hi after he had returned. Complained I wasn’t more appreciative of his bonus check. I could have easily replied, “I’m sure Harley would have been more appreciative. I’m sure she would have said and done the exact right thing, unlike me. Maybe you should call her so she can stroke your ego. Hell, maybe you should give me her number so she can advise me on how best to appreciate you since she obviously knows you so much better and would be a much better wife.” But I didn’t. I figured that would be hitting below the belt and it wouldn’t be fair to throw that in his face every time we fought. Very mature of me, right? And I followed up my non response with a very thoughtful response letting him know that despite all of us being perfectly happy here we were moving across the country for HIM because HE is miserable here. And he actually thanked me for pointing that out, said he hasn’t thought of it that way. So score for me!

The Whore & Her Meaningful Life

Blast From the Past 12

January 2014

I have a stalking problem. I can admit it. I’m not ashamed. I figure she intruded into my life in the most intimate of ways so if I decide I’m going to keep an eye on the whore I don’t feel badly about it. I do find it amusing that she likes this online “magazine” for lack of better term, called Elephant. It’s tag line is: Dedicated to a meaningful life. I may have forgotten a word or two. Meaningful life, huh? Wouldn’t a meaningful life exclude making marriage plans with another woman’s husband? Wouldn’t a meaningful life exclude ripping apart two kids’ lives, no, six kids’ lives, because of your selfishness and allusions of grandeur? I find it fascinating that she seems to think she is this enlightened being when reality is she’s nothing more than a whore. Oh sure, I’m positive there are people out there who like her, love her even. Hell, Ted Bundy was quite the charmer when he wasn’t luring women into his car to rape and murder them. Come to think of it, he was pretty charming even then. That’s how he lured them. But, for the people he didn’t kill I hear they really liked him. He had a magnetic personality.

My advice, if you truly want enlightenment? Don’t fuck around with married men. Don’t think that you’re so special that wrecking two families for your own selfish fantasies will be ok and everyone will understand because you’re in loooooove.

Why I Stayed The First Time

I was always one of those people that believed cheating was a deal breaker.  You cheat on me I’m done with you.  No explanations needed.  No excuses accepted.  I used to have a ball with that song by .38 Special- Second Chance.  It would come on the radio and I would exclaim, “I love this song!” and my best friend would look at me and say, “No, you don’t; you yell at it every time it comes on!”  That was true.  I did yell at it.  Well, honestly, it was more like I mocked the lead singer and his pitiful excuses for cheating on his beloved.  Alright, I really did yell a lot whenever this song came on.  I was so disgusted with it.  He cheated on his girlfriend and now he wants a do-over.  Incredible!  My younger self was having none of it.

Then I got married.  I had kids.  I got older.  I started reading a debate board.  One of the topics that came up quite frequently was infidelity.  Some of the people on that board talked about how infidelity wasn’t necessarily a deal breaker for them.  They would have to put that one indiscretion up against the totality of their entire relationship, some said.  Why throw away many good years for one mistake, they asked.

It all sounded so enlightened.  Oh yes, don’t throw away everything you’ve worked on because of one little mistake!  It’s just sex, right?

Excuse me while I puke.

I’m back.  Fast forward to 2013 when I found out my dearly beloved was sexting with Harley.  Oh, I didn’t know for certain that was what he was doing in the beginning.  Remember, I still believed I was married to a man who was honorable, loyal, and faithful.  I was still wearing those blinders and told myself he probably was feeling so guilty because he had begun to confide in her and he realized that he was going down the wrong path.  I immediately snapped to attention, took blame for my own actions which might have led him to stray, and then forgave without another thought.  Until things didn’t add up.  She was blocking me.  He wouldn’t answer questions.  He was threatening me with divorce if I didn’t let it go and agree to return to the “old way” of doing things.  Even then I didn’t realize he was still messing around with her.  I just began to realize that he had possibly done more than simply “confide” in her.  And then when The Saint contacted me, asking me if I had a good divorce attorney, I found my voice; I made my demands.  But still I stayed.  I wasn’t going to let one little mistake wash away the years we had together.  I was going to measure his indiscretion against our past.  Naturally, our marriage was worth fighting for; I wasn’t going to carelessly toss it away because of one little mistake.  No, I was enlightened now.  I was like those other women who realized something like adultery was no reason to trash your precious marriage.  I took to the heart the idea that an affair was not the disease; it was merely a symptom that something was wrong in the marriage.  I accepted that I played a part in his desire to seek out another woman (or whore as the case may be).  Tell me what I can do and we can fix this together and we’ll be stronger than ever!

Excuse me while I go puke again.

Oh that one took a little longer.  Here’s the thing, though.  Adultery isn’t one little mistake.  It’s not even simply a mistake.  It’s a series of bad choices.  Anything other than a one time one night stand requires countless lies.  By that I don’t mean that a ONS is no big deal.  I also don’t mean to imply there is no deceit surrounding it.  Of course if your spouse wants to cover his or her tracks there is going to be deception.  But a longer affair involves many lies and much deceit.  It’s not a one time thing.  It’s not a moment of weakness.  It’s not one bad decision.

I think the worst part of all of this has been all the lies.  It’s the realization that my husband could look me in the eye and tell me he is sending money to his mother every week to help her out with groceries to feed his niece and her boyfriend while in reality he’s sending money to his whore.  It’s me innocently asking why on earth he doesn’t just send a check and save on all those wire transfer fees and knowing the entire time he’s laughing at me and my naiveté; he is fucking me over and I don’t have a clue.  It’s him setting up the whole situation of him buying the whore and her kid new iPhones and paying their cell phone bill by telling me he’s doing it for his mom and stepdad.  I’ll never forget him nonchalantly mentioning that he was thinking about doing that for her as a birthday gift.  I blindly accepted it.  When the notification came in from the phone carrier that he had been approved I asked him if he had indeed gone ahead and got phones for his mom and Pastor Fake.  “Yes, I did,” was the response.  It was me questioning why on earth there was a charge on his bank card in Whore Town and him downplaying it as nothing; he had given his mom his card number and she hadn’t been in Whore Town.  Must have been a mix up.  He didn’t know why it said Whore Town.  Or when I saw yet another charge to the same store in Whore Town a few weeks later and me asking him if he bought his mom groceries.  “I always do,” he told me.  Yes, you always fuck a whore behind my back and lie to me when you’re down there, you sonofabitch.  Lies, lies, and more damn lies.  Not a single mistake was made.  No, many many deliberate deceitful choices were made to keep me in the dark and gaslight me.  How do you stack that up against your past history as a couple?  At that point he had pretty much thrown dynamite on our history.  Not that it mattered, of course, because he was going to get out.  He was going to leave me; he just needed to get everything into place so that I would be completely helpless and dependent on his good will.  Sucks to be you, Cousinfucker.

While I would love to blame all of this on that debate board I won’t.  I think the people over there made me think about infidelity in ways I wouldn’t have normally.  I definitely think it made it more likely I would think before I kicked him to the curb.  But honestly, we had been married for 18 years at that point.  I had been a stay at home wife and mom for most of that time.  I had 2 young kids, or at least younger- 11 and 13.  I was 1500 miles away from my family and had no idea how I was going to support myself, much less two kids.  I didn’t see much of a future for myself without him.  I had sacrificed for him to build his career.  I wasn’t willing to leave it all behind, especially if it was “only” texting/sexting.  And even more honestly, once I found out in August about his summer of deceit I was pissed!  I wasn’t going down without a fight.  I wasn’t going to willingly hand my life over to some crazy slut who would reap the benefits of all my cross country moves.

So I stayed.  In hindsight it was the worst choice I could have made; I should have kicked his ass out right then and there.  It’s right next to agreeing to move to our current state, as far as huge mistakes go. Those, my friends, are mistakes.  Huge, colossal mistakes!  Cheating is not a mistake.  It is a deliberate decision.

And now, for your pleasure, .38 Special’s, Second Chance, and my own personal rants that accompany the song.

Since you been gone

I feel my life slipping away

Maybe you should have thought about that before you cheated on me!

I look to the sky

And everything is turnin’ grey

Good!  I hope you burn in hell, motherfucker!

All I made was one mistake

Seriously?  You call having sex with someone else a mistake?

How much more will I have to pay

Forever.  You will pay forever.

Why can’t you think it over

I have and I have decided you’re an asshole.

Why can’t you forget about the past

Because you cheated on me, asshole!

When love makes this sound baby

A heart needs a second chance

Too bad, so sad.

Don’t put me down babe

Can’t you see I love you

Don’t care.

Since you’ve been gone I’ve been in a trance

Good.  I hope you die.

This heart needs a second chance

Don’t say it’s over I just can’t say goodbye

Again, you should have thought about that before cheating on me.

So this is love

Standing in the pouring rain

I fooled on you

But she never meant a thing

Great!  So you tossed me aside for nothing!  Wonderful!

And I know I ain’t got no right

To ask you to sympathize

I don’t.

But why can’t you think it over

I did and I decided you’re not worth it.

Why can’t you forget about the past

Why couldn’t you keep your dick in your pants?

When love makes this sound baby

A heart needs a second chance

No it doesn’t.

Don’t put me down baby

Can’t you see I love you

Then why did you fuck her?

Since you been gone I’ve been in a trance

I hope you die.  If you don’t die I hope you’re miserable forever.

This heart needs a second chance

Don’t say it’s over I just can’t say goodbye

I never loved her

I never needed her

Seems you made a really bad trade, then.

She was willing and that’s all there is to say

Nice to know you’ll stomp all over “our love” for some willing whore.

Don’t forsake me

Please don’t leave me now

Get the fuck away from me!

A heart needs a second chance

Yeahhhhhh you’ve been gone and I’ve been in a trance

Burn in hell, cheater!

This heart needs a second chance

I need a man who won’t cheat.

Don’t say it’s over I just can’t say goodbye

I can.  Goodbye.

Please forgive me and forget it

Not a chance.

I was wrong and I admit it

Yes you were.

Why can’t we talk it over

Why can’t we forget about, forget about the past

Never.  Not in a million years.  

You should have thought about all of that before your fucked her.

(A heart needs a second chance)

When love makes this sound baby

(A heart needs a second chance)

Don’t put me down babe

You’ve been gone I’ve been in a trance

Maybe you’ll get hit by a car.

This heart needs a second chance

Don’t say it’s over I just can’t say goodbye

Will it help if I tell you I hate you?

(A heart needs a second chance)

When love makes this sound babe

(A heart needs a second chance)

(A heart needs a second chance)

When love makes this sound baby

(A heart needs a second chance)


The Beginning of the Worst Decision of My Life

January 2014

I’m pretty sure we’re moving. The first time he mentioned wanting to go was shortly after he told me about his whore. All summer long I was adamant about not moving. I’m settled here. My kids have lives here. And I had no idea where our marriage stood. Like I said, who intentionally moves closer to her husband’s whore? But things seem to be on track and while I worry about my kids I’m ok with the move. Usually. I worry I’m going to get a lot of blowback when it’s holiday time. I’m not going to want to go and I don’t know if he will go without me. I hope he does. Unless of course it’s a front to go visit his whore. Then I will not be happy. I worry that he thinks life will be wonderful out there and when his family isn’t showing up all the time he’ll get depressed. And I do have a tiny amount of fear that things will start up with the whore again. I have no rational reason to distrust him at the present time. But then again I’m not rational all the time.
And honestly? I trusted him before; I never doubted he loved me. And then he betrayed me and told someone else he loved her, made wedding plans with her, and told me he didn’t know if he loved me or not. So, in the end, trust is really overrated.

Added in November 2015:  And now we all know how that turned out!  He did get depressed.  He did use his family as a front for visiting the whore and he did start things up with the whore again.

Editor’s Note:  Upon reading this I want to scream to my 2014 self, “Don’t do it!”  It’s like that moment in Jaws when Chrissy squeals, “Let’s go swimming!”  And well, because the title of the movie is Jaws and it’s about a giant man-eating shark, you know swimming in the ocean at night is not a good idea and the outcome is not going to be pleasant.  Sure enough- she got eaten by a shark.  And sure enough- I got duped!

I will admit that part of me believes we would still be married if I hadn’t agreed to the move.  I keep thinking that if, instead, I had thrown a fit and told him I was not going to move my kids and I didn’t want to move either that life would have continued on.  I keep thinking that most of what I wrote in these Blasts From the Past came about because I was stuck at home all day with nothing to do.  When I have nothing to do I obsess.  I wasn’t obsessing as much back home because I was busy; I had a life.  Out here, though, I had nothing.  I was left with decorating our house and getting new furniture.  A part of me keeps thinking that everything happened because Blockhead found my ramblings and shared them with CF which resulted in his downward spiral and his never ending pity party.  Ultimately, I know that the other FB page was no excuse for him doing what he did.  I continue to have those moments though where I wonder, “What if we never moved?”  I’ll never know.  Maybe it would have been the same outcome.  Maybe not.  Maybe he would have taken a job that required more travel and he would have been miserable and felt like I didn’t care; you know, because I was always only in it for the money.  Did you see that?  That was my eyes rolling so far back in my head I’m pretty sure I saw my past lives.  Or maybe he would have remained at his previous job or even been promoted there.  Maybe he would have eventually decided he was so miserable and all I cared about was the money that he belly ached to his enabling mommy and sister and best friend and they all told him to get out, that he deserved happiness, and that I was, of course, the devil that kept him down.  Maybe Tammy Faye would have encouraged Harley to call him while he was on the road and they would have taken up once again.  Using his big head instead of his little head doesn’t seem to be Cousinfucker’s strong suit so it’s possible he would have started up another affair with the whore.

The important part is I see him now.  I see his dysfunction and how our relationship was slowly killing me.  I see how selfish he was and how he made everything about himself (probably a hallmark of selfishness).  I see how I bent over backwards to please him and make everything perfect for him while he never really tried that hard for me.  So I guess you could say that moving ended up being a good thing, even if it did result in him fucking his cousin.

The Bone Analogy

January 2014

Did you know that when a bone breaks and then heals it is actually stronger than it was before at the area of the break? I was having a hard time not that long ago with the idea of an affair making my marriage better. Early this morning, though, I thought of the bone analogy. Things have been broken but in *healing* we, our marriage, became stronger. Now THAT is something I can live with.

Editor’s Note:  Can I just tell everyone how incredibly sad and painful I find that entry to be?

The Effect Affairs Have On In-Law Relationships

January 2014

Yesterday was New Year’s Eve. Duh! I was reviewing old, old posts and notes. One of them, from 2009 was 25 random facts about me. One of the facts was that I really loved my in-laws. I felt so sad reading that. Sad that they don’t understand why it might not be best to befriend the whore. Sad that their stupid affair cost me my relationship with all of my in-laws unless I want to accept her in my life forever. Perhaps it’s all on me and if I could just accept them having a relationship with her, separate from me, it would be ok. But I can’t accept that. I don’t find it to be right.

My mother-in-law sent me a blank text this morning. I asked her if she had meant to send me something. She said no but wanted to wish me a happy new year and tell me she loved me. I wished her a happy new year and told her I hoped this one would be better than the last one. At least I didn’t say I hope your son doesn’t fuck around on me again this year. She told me she missed our talks and I simply said me too. Again, at least I didn’t say talk to Harley; you don’t seem to think she’s done anything wrong and seem to have a rather high opinion of your son’s whore. She replied, “Let’s do something about it,” and I told her I’d think about it and that was the best I could do for now. I did later send her a picture of her grandson. I’m not a complete bitch.