You Can’t “Nice” Them Out Of It

Some days I feel sorry for Bob. Other days I just want to slap him. He continues to cling to this idea that there is something “deeper” going on with CF. Granted, the last time I spoke with him was back in January but I have heard a lot of, “That’s not the CF I knew,” “I’m worried about him,” and “He is obviously feeling a lot of emotional turmoil.”

No, no he’s not. He’s an asshole. He’s an entitled shithead with narcissistic tendencies who has always put himself first and thought he was so much better than everyone else. He was simply smart enough to realize that those characteristics wouldn’t get him very far so he pretended to be something different. He’s not having a mental breakdown. He isn’t in any emotional distress. He’s playing people. He’s doing what he’s always done and he’s playing the victim.

Even after CF threatened him Bob was still all, “My door is always open if he ever wants to talk.” He also said, “I don’t need an apology. I don’t even need an explanation. If he wants to talk, I’ll listen.” He followed that up with, “The human animal is complicated,” and “Everyone gets a pass if they need it.” Finally, “The ball is in CF’s court.”

The problem is he thinks CF is still that same kid in high school that he used to know. In many ways I’m sure he is. He didn’t become this person overnight. But I think he’s always worn a mask to cover up who he really is. Unfortunately for Bob, that guy he once knew is gone. He’s surrounded by adoring sycophants who tell him only what he wants to hear.

My sweet friend J can be the same way. She’s always thinking the best of everyone. She sincerely believes everyone can change. At one point over the past summer she told me that eventually my kids would forgive him and he would become a part of their lives once again. She thinks he will see the error of his ways and work to improve his relationship with his kids.

I don’t. I think he believes he is always the victim. It is not his fault his relationship with his kids is in the toilet. It’s mine. It’s theirs. It’s never his.

Honestly? I don’t think he even cares he doesn’t have a relationship with them. He’s got two perfectly good kids in his life right now that at least pretend to think he’s wonderful. Why does he need his own two ungrateful snots who keep pointing out his faults and holding his feet to the fire? Besides, the longer he goes without seeing them the more tragic his story is and he can mine it for pity.

I think at some point you just need to cut your losses. It’s hard, I know, to realize and accept that a person cannot change. We always want to believe that with the love of the right person that bad boy/bad girl can change into a wonderful human being that will love you more than anyone ever has. We want to believe that someone is just hurt. They’re scared. They don’t know how to communicate. They have deep issues.

Honey, get in line! We’ve all been hurt. We’ve all dealt with shit. No one gets through this life unscathed.

The reality is some people are just not good or safe people. The only wise thing to do is to cut them out of your life.

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.

 

Hang On, Folks; It’s Going To Be a Bumpy Ride

I hate him with the fire of a thousand suns. Honestly.

I’m heading out of Arby’s this afternoon, food in hand, when I see I’ve received an email from my lawyer and her assistant. Uh-oh. That can’t be good.

The shit eating chimp and his complicit lawyer are asking for documentation of my expenses. Yes, the lying liar who lies and who has been lying for 2 fucking years or more is asking for me to verify the expenses I’ve outlined. Well guess what, cousinfucker? I’ve got receipts coming out of my ass. That’s how I arrived at the expenses I did. In fact, in some cases I actually cut you a break, you dumb sonofabitch.

Rock Star’s competitive cheer is extremely expensive considering I have to make up all the payments from June-September, minus $120/month. I’m paying $278 a month for the regular month and paying $158/month for the months she missed. I also am paying $450 for the uniform, a $500 deposit fee, and a $40 registration fee. I took the total and divided it by 12 months because the season runs all year long. I don’t actually have 12 months to pay. I have 8. So guess what? Now I’m going to ask for actual monthly fees and not an average. Suck on that!

He’s got joint credit cards that he’s never paid on listed as part of his expenses, along with the damn mortgage for our foreclosed on house!

So now I’m in the process of trying to get 2 year old statements from a closed account from the bank to prove that I have nothing to hide. My lawyer even said he was being a jerk and that he’s further victimizing me. She said, and I quote, “It’s him further victimizing you and making your life hard, and he is an idiot for doing so. He should be busting his ass in the opposite direction.”

I also now have to try to get back statements from credit cards that haven’t been paid in over a year to show that he has not been paying them.

Here comes the fun part. After more than 30 minutes on the phone with my bank I find out that I can’t get the statements from the closed joint account because… Cousinfucker changed the address on the account to his whore’s address. So they can copy them and put them in the mail but they’ll be sent to the whore’s house. Isn’t that fun?

Yeah, remember last spring when I wrote about how he kept trying to change the damn address on my accounts? I kept changing it back but finally after he lost his job I figured, “Why bother?” Well, now we know why.

I’m sure it will be a similar situation with the two credit card companies. One is through the same bank. I’m pretty sure that anything that has both of us listed is automatically going to the whore’s old house. When he moved and left his forwarding address anything that said Cousinfucker and Sam was forwarded to him so I’m sure I’ll run into the exact same scenario with the second card; he’s been receiving the bill since he left back in February of 2016 and yet claims he had no clue how to pay it because he didn’t have the information.

Needless to say, that sent me into a tizzy. Most of a lunch hour wasted on bullshit and then finding out I can’t get what I need to clear my name.

Then after a rather pleasant evening out with a friend who was celebrating her birthday I open up yet another email. Cousinfucker and his lawyer have filed a motion wanting the date of separation to be declared in August or September, instead of February. That’s not all. I was pretty much expecting that. No, the real irony is that Cousinfucker once again begins talking about the money I transferred over from checking and savings into the account in my name only. He is claiming that he paid all marital debts and expenses and that I used that money for my own purposes.

That lying, cousin fucking piece of shit! I am not the one out there buying iPhones for a whore and her kid. I am not the one having my husband unknowingly pay said cell phone bill for the whore and the kid. I am not the one buying engagement rings or puppies or moving into brand new expensive houses. I was buying food and clothing and pet supplies. I wasn’t sending thousands of dollars to my boyfriend and trying to impress kids that weren’t mine. I didn’t authorize a $300 dress for a fucking school dance or over $400 in new sporting equipment, all for kids that weren’t mine. I didn’t take weekend trips with a lover or even take my own damn kids on a luxury vacation with that money. I was a fucking stay at home mom for the past 15 years. Our kids had just been ripped away from everything they loved in their previous life and now, a year later, they’re finding out their parents are getting a divorce. He cut me off financially; he did not give a shit that he gave me enough to pay the bills and that was it. There wasn’t enough money left over for groceries, much less gas for the car, food for the pets, or anything for the kids. I guess he figured I would go out and get some high paying job in a week or two and be on my feet in no time. Fuck the kids. Fuck the kids that already had a tsunami destroy their lives. Now let’s add taking their mother away from them. Let’s toss in making them quit all their after school activities because mom now works and can’t pick up the kids after school; she also has no fucking support network because, oh that’s right, the cousin fucking nitwit moved her 2000 miles across the country and away from her friends who acted as a support network.

I don’t know why his actions enrage me so much. I expected this on some level. But to see in print that I used that money for my own purposes just galls me. He is the only one that has been misappropriating funds. He has been misappropriating funds from the very beginning. The jackass blew through approximately thirty thousand dollars in four months time and not a single bit of that was on marital debts or the marital household. It was all on shit for the whore and her kids. But yes, by all means ask me to explain myself, you giant shitbird! Ask me to verify that I am telling the truth even though I’m not the one who lied and cheated. Oh, and while you’re at it change the fucking address to every statement I need so that you can effectively tie my hands behind my back and I can’t prove you are the liar and I am the one telling the truth.

I swear to God it reminds me of our marriage. I run around doing all the work while he sits back and does nothing. I’m the one trying to get bank and credit card statements from the banks. I’m the one verifying and proving and paying for all this shit! Oh! That reminds me. That’s another thing they would like proof of- my actual legal fees because they are essentially calling me a liar and saying they don’t believe my legal fees are what they actually are. Yep, that’s the kind of thing I’d lie about. My lawyer would willingly lie for me. Riiiight. Refer back to the previous paragraph, asshole. Maybe if you didn’t change the fucking address on all of our fucking shared bills I wouldn’t have to issue subpoenas for everything I need, thereby saving on, you know, lawyer fees! You dumb, cocksucking, cousin fucking sonofabitch!

Why isn’t he jumping through hoops? Why am I the one subpoenaing all the damn records? Oh, that’s right. My lawyer says it makes me look transparent and like I have nothing to hide. I don’t have anything to hide!

He’s sitting back, chilling with the whore and new whore family, not a care in the world. I don’t think his lawyer has done the legwork on anything. She just requests copies from what my lawyer has subpoenaed. Meanwhile, I’m spending my one free hour during the day calling around trying to get crap done and placing frantic phone calls to my lawyer’s office. That seems like the way it should be, doesn’t it?

The fire of a thousand suns, I tell you. I absolutely detest that man. I cannot wait for this shit show to be over.

1dagw7

1cesdu

 

The Kool-Aid He Drinks

I’m beginning to think he’s certifiably crazy. Oh sure, he’s got the PTSD stuff going on supposedly, but I am beginning to think the man has just lost his damn mind. He’s delusional.

I got a text from one of his sisters, wanting to meet up. Not Jezebel, of course. She had a lot of interesting information.

I think my favorite part was when she talked about how she went off on him. Apparently he asked how the kids were (because, you know, he can’t pick up a damn phone and CALL THEM!!!) and she told him they were fine but to never expect them to be in his life again. She said she couldn’t hold her tongue anymore and she flat out told him that he was a disappointment. She told him he was the worst father in the world. Wow! She told him he had ruined our daughter’s dreams of college gymnastics and ruined her chance at getting a scholarship for that as well, and that he left Picasso at a time when a teenage boy needs his dad the most. And she told him that despite all of their father’s faults he looked like a saint compared to Cousinfucker; CF actually made their father look like a fantastic father. She finished it up by telling him that what he had done to his own kids was far more detrimental than anything their parents had done to them and that she hoped her harsh words and keen disappointment in his behavior would knock some sense into him.

No luck on that! But thanks for trying.

Naturally, his response was that I had poisoned the kids against him. Yes, it was all on me. I’m sure walking out the door like you were going to work and moving to another state didn’t play any part in it. Or not calling your daughter back or even bothering with checking up on her after she called you crying upon finding out her parents were getting a divorce. She hung up on your mother and yet no one bothered to call her back and find out if she was okay. Nor did you bother with checking on her in person once you got home from your weekend fuck-fest. But I’m sure that’s my fault. Just like it’s my fault that you couldn’t be bothered to walk into their rooms and ask them how they were doing. You couldn’t be bothered to invite them out for an ice cream cone or to dinner or anything really. You couldn’t come up with $80 for a Homecoming dress for your daughter but spent over $300 on a dress for the cunt face cum dumpster’s daughter. I’m also certain it’s my fault that somehow you could find the strength to drive 12 hours round trip every weekend to go fuck a whore but you couldn’t bother to drive even one weekend to see your children. Yes, yes. I’m sure that was my fault. Just like it was undoubtedly my fault that you couldn’t be bothered to attend one single high school gymnastics meet, one single cheer competition or watch one single football game where your own daughter was cheering, but you could buy a fucking t-shirt with the whore’s daughter’s school’s name on it and go to cheer her on… because you wanted to support her. I’m sure it’s my fault you didn’t attempt to communicate with them for months after you forced us to move out of our house, or that you’ve never bothered apologizing for everything you’ve put us through, or that you’ve never set eyes on your kids since you took off. Yep, all my fault. You’re the poor misunderstood victim.

Thankfully this particular sister told him to knock it off. She informed him that I didn’t need to say a word about him. His own actions sealed his fate and his kids could see on their own how selfish he was.

She also mentioned something that I had completely forgotten and which might shed some light on why Harley the Whore is sticking around despite his alcoholism and unemployment. CF’s dad died a few years ago. As far as I know the estate has not been settled, at least it hadn’t been when I was still with him. She asked if we ever received anything and I was honest- told her we hadn’t and I thought it was all pending the sale of the house. So…. while I’m not saying it definitely did happen if he did in fact receive money from his father’s estate that would explain why the gold digger is still hanging around. It explains why she didn’t cut bait and run once he lost his job. It explains how he’s able to continue to pay his lawyer, despite being unemployed for 9 months. I know that according to our state law I am not legally entitled to any inheritance he may have received, so I’m not upset about that. If he has been living off of it though I hope he has a good time explaining to the judge how it is that he could continue to support his new, fake family but he could’t send a dime to his actual family.

Furthermore, she told me his FB page is full of pictures of him and his new family. She thought it was sickening and told me she hoped the kids hadn’t seen it. Hey! We’re in agreement. I find it sickening and ridiculous, too!

And, as I already suspected, he had a difficult time finding work because he refused to look outside of the state or leave her behind. I find it so comforting to know that he could move me and our kids around, disrupt our lives and never for a minute think of us but the whore and her four kids are the only thing he takes into consideration now. Too bad he couldn’t have exhibited such care and concern when it was us.

Do you want to hear something really ironic? The company that ultimately “fired” him (forced him to resign) was the same company that he originally worked for. Actually, the first company he worked for was bought out by another company. That company was eventually bought out by this newest company. So in a bizarre sort of way he ended up working for the very first company he ever worked for, which means he could have remained in the same town where we met. I never would have needed to move. I wouldn’t have needed to reinvent my life over and over again. Ain’t that a kick in the teeth? Oh well, as long as he’s happy….

Life Rollercoaster

Is this about over? I swear, every time I start to be a little more optimistic I get knocked on my ass. I was just thinking about how working two jobs has allowed me to have a tiny little bit of breathing room, that maybe I’m not so completely poor and that maybe I can provide just a tiny bit for my kids.

Then life comes along and says, “Not so fast!” I’m not sure what it is I’ve done to deserve all this hell being heaped upon me. I don’t sleep with married men. I don’t steal. I don’t beat my kids. I’m generally a very kind, giving person. I like to think I have a good sense of humor and am a good friend.

“What happened?” you may be wondering. Let me tell you. First, I open the letter from my attorney (who needs another 3 grand, btw). Jackass has got an expert witness lined up to testify that he’s unable to work because of his supposed PTSD. Great! An expert witness who will tell the judge that poor little sweetie pie can’t work because he’s suffering from the trauma of war.

You wanna know who should have a fucking PTSD diagnosis? Me! I was moved 2000 miles away from my entire life to make him happy only to find out he would never be happy. I put him and his happiness above me and my kids and our happiness only to be shit on repeatedly. I trusted that cousin fucking piece of shit and he turned around and spent an entire summer looking me right in the face and lying.

I’ve gone from being in the top 2-3% of the socioeconomic population to the bottom 5-10%. I’ve lost my home. I was forced to move out of the state. I was forced to move in with my mom or be homeless. I had to get rid of almost all of my possessions. I had to tell my kids we had to move. I had to rip their lives apart again. I’ve gone from being a stay at home mom who lives for her kids and does everything for them, to being a person who works 2 jobs, 55 hours a week, 6 days out of seven, who farms almost everything out for my kids and who dreads having to go to another event when I’m already so damn tired and my days are already so fucking long. I hate my life. I have absolutely no joy in it. I pray every day that I will die early so that I don’t have to do this shit anymore. But you don’t see me getting a fucking expert witness to testify that I’m just way too fucking fragile to work.

You know what I do? I scream and cry and cuss that sonofabitch out all the way to work. And then I pull myself together, dry my tears and go to work. Why? Because unlike Cousinfucker I don’t have a fucking choice! I don’t get to ignore my kids and pretend they don’t have needs because hey, out of sight, out of mind!

I’ve been doing this all along, with no one by my side telling me how wonderful I am and how horrible he was. I get up and I GO  every single fucking day. Every morning I wake up at 3:20 in the fucking morning. While the rest of the world sleeps I’m up and getting ready to go to my first job and stock shelves and toss boxes around. It’s not glamourous. It’s not easy. It’s not fun. And it pays for shit.

Then I come home, get ready for my second job, and I go to work and I smile and I joke with customers and I’m all happy and cheerful while my life is spiraling down the drain and I continue to go through this divorce from hell.

That’s what I do. Meanwhile, Cousinfucker finds himself an expert witness to testify that he can’t possibly work.

But that’s not all. Because Cousinfucker refuses to work and pay support I have been forced to work two jobs so that I can pay the bills and feed the kids. My second job doesn’t pay for a boat. It isn’t paying for a luxury vacation or three or four. It doesn’t allow us to go out and go on shopping sprees. No, my second job means I can buy food. If either of my kids needs something for school I can probably buy it. It means I’m not down to $1 by the time pay day rolls around.

My daughter works as well. She works so that she can buy a car because her dad decided he’d rather go fuck his cousin instead of sticking around and helping to raise his kids. She works so that she can buy the clothes that I can no longer buy her. She works so that she can help to pay her car insurance because I’m not sure I can take another $100/month hit. She works so that she can go out with friends, buy make-up, grab something to eat, and just have spending money in general because her father refuses to pay support, which in turn means I can’t do any of those things for her. Or her brother.

Guess what it also means?

It means between the two of us we now make too much for me or my kids to qualify for Medicaid. Yes, I got that lovely bit of news as well. The program that I was once embarrassed to need I am now crying over. No doubt due to the fact that I will now need to get a third job to pay for the medical insurance I will have to purchase through work. It’s $185 every two weeks and it’s a high deductible plan. I have to pay out $2600/person before it kicks in a dime. Isn’t that wonderful? Or I take the tax penalty come next April. Awesome! And with my luck if I don’t carry insurance on them then some catastrophe will hit one of them. Then again, I’m broke anyway so who cares if I have to declare bankruptcy because of medical bills?

If I quit my second job then my kids don’t eat and there are no tiny extras, like Easter baskets or money for school sports. Or, my retired mother has to shoulder even more of the burden of the three of us. If I don’t quit my second job then I need to get a third job. I guess I’ll find something where I can work Saturday and Sunday. I’ll work 14 hour days on Saturday and Sunday will be my light day where I only work 8 1/2 hours. I’ll get two of those a week and those will be my official “days off”. Doesn’t that sound fair? I work three jobs and Cousinfucker works none. I never show up for anything for my kids. I’m never around for my kids. All so that I can support them. Because Cousinfucker won’t pay child or spousal support. And because he’s very busy playing Daddy of the Year to the whore’s four kids.

I’ve been going through old entries, mainly because I deleted a bunch of pictures and realized when I did that I lost my images on the posts. Duh! But as I was reading I realized I kept saying that maybe in six months things would look better. Maybe in a year things would look better. Maybe I was wrong and I would get an amazing job and my kids would do wonderfully here. Maybe this and maybe that. But you know what? None of it is any better. Picasso and Rock Star both are doing well but I’m not. I work two shit jobs for shit pay and that’s cost us our free health care. Their father is doing everything he can to get out of having to pay. I have no new and better life. I have, like, three friends here and I rarely go out with any of them. They all have lives of their own and very little time for me. I have no life outside of work. I’m too fucking tired to do much of anything after I’ve spent 13 hours at work. I have days where I fall asleep sitting up in a chair around 7:30 because I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. I feel horrible even admitting this but I dread the days I have to go to something for either of the kids because it means that I no longer get my 2 hours of down time. And then I feel bad if I don’t go; I feel bad that I don’t want to go. Because I have always wanted to go and support them. I have a life that I am desperately hoping ends sooner rather than later. I try and I try and I try some more. I work my ass off. I desert my kids. I try to be positive and I try to look on the good side of things and it comes around and kicks my ass. Every. Goddamn. Fucking. Single. Time!

You know what’s funny? No one believes me! I mention I hope I die of a massive heart attack and people think I’m joking. Someone once said to me, “I hear you work a second job.” I told her that, yes, I do indeed work a second job. I work from 4-7 am most days before I come into Job #2. She told me she didn’t know how I did it and how I managed and I replied, “Well, I cry every day.” Her response? “You’re so funny!” No, seriously, I cry pretty much every day. No one believes me. They think I’m hysterical. The funny kind, not the crazy kind. And lest anyone gets all worried I’m not suicidal. I wouldn’t kill myself but I’m not looking forward to staying alive most days either.

I really don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m so over all of this shit. I’m so tired of getting knocked down. I’m so tired of feeling just a tiny bit of hope only to have it slapped down hard. So many days I just want to tell him, “Fine! Take it all! I’ll take all the debt. I’ll pay you support. You keep your 401k. You keep your pension. I’ll pay you back for every goddamn thing you think I owe you and you pay me back nothing because everything you took was absolutely positively yours and yours alone. Hell, I’ll pay you half for my goddamn car so that I can still drive it even though you haven’t made a single payment on it in almost 2 years and have never paid the fucking property tax on it!” It still wouldn’t be enough for him. I hate him. I hope he dies. I hope it’s painful. I hope someone videotapes it and sends it to me so that I can watch it every night as a sweet bedtime story as I fall asleep. It might be a nice change from ID TV.

P.S. I know I said earlier I was generally a kind and loving person. I am. Unless I hate you. Then I hope you die. Painfully.

Spitting Nails, Part 1

You get a bonus entry today because I am so mad I could spit nails.

My attorney appeared in court today to get a show-cause hearing. As expected Cousinfucker simultaneously filed for a modification of his support. It gets better. He’s now claiming that because of his mental health and substance abuse issues he won’t be able to earn anywhere near his previous salary. He is putting his income range around $30,000. Wow- that’s what he was making when I met him more than 22 years ago. It gets even better. Not only are they filing for a modification of support they want it retroactive to the day in June that he notified me he lost his job. Because apparently when you don’t have a job you don’t have any bills to pay and your children no longer have any needs or wants.

I just asked my attorney a few days ago if a judge would vacate his arrears and she told me that he would still owe that. I asked again after reading his lawyer’s filing and I haven’t yet heard back. It may very well turn out that I’m going to have to wait until February to see if he will get away with yet another shitty act. If Cousinfucker wanted a modification he should have filed for that months ago. He’s a lazy sonofabitch who figured I would go away and let him fuck his whore in peace. Does the fact that he’s had FIVE MONTHS to file a modification mean nothing?

On top of that his attorney is trying to make him look like a saint by claiming all of his gross annual income for Dream Job #1 and then claiming a pay cut for Dream Job #2 while he continued to pay the agreed upon court orders. Um… first of all, she overestimated his pay by about $20,000. Second of all, he was paying support based upon his monthly income only. He argued vehemently against having any of his bonus, stocks, or dividend checks included. He even argued that the bonus was already spent and that he wasn’t assured of that amount every year (another lie). He actually ended up paying less than what he would have been ordered to pay if we had included all of his salary. Third of all, he didn’t take a pay cut when he moved; he actually got a slight monthly pay increase where his base salary was concerned. It wasn’t much but then again he wasn’t moving for the money; he was moving for the whore. Fourth? It’s not my damn fault he quit his job and moved. Those are called consequences, Cousinfucker!

Naturally they are using his veteran status and claiming he has severe depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and PTSD. Funny how most of that didn’t manifest itself until he started fucking a whore and found out it wasn’t so cheap to get rid of the wife.

My attorney is not very hopeful. She thinks he’s going to have a tough time finding another job in his pay range. The jobs that pay what he’s used to won’t want to take a chance on him and the jobs that aren’t as demanding will say he’s overqualified. So, I don’t know if she thinks he’s going to get away with everything (which is what I’m fully expecting), or if she thinks it doesn’t matter what a judge rules because he’ll never be able to pay me what he owes.

She did suggest to his attorney that perhaps he ought to go back to his former place of employment to see if he was eligible for a re-hire, letting them know he had an emergency medical issue which has been taken care of. That’s hysterical. He doesn’t want to have to commute 2 hours each way. He sure as hell doesn’t want to have to go back to the company he called home for 15 years because that’s 6 hours away from the whore. He could get a job in Manufacturing Services but that would require weekly travel and I’m sure he’d prefer to get his nightly blow job over supporting his children. He’s such a piece of shit.

Twenty years of marriage and nineteen years of me following that sonofabitch all over the country and I’m going to be left with nothing.

Part 2 of my, “I’m So Mad I Could Spit Nail,” coming later tonight. Probably. I’ve been up since 12:45 am so I’m getting a bit tired.

As I Was Saying…

The other day I posted this meme:

1cgrwg

Cheaters are very good at spreading this narrative. I’m sure Cousinfucker has a ton of reasons that he began fucking his cousin, and I’m equally sure that all of them revolve around things I either did or didn’t do.

I recall how in the days following my first discovery I sent a message to Harley’s husband and told him not to worry because CF had deleted all the naked pictures of her off of his phone. Oh, that brought such distress to poor CF! He begged me to leave them alone, to let them work on their own issues while we did the same.

Seriously? Yes, see the problem wasn’t so much that The Saint’s whore of a wife had been sending another man naked pictures. No, the problem was me letting him know his whore of a wife had been sending another man naked pictures.

Likewise, the real problem wasn’t so much that Cousinfucker had had an affair with Harley. The real problem was that I couldn’t forgive and forget (forget being the key word). I wrote about it. Sometimes I still felt hurt and angry about what had transpired. I wasn’t able to dismiss her completely from my mind. CF making plans to marry another woman wasn’t the problem. The problem was me continuing to collect her FB profile pictures. The problem wasn’t CF planning on taking her with him to get a tattoo and her getting a tattoo of her own to symbolize their great enduring love; no, again, the problem was how I responded to that news. I didn’t focus on the future. The problem wasn’t that his family wouldn’t cut Harley out of their lives; the problem was that I wasn’t willing to overlook that slight. It hurt me and I refused to pretend that it didn’t. Bad me! Here’s my virtual hand slap. The problem wasn’t that he moved us across the country and systematically dismantled our lives; the problem was that I was unhappy about having my life systematically dismantled. The problem wasn’t his drinking or that he once again secluded himself in the bedroom; oh gosh no! The problem was that I wasn’t upstairs sitting next to him, checking on him frequently, ignoring our kids, and making him the center of my universe.

And the second time around? Oh, the problem wasn’t that CF was lying to me while he funneled money to Harley all summer. And it wasn’t that he was fucking her, or had cashed in the rest of his stock, or was interviewing for a job in her state. No! Silly people, the real problem was that I stole his money! I dared to take the money that was in our savings, most of which was earmarked to pay off the pool, and put it into an account where he couldn’t hand it over to Harley. The problem wasn’t that he was fucking Harley; the real problem was that I had the audacity to tell the kids he was having an affair. According to him, this could still be civil and I wasn’t playing along. Now that was a problem! The problem wasn’t that he was having an affair and taking off every weekend to be with the whore; the problem was that I no longer cooked for him! The problem wasn’t that Harley posted on FB about how much she was missing my husband in her bed; the problem was that Rock Star saw it and went ballistic. The problem had nothing to do with his affair; the problem was that I wouldn’t play ball anymore. I didn’t cook for him, or do his laundry, and I had no interest whatsoever in speaking to him.

Similarly, the reformed cheater that I once blogged about was appalled at the thought of his mistress letting his wife know about their affair. He also maintained that if she had been married and it had been her husband that had told his wife he would have made his life miserable, possibly even suing him. I’m wondering on what grounds? Is douchebag a protected class?

Your Honor, I wish to sue this man for slander.

Okay. Briefly described what happened.

He told my wife that I was having an affair with his wife!

And that was a lie?

Oh no! It was the truth. But I didn’t want her to know! Now she’s divorcing me and I wasn’t ready for that. He must pay! Telling the truth has had disastrous consequences for me.

Again, it’s not so much actively participating in adultery that is the bad thing. No! Telling the betrayed partner the truth is the bad thing. He didn’t think that the mistress was such a bad person when she was helping him betray his wife and fucking him. She was only bad when she told his wife the truth.

Here’s another one from a poster over on Chump Lady:

When I told my STBX that I would tell the OW’s husband he said that I would be ruining their family and that they are good people.

Yep! Thankfully, that woman let her husband know that she wasn’t ruining a damn thing. He and his whore ruined their families when they began screwing around. But that’s how they think. It’s not what I’m doing. It’s how you’re reacting to it.

Another beauty:

On DDay when I said OW’s husband deserved to be told, X said in a raging and threatening tone, “You would ruin a dying man’s last year by telling him?

Turns out this poor man was suffering from terminal cancer. This betrayed wife found her backbone and replied, “I am not the one screwing his wife.” But according to this disordered wing nut the affair is not the source of pain; it’s the fact that someone might actually tell him about the affair.

Hmmm… I suppose technically he would be correct. Currently, the duped terminally ill man has no idea his wife is such a treacherous whore. The argument must be that what we don’t know won’t hurt us.

Unfortunately I know from personal experience that not knowing does in fact hurt us. We end up feeling even more stupid when we realize that we’ve been cheated on and we bought all of the cheater’s lies. It still stings when I realize I so easily bought all of his bullshit.

You know who else ends up getting hurt even though they don’t know about the affair? The woman who ends up losing her baby thanks to an STD her husband gave her due to an affair, the man who has to paternity test his kids, the woman who winds up with cervical cancer because her husband passed along the HPV virus he contracted from his AP, any of the people who find out they now have an STD when they’ve remained faithful, the man who pays alimony to his cheating wife and loses time with his kids, the woman who finds out her husband has drained their kids’ college funds and refinanced the house to pay for his affairs.

Or this one:

One of the things my husband said to me when I was shell shocked and trying to figure out who this person I trusted with my life really was, “I don’t want the girls to think I am a liar and a cheater.”

From her husband’s mistress:

I don’t want people to think I am a home wrecker.

It was the second affair with a married man that the wife knew about.

Oh, it’s an image problem! No, jackass, you really are a liar and a cheater. And whore, you are a home wrecker. You sleep with married men for sport.

You might be amazed at the number of cheating spouses who tell their partners that they are willing to forgive them for being so angry and for any actions that they might have taken upon finding out about the cheating. That is the pinnacle of, “It’s not what I’ve done; it’s how you reacted to it.” These delusional assholes actually think they are in a position to forgive someone.

And of course you always see the fallout with the kids. How dare you tell the children the truth about what I’ve done? You’ll turn them against me! It will be all. your. fault. that I don’t have a relationship with my kids. Some even go so far as to threaten parental alienation if a parent dares to speak the truth.

CF had a unique twist on this one. The first time around when I told him I wanted him to tell the kids what he had done he cried and begged me not to make him tell. He was at least honest when he said they would never look at him the same way ever again. Hey, he was looking out for his own best interests and he wasn’t shy about admitting it.

The second time around he admitted it but it was full of caveats. Your mom and I weren’t happy; we hadn’t been happy ever since we had kids. We grew apart. Your mom never loved me. Your mom took all of my money. Your mom has a lawyer and I don’t. Your mom never took care of me.

Sure… he cheated but he had very valid reasons for being a lying, cheating sonofabitch! Strangely, all of those reasons were my fault. Funny how that works, huh?

I don’t think this is necessarily limited to cheaters, though. I’m sure abusers don’t want the truth out there. Addicts, selfish and/or entitled people, narcissists… They all expect to have their secrets kept. Just sit there and keep your mouth shut. They’ll write the narrative and let everyone know what they think they should know. There’s no need for you to get involved and start telling “your version” of the truth.

I’m sure that Cousinfucker and most everyone in his family are united in their belief that I shouldn’t have told the kids he was having an affair. One of the last conversations I had with Tammy Faye occurred when they came to our house. She made mention of the fact that I had told the kids about his EA with Harley. I quickly set her straight and let her know that while I thought he should tell the kids he begged me to not make him do so. I acquiesced.

Jezebel’s kids were much younger than mine were when she had her affair with Husband #2. I’m not sure her oldest son knows even today that the reason his parents divorced was because his mom left his dad for their pastor. Their attitude seems to be that there is no reason for the kids to know the truth.

Of course not! We wouldn’t want to ruin that illusion any of them have going on.

Tell your story. Don’t let these fuckups control the narrative. The problem IS what they’ve done; it is NOT your reaction to it. As Anne Lamott says…

1cgk98

Even More Bitter Irony

I’m not sure if that means only that there is more bitter irony to share, or if this bitter irony is even more bitter than the last bitch of bitter irony. Wowza! That’s a tongue twister.

I have been thinking about this these last several days. These are two pieces of what I consider to be ironic clusterfucks of the highest magnitude.

For many years Cousinfucker and I would have a small disagreement every time the yearly review came up for him to change or stick with his benefits. I always lobbied for higher life insurance because, according to him, I’m a cold calculating bitch who only thinks of money and wanted to kill him off. Close… but not really what I was after. I don’t know a whole lot about investing money but I do know that for approximately every $100,000 invested you can expect about $1000/month in dividends. With that in mind a $250,000 life insurance policy was not going to take me and the kids very far through life should anything happen to Mr. Wonderful. So each year I would patiently explain that no, I was not trying to set him up for an ambush, but if he wanted life to go on relatively unscathed and as normal as possible for HIS CHILDREN should he meet a tragic and unexpected demise then he did indeed need the higher amount that I suggested. He always told me he didn’t want to be worth more dead than alive. Didn’t want to give me any reason to kill him off, he said.

HA! Back then I had a vested interest in making sure he stuck around. I loved him; I planned on growing old with him. I actually dreaded the thought of him dying and leaving me behind. I knew my kids needed and loved their dad. The money wouldn’t have replaced him; it would have simply assured us that we wouldn’t have to sell the house and pick up and move (kinda like we’ve had to do already thanks to his affair). It would have meant that instead of my kids losing their father and then having their mother re-enter the workforce to try to make up the difference between what was left in survivor benefits and what he had brought home, I would be able to remain at home with them. Call me crazy but I think that after losing a parent stability might be important.

Fast forward to today. He really IS worth more dead than alive. Even better? I don’t like him at all now. Wouldn’t shed a tear if he dropped dead (and let’s face it; that won’t happen because only the good ones die tragically early). His kids want nothing to do with him. He is not a part of our family and isn’t offering us a single benefit.

I think there’s something a little brazen about that whole dynamic. When I loved him and wanted him to be an active member of our family he worried about me trying to kill him off. Now that he’s left us for Harley and her brood, taken everything from us, and is definitely worth more dead than alive he feels perfectly secure. Seriously! He has taken everything away from me; I have nothing left to lose at this point. And if he were dead I would at least get survivor benefits for the kids from Social Security!  Maybe it’s the distance. Whatever it is I sure as hell find it ironic. Let me be clear: I am not plotting his death. It is a simple fact that he is not paying me any support now; if he died I would get survivor benefits. It’s a statement, not a plan.

The other titty twister of irony is in who is receiving child support. Harley’s husband stayed at home with their 3 children under the age of the 4, and the subsequent child that came along a few years later. He was a stay-at-home-dad for 11 years. She has a Masters degree and I’ve seen the bank statements; she makes decent money. It’s half of what CF used to bring home monthly (his annual gross salary is distorted by his obscene bonus check he receives one time per year) but it’s still decent. I don’t know what The Saint makes but it can’t be as much as she makes. He’s only been back in the workforce for a few years and I know he hasn’t worked steadily since his return. Yet that bitch is the one who is consistently receiving child support. I suppose it does make sense seeing as how The Saint actually loves his children and has always been an active, hands-on father.

On the other side of this affair equation you have me and Cousinfucker. I was the stay at home wife who followed him all over the country for 19 out of the 20 years we were together. We both agreed I would be the stay at home parent; he even bragged to his sister and to our kids about the importance of it and how much he liked me being home. Before quitting I worked mainly menial, going nowhere types of office jobs, often signing up with a temp agency just to get some work. My last job I worked from home and it was primarily part-time with the exception of about 3 months when I worked full time. I have been totally financially dependent upon him. He has wanted it that way; he even balked at me going back to school and let me know if I got a job the house and kids were still MY job as well.  He has made six figures for the last fifteen years. And yet he’s the one who is NOT paying child support!

Yep, the stay at home dad of 11 years is paying the lying, cheating whore of an ex-wife child support when she makes more money than he does. The lying, cheating man-whore is not paying support to the cheated on, lied to stay at home mom of 18 years who is completely financially dependent upon him. What kind of crazy ass world do we live in?

A Conversation With Rock Star

“Mom, do YOU think he’s crazy?”

I pause, giving great thought to this question my daughter has just asked.  She has already freely said she believes her dad is legitimately crazy.  She’s not a psychiatrist though so I’m not sure how much stock to put into her diagnosis.  After weighing my words carefully I give her my answer.

“No, I don’t think he’s crazy.  I think he’s living in a fantasy world.  I don’t know for certain where he’s working but I do know his big dream was to work side by side with his best friend.  He once told me he should have taken the job at Best Friend’s plant when Best Friend tried to get him to come work with him and that was one of his biggest regrets.  If I had to bet I would place money on the fact that Best Friend managed to get him a job at his company and they are now working together.  So he thinks he has his dream job and he thinks he has his dream woman.”

She turns up her nose at that comment.  I can’t say that I blame her.  But he does. I don’t tell her this part but he thinks that Harley and her performance are the real thing.  She loves him for who he is and she would never be with him for the money.  Oh no!  That was the evil, awful Sam who stuck around for the money.  Harley is going to be the perfect mate.  She’ll text him every time she takes a shit and let him know all about it.  She’ll tell him how handsome he is and coo over every little thing he does.  Best of all, every weekend it’s nonstop sex!

Here’s the thing.  I’m sure that for a period of time, maybe even a decent period of time, this will play out just fine.  He will live far enough away from her that he can’t live with her, thereby giving him four days to decompress and do whatever he wants.  Then for 3 days (2 1/2 if we want to be technical) he puts on his Dad of the Year/Companion of the Year mask and is all smiles and grand gestures.  When things start to bother him it’s time to return back to his home where he can chill in front of the television, drink some wine, and not have to deal with anyone.  He doesn’t have to help her get kids to activities.  He doesn’t have to help with homework.  He doesn’t have any of the daily grind you have when you actually live with someone day after day.  But eventually the newness will wear off.  It’s also quite possible that he will find out sooner, rather than later, that the love of his life is cheating on him.  Ouch! Again, not things I say out loud to her.

I do go on to tell her that I think eventually his perfect fantasy life is going to implode.  His best friend has switched companies quite a few times and I don’t see them staying at the same company, together, for another fifteen to twenty years.  I also don’t see Cousinfucker taking it too well when and if Best Friend becomes his boss.  I also don’t see Best Friend taking it too well if the situation was reversed.  I think they have this vision of what life is going to be like, them working together, and I don’t think reality is going to play out anywhere close to this dream of theirs.  They are two alpha males and I see them either clashing with one another, or them trying to take down their boss, which probably won’t go over well with him.  Even if my theory that he’s working with Best Friend is incorrect and he’s actually working somewhere completely different the same rules apply.  He will love it at first and then when he doesn’t get to dictate every single thing he’s going to begin pouting and decide he hates it.  Only now he’s stuck.

What I say to her in summation is that once the newness of his relationship wears off and he realizes what kind of a person Harley is, and once he realizes that working with Best Friend isn’t the dream he believes it will be, I think he is going to look back at everything he has given up- his wife of over 20 years, his two kids, a job that he’s held for more than 15 years, and he’s going to realize how severely he has screwed himself.

At this point in my “journey” I’m not sure if I’d rather see that day arrive and smirk knowingly, gleeful at his misery, or if I would prefer to truly not give a damn and just be able to shake my head and say, “Sucks to be you.”  Only time will tell, I suppose.

Is My New Lawyer Psychic?

I saw another lawyer last week.  I liked her and I decided to switch.  I have many reasons for making the switch but key among them would be communication and the fact that I think my previous attorney botched my case.  Not an all out, Oh my God, I’m ruined, kinda botched.  But he definitely did not do me any favors or get me the best deal possible.

First interesting moment of the conversation with her was when she told me that everything in the court order is modifiable.  And there is a lot I’d like to see modified.  The funny part though is due to Cousinfucker quitting his job and leaving the state I now have a material change in circumstances.  Of course, I can be granted anything by the court but it doesn’t mean shit if he’s going to defy the court order or believes he’s untouchable because he’s out of state.  He probably thought he was going to screw me by getting everything excluded from his annual salary except his base pay and then turning around and getting a new job with a potentially higher base pay, even if the bonuses aren’t as good.  He thought he would screw me by promising half of his bonus check and to pay off the pool with that money and then leaving his job and doing neither of those two things.  Turns out the joke’s on him because with him taking this new job I can now go back and ask to have support re-evaluated.  And this time, when he has to throw in extra to cover marital debt my attorney is going to have that excluded from spousal support.  It will show up as a contribution to the marital debt, which it is, instead of as spousal support to me.  And as far as the bonus check is concerned I still have hope that he actually received it before leaving his company, but if he didn’t I would love to drag his ass before a judge and have him explain why he agreed to something only to turn around and voluntarily resign from his job no more than six weeks later.

The second moment was when the lawyer told me she was concerned for his mental well being.  She said there were a lot of red flags coming up for her and she was very concerned that he was going to have a complete mental breakdown, especially when Harley dumps him.  I explained that two years ago when he was confiding in Jezebel about his affair he told her that Harley made him happy and I remarked that according to Harley he is Daddy of the Year and she’s never been happier.  This is where it begins to get really interesting.

She looked at me and said, “Are you really going to take her word for it?  She’s a married woman with four kids having an affair with her cousin.  He’s a paycheck to her, a sugar daddy.”

Wow!  Here is a woman who has never met me, Cousinfucker or Harley and yet she has said the exact same thing that I have said, that family members have said.  I’ll admit that sometimes I wonder if I’m wrong and that she’s not the real love of his life.  I wonder if I say she’s just a gold digging whore to make myself feel better.  But here is a woman who has seen many, many divorces over the years.  She’s been doing this a long time.  And she has made the same observation.  In many ways it’s validation.  I continue to wrestle with the idea that this is not my fault.  Rationally I know it is not.  But in my insane moments (yes, I do have those!) I keep coming back to the old, “What if I didn’t do this?  What if I did that?  Maybe I should have done this.”  This lady put it all in perspective.  I am correct!  He’s a paycheck to Harley.  She’s a desperate, gold digging mother of four who has found a sugar daddy.  I’m hoping to help him run out of sugar quite soon.

The other thing she said that really resonated was I am the one that kept him grounded.  She had already told me how there were a lot of red flags for her when I told her my story.  She then mentioned that he has this nice little fantasy life going on and once things crumble she’s not sure he’s going to be able to keep it together.  She is very worried that he will end up having a complete breakdown and lose his job.  As she put it (and I’m going to paraphrase here):  When things come crashing down you’re not going to be there to help put them back together this time.  And I have a feeling you were that person- you kept it all going, even if he refuses to acknowledge it.  Again, I have to pump my fist and shout, “Yes!”

I was indeed that person.  I don’t think he has any idea how much bullshit I put up with in order to keep things going.  I took care of the house, the pets, the kids, him.  I cooked.  I cleaned.  I did his laundry.  The man never had to put away his own clothes for crying out loud!  I washed them, dried them, folded them, and put them away!  He never had to wash a dish.  He was the pampered king.  When he would freak out over something small and insignificant I was the one being the soothing voice of reason.  I was the one who would take charge, make the phone calls, get the job done, and interact with the people.  When he got sick I was the one taking care of him, calling the doctor’s office, taking him to the doctor’s or the ER, sitting with him, running interference for him.  In short, I was awesome.  He no longer has me around to do all of those things.  I can’t be certain but I have a definite feeling that Harley is not going to do those things either.  She’s in it for the money, the good times, the attention.  She is not going to be eager to deal with the real him and she’s certainly not going to be standing by him if he ever loses his job and spirals down into a heap of self pity.

So now in addition to being left after twenty plus years, abandoned in a new town that he insisted we move to, him deserting his two children, and him quitting his job and moving out of state I also get to wait for the inevitable breakdown.  I’ve gotta be honest here.  I’m kinda looking forward to it on the one hand.  On the other hand, he’s not going to be of any use to me in a psych ward, or as an alcoholic who can’t keep a job.  It’s a real quandary, I tell you.  I’d love to see him suffer (hey, I’m only human!) but I’m beginning to think that if he suffers the kids and I will suffer as well.  What to do…. What to do….