Welcome to the Jungle, Part 3

Note:  This is the third part of the story.  Here is Part 1, and here is Part 2.  As always, I am as truthful as the information given to me.  Some information is thanks to Google, some due to her husband, and some I have directly experienced.

Harley’s bio will be brief.  She’s been arrested at least 3 times according to my Google search- once for writing bad checks, once for failure to appear, and the third arrest is a mystery.  I have no idea why she was in that time.  Her husband has pretty much accused her of being an alcoholic and says she has a savior complex.  She is going to be getting her money’s worth with Cousinfucker.  Her husband also said she was sending “inappropriate pictures” to the neighbor this past summer.  This neighbor was quite perturbed when she began a full fledged affair with my husband but they are now once again “friends”.  I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she’s sending him “inappropriate” pictures once again. Oh yes, and she is, according to her husband, still having sex with him.  Isn’t she just the cutest thing ever?

Harley’s most favorite thing to do besides screw married men, is to block people on Facebook. She blocked me the first time around when Cousinfucker came back from Jezebel’s wedding.  He told her about the pictures I had around the house.  She told him she thought that was strange and then promptly blocked me.  After DDay I remember telling CF that blocking me was a stupid move because it put her on my radar.  Gradually I came to realize that was exactly the purpose.  I believe she blocked me hoping to incite a divorce.  I think she figured once she blocked me I would realize they were still involved and I would either be so livid I would throw him out, or I would confront him and demand that he choose between us and he would, of course, choose her.

This last time she set her sights on my daughter.  Rock Star (my new name for my daughter) laid into her dad because of Harley’s insipid message on Facebook about missing him.  He defended the whore and Rock Star ended up sending him a screenshot of her rambling.  He must have said something to the whore because she ultimately ended up blocking my child so that she could no longer see what was being written and “tattle” to her dad.

Looking back on their first affair and her subsequent actions I believe Harley is a manipulative, deceptive, gold digging whore.  As Rock Star says about her Facebook page:  It’s like she wants a Twitter account but doesn’t know how to operate it.  Rock Star has actually said she sometimes felt like she was reading a high school mean girl’s Facebook page back in those days before the whore blocked her.  I did a little research and found out that she didn’t start communicating in earnest with any of Zack’s family until after he dumped her the first time.  After that she couldn’t comment on pages enough.  She was everybody’s friend and she was always front and center.  And now, since the exhumation of this great romance, she has added on pretty much all the family members on Cousinfucker’s father’s side of the family. Let’s add attention whore to her resume, shall we?  My favorite part, though, was finding out from Tammy Faye that Harley had called her and checked on her several times after Zack dumped her the first time.  What a brazen bitch!

Here are some more priceless gems from Harley: The first time she and Zack were involved she kept leaving her phone out so that it would be found by her husband.  Now, I don’t know that she intentionally, or even subconsciously, left it out, but how stupid do you have to be to get caught TWICE?  Once again, I think she was hoping her husband would do her dirty work.  The second time she was discovered (again, still the first time they were involved) Zack asked her what she was going to do since her husband (I shall call him The Saint) knew they were involved again.  Harley’s loving response:  I’m not going to do anything.  I don’t care if he knows.

Much like Zack lied to her about his marriage and how awful and evil I am Harley has lied to him about The Saint.  Now, keep in mind this is a story Zack shared with me when we were “reconciling”.  She apparently told him that The Saint, a stay at home dad for over ten years, had put her into bankruptcy three times. I would bet money this came about when Zack was whining about how I spent all of his money.  When DDay #2 came along and The Saint was willing to talk to me I asked him point blank if that was true. Was poor, little Harley working 60-80 hours a week, working her poor whorish little fingers to the bone while that big bad Saint recklessly spent her money?  Turns out, according to him, they filed bankruptcy once- because a business they started up failed.  I again, point blank, asked him, “So you weren’t out there spending all her money, putting her in the poorhouse?”  He laughed and told me Harley didn’t even know what a budget was and that she and their daughter spent money like it was water.  I guess that explains the arrest for writing bad checks!  And why she was so eager to get down on her knees and suck her cousin’s dick.  She’s going to make all of her and her kids’ dreams come true, one blow job at a time, all the while managing to stay out of jail!

 

Welcome to the Jungle, Part 2

Note:  This is the second part of the story.  To see the first part, click here.  And once again all these stories have been told to me by Zack, or members of Zack’s family.  If they are not true accounts that is because lying liars who lie lied to me.

Incidentally, that is not his real name but I also know he hates the name.  Always said it reminded him of the kid on Saved By the Bell and he hated him for some reason.  I really wanted to name my son Zachary but he wouldn’t hear of it.  All because of that kid on Saved By the Bell.  Well guess what, asshole?  Now YOUR name is Zack!  Doesn’t Harley and Zack have a nice ring to it?  I’m trying to take the potty mouth down a notch so I may start referring to him as Zack on occasion instead of Cousinfucker all the time.

Now let’s get a little freakier!  I’ve made mention of my STBX-SIL, aka Jezebel.  Where do we start?  Again, something simple and easy to digest.  The first time I ever met Jezebel the entire family had plans to go to a Mexican restaurant.  Jezebel brought Chinese food with her into this Mexican restaurant.  She didn’t really want Mexican so she called to see if she could bring her own food.  I had never heard of such a thing.  That should have been my first clue that good ol’ Jezzy didn’t play by ordinary people’s rules.  She, like Cousinfucker, was very, very special.

This is the sister who loves to talk about how much she just loves her brother.  Pictures are worth a thousand words and she lives her life in pictures.  I think the happiest day of her life was when Facebook allowed you to have a profile picture AND a cover picture.  Now she could switch out 2 pictures all the time, instead of just one!  Seriously, I had to stop following her even when I did like her because I couldn’t stand the constant changing of her profile and cover pictures.  We get it!  You’re pretty.  Everyone tells you exactly how pretty.  We also get that you are madly in love with Husband #3 and have a new found love of all things outdoors.  Hey- could I see yet another picture of you hanging onto the “love of your life” or you dressed up in camouflage?  If you judged her by her Facebook and Instagram photos you would think she has a picture perfect life.  Reality is she couldn’t be bothered to actually visit her brother once in the last ten plus years (I’ll give her a break and stop counting once he began his incestuous affair with the whore).  In 21 years of us being together she visited 6 times- 4 of those times were for something other than just coming to see us.  She made a huge deal about CF being at her wedding and then spent probably less than 30 minutes with him the entire weekend; in fact, he’s not in a single wedding picture and if he’s to be believed (which is debatable) he wasn’t in any of the pictures because she sent him on a liquor run before the wedding and he almost missed her getting married. $500 for a plane ticket.  $500 for one stupid weekend and she sends him out to get more liquor and he almost misses the ceremony.  Nice.

Similarly, she’ll tell you how much she loves and misses her niece and nephew and it just tears her up inside to think she’ll never get to see them again but does she do anything to foster a relationship with them?  That would be a big fat no.  Aside from telling my daughter how pretty she is (before my daughter blocked her on all social media) and how she takes after Aunt Jezebel she does nothing.  They both have cell phones and email addresses.  Does she reach out to them?  No, not even a text and definitely not a phone call.  Has she ever offered to fly them out to her for a visit?  No.  Even offered to come and drive them back with her?  Again, no.  We already know that visiting them is not something she does because she hadn’t visited our home since my son was a baby and he’s now 13. No, she expected ME to bring them to HER and then after stabbing me in the back repeatedly she whines that I’m somehow keeping the kids from her.  Her relationship with her dear niece and nephew was always about convenience.   To be fair, she would always make the time to see them once or twice whenever I would bring the kids to them; however, she never went out of her way to have a relationship with either one of them.

She’s also the one who begged him to leave me.  Yet, despite my apparent mistreatment of him, when he voluntarily committed himself, due in part to her talking him into it, she did not once come visit him.  No, she left that up to me- the evil wife.  Then again, she had just spent two weeks with her new father-in-law who was hospitalized.  Of course, he lives in a state she likes to visit and they always have lots of fun things planned for her.  Lots of Facebook and Instagram picture opportunities to show off her wonderful new life!  Plus, her new husband’s family hasn’t caught on to her yet so they still think she’s fabulous.

If you look closely enough you’ll soon realize that everything she puts out for the world to see is about how much she is loved, what wonderful things other people are doing for her, what delightful goodies have been purchased for her.  My mom pointed this out to me once.  She said:  I see an awful lot about what her new husband is doing for her, but I never see anything about what she’s done for him.  ’Tis true.  There is an awful lot about how this person did this for her and this person did that. To be fair though she did post about surprising her new fiancé with a helicopter tour for his birthday.  That this came right after the delivery of our $5 Christmas gifts, along with the explanation that she’s a poor, struggling single mom, was simple misfortune.

Oh, but this is all about what a freak show they are, right?  How’s this- Jezebel loves to sing.  She is a Christian singer.  Of course.  Years ago she didn’t just sing in church. She used to sing at weddings, at other churches, and in a group; she even recorded several albums/CDs.  At one point, probably when she was starting out, she had a high school student who would play piano for her when she went off to sing.  This kid had a crush on her.  He ended up asking her to prom and she accepted.  What’s so strange about that?  Well, for starters she was married.  There was also the fact that she was in her 20s.  I’m surprised she didn’t try to get her name put in for Prom Queen.  I know when I was 22 and freshly graduated from college my biggest wish in life was to go to prom with a high school senior.  Wasn’t it yours?  The only thing that could possibly make it any dreamier would be if my husband helped me to pick out my prom dress and then sat alone at home, lovingly waiting for my return.  From my date.  To the prom.  With a teenage boy.  Who is not my husband.  Just an FYI in case anyone wants to get all technical and legal here:  I do not know if her husband did indeed help her pick out her prom dress.  I don’t even know if he was sitting at home waiting for her to return.  Hell, come to think of it I’m not even sure why he allowed it!  I’m not one for asking permission to do things, even from my husband; however, I think putting your foot down and sternly telling your wife that you do not approve of her going out on a date, even if it is to prom and is undoubtedly the teenage boy’s biggest night of his life what with scoring a date with another man’s wife and all, is acceptable in this case.  I can definitely get behind someone drawing a line in the sand for that one.  The funny thing is when this story was recounted by my MIL to my mom she was the one to say, “WTF?”  She asked my MIL point blank, “Wasn’t she embarrassed to be going to prom with a teenager at her age?”  My MIL looked at her and was suddenly all, “Yes.  Yes, she was.”  No, no she wasn’t.  She was in her glory.  I’m sure all attention was on her, just the way she likes it.

Later in life when she was the lead Praise & Worship singer she ended up beginning an affair with the pastor.  Once upon a time she swore it was only an emotional affair.  Who knows if that is true.  What I do know, according to STBX-MIL, is that they opened a freaking bank account together!  He took up a collection *at church* to help pay for her divorce.  He bought her a washing machine and dryer.  He went to a couple that had left the church when this came to light and he denied the affair, told them it was wrong to judge her, and ultimately ended up guilting them into coming back to the church.  They felt so guilty they apologized for believing the rumors and judging her, and actually gave her money for her vacation!  She, of course, took it and then spent her vacation communicating with the good pastor.  They didn’t have Facebook or Skype back then and texting wasn’t common, but they communicated through whatever means were popular at the time.   She herself preferred bringing up the rumor and then denying it.  It was a sweet little gig.  She would say:  I know you’ve probably heard I’m boning our pastor but I want you to know it’s not true!  She was also very offended at the idea that she should step down as one of the youth group leaders- something she did with her betrayed husband.

Here’s something interesting.  Jezebel believed people who gossiped about this were jealous of her because she had the courage to leave her husband and find someone who made her happy.  As she told me once, “I’d rather have 20 great years with Husband #2, than 50 so so years with Original Husband.”  Oh, did I mention he was 20 years older than her?  That’s why she was only giving their marriage 20 years.  He was the same age as her mother.  I remember hearing her friends gush about how they had never seen her happier, and at the wedding they talked about their champagne flutes that were engraved “MVBF”- My Very Best Friend.  Isn’t that so romantic?  True love, folks.  Who cares if you have to step over a few people to achieve your bliss?  She broke the heart of her husband of 13 years.  She also had two young children at the time and wasn’t afraid to throw their lives into turmoil.  He threw away a 20 or 25 year marriage and a rather large church.  Membership was somewhere between 800 and 1000 people.  It was thriving.  The church membership paid all of his bills- mortgage, cell phone, utilities, car, insurance. In addition to all that he received an actual salary.  They sent him and his wife away on vacation every year.  They were building an addition on to their church.  I’m sure Jezebel thought she was going to waltz right in and simply take over where the former wife left off.  Didn’t work out that way, though.  People are funny like that sometimes.  They don’t appreciate their pastor getting it on with the praise and worship leader while telling them trick-or-treating on Halloween and watching Disney movies with magic in them is a sin.   He ended up losing it all, which meant Jezebel didn’t walk into the life of luxury she thought this man could provide for her.  Their bills were not all paid by the church; they weren’t being sent away on vacation every year.  They didn’t receive gifts and accolades from all the adoring members of the congregation.  For years they struggled financially, even losing their house.  Finally, a few years before the end, he got a great paying job.  Unfortunately, it took him on the road a lot and that meant he could no longer iron her clothes or cut up her food for her or spend hours a day gazing at her and telling her how beautiful and wonderful she was.  He didn’t feel like running around all weekend long after being gone all week, and he was no longer entertaining her and making life fun every moment.  In short, she just wasn’t happy.

Approximately ten years after the wedding Jezebel begins an affair with another man.  Hey- at least this time her affair partner wasn’t married!  Give her a little credit.  She carries on this affair for almost a year before asking for a divorce.  I got to sit and listen to her talk for hours about how she wasn’t cheating on her husband but he was so jealous and had accused her of infidelity and would check up on her, how she didn’t think she’d ever get married again; she was so excited to be living on her own because she’d never done that before.  Turns out the night before when she and my husband went out to dinner alone (yes, I was excluded so they could have their precious brother/sister time) they met up with her new husband-to-be so she could introduce them.  Yes, she was offended because her husband was jealous and suspicious.  It’s kind of like the cashier who’s stealing from the register being butt hurt because you installed surveillance cameras above the register.  How dare you accuse me of stealing?!?!

What’s that you say, Sam?  You were left at home with the mother-in-law and kids while your husband and his sister went out to dinner together for some special “brother/sister bonding”?  Why, yes, I was!  Seems that approximately a year prior to this Jezebel was telling her brother all about her affair, swearing him to secrecy.  After all, if your brother is telling you what a disaster his marriage is the best thing you can do is ask him to keep secrets from his wife while you tell him all about your affair with this new man. The affair and new man that are both making you so happy and gosh darn it, you deserve some happiness.  They went out to dinner, supposedly just the two of them, to talk about all sorts of things that were on poor Jezebel’s mind.  Turns out she wanted his opinion on Farmer John.  Somehow this was supposed to make me feel better.  “Oh, she wasn’t excluding you; she just wanted my opinion on what type of guy he was and if he was playing her,” he explained later when this finally came to light.  What type of guy he is?  He’s the type of guy that will fuck another man’s wife!  That’s what kind of guy he is!  But, you know, since Jezebel is perfectly willing to fuck another guy while she’s married to her first affair partner, that probably isn’t something she cares about!  That probably should have been a big clue for me- when your husband says the guy that is cheating with his sister seems like a decent guy.  No, he’s really not.  If you’re willing to fuck another man’s wife you have a serious character flaw.  I also loved how he couldn’t possibly give an honest opinion on what this guy was like if *I* was around.  Seriously?  Are you going to be so distracted by my fabulous rack that you can’t possibly assess his character deficiencies?  Is my beauty so stunning that it will block any telepathic messages you might receive about this guy?  Am I simply so mesmerizing that you can’t have a simple conversation with the guy and give an honest assessment of him to your cheating sister if I’m there?  Or, do you know this is all wrong and I’m the only person in your life with a moral compass?  Oh, I think we’ve got a winner!

But the best part was hearing how she was crazy about this man.  He was everything she wanted and she loved her new life- the hunting, the farm life, the four wheeling, the two new kids.  He was her best friend and the love of her life; he was spectacular and did everything he could to make her happy.  Look- he built me a fire pit!  Look- he bought me a car!  Look at my stupid wedding in a fucking barn because I’m just a simple country girl!  Her friends once again gushed about how happy she looked and how they had never seen her happier.  Eerie, isn’t it?  Almost the exact same story word for word as when she was leaving the original husband for Husband #2.  Including the part where she told Husband #2:  I know you think I’m having an affair but I’m not!

In a sad twist of irony The Original Husband died.  Personally, from the things Jezebel said when she was lying to me about her impending divorce from Husband #2, I believe she was already involved with Husband #3 and The Original Husband’s death allowed her to get out of her marriage to Husband #2. I think she didn’t want him to know she had made a mistake and didn’t want him to witness her second divorce. That might be humiliating.  It also gave her a great excuse to distance herself from Husband #2 because he didn’t understand her grieving.  Yes, if you weren’t aware of what had happened you would think Jezebel was the grieving widow. She was at the funeral home, in the receiving line even, I believe, the entire time. Someone told me she insisted on sitting up front with the family during his funeral. And I know for a fact that she had the audacity to yell at his actual widow because Jezebel didn’t think she was showing enough emotion. How’s that for lady balls? You cheat on your husband, leave him for your pastor  (who acted as a marriage counselor for the two of you!), and when he dies you take over the role of the widow and reprimand his wife for not loving him enough! Oy. And vey!

And in case you’re wondering about the pastor he was wise to his cheating wife’s ways.  I think he could see the writing on the wall. Afterall, he had been the other man when she was cheating on her first husband. He was remarried within a month or two after their divorce.  Jezebel was pissed.  Come to think of it, her first husband also remarried before she did.  Of course, since she was marrying her married lover that divorce took a little longer so they weren’t able to get married as quickly as they had hoped.

The good news is I think this guy actually has money, or at least his family does.  She’s married for money twice before and the joke ended up being on her both times- she didn’t live the life of luxury she thought she was going to lead.  I think this time she actually got it right.  If not, she’ll be changing from Rambo Barbie into someone else in about 6-8 years.  Her marriages usually last somewhere between 10-13 years.  Good luck, Farmer John!

 

Why I Don’t Talk to Him

I really wish I had a better title for this, but I don’t. I have received a lot of crap from people, mainly family, about me not going out of my way to confront Cousinfucker.  My brother once declared, “This is going to the quietest divorce in history.”  Yes, it may be.  But is that a bad thing?

I’m going to try to explain why I haven’t yelled and screamed and otherwise confronted him.

  1. I’m not a big confrontational person.  Oh, believe me, I can get crazy stupid when I’ve been pushed but that doesn’t happen too often.  I’m usually very good at being able to ignore it and walk away.  I couldn’t confront him when I first found out because I was getting my ducks lined up so I couldn’t let on I knew.  And after I did confront him I was asked if I was still going to make spaghetti.  I’ll admit; that one left me (and the lawyer) speechless.
  2. When I have had more than I can take then I am simply done with you or with the situation.  Some people have this need to confront the person, to let them know what they’ve done wrong or how they’ve hurt them; they want to make them feel bad, or perhaps have them apologize.  I don’t.  My only concern is in getting out of a toxic situation or away from a toxic person.  I don’t care if you understand.  I don’t care if you agree.  I don’t care if you think you’re still right and I’m wrong.  I don’t care if you think I’m being ridiculous.  I don’t care if I’ve changed your mind or made you feel guilty or put you in your place.  I’m. Done.  Once I reach that point it is far better if we simply part ways because I am now officially in “Crazy, Stupid” territory.
  3. They don’t care!  I have no doubt that Cousinfucker would not give a single fuck if I yelled at him until I was hoarse.  I am equally sure that Harley has absolutely no shame and does not care at all about the destruction she has helped cause.  Me yelling and screaming at CF will do nothing.  He’s not suddenly going to say, “Sam, you are so right!  I have been acting like a giant ass!  What can I do to make it up to you and the kids?”  Why waste my breath?  As I said, it will do nothing except….
  4. Feed his ego!  OK, that should probably be a full sentence but it’s not.  Here’s a full sentence for you.  Yelling and screaming at him just feeds his ego.  It tells him he still gets to me.  He is still important.  He still has some power over me.  From reading Chump Lady I have learned that one of the worst things you can do for this type of person is ignore him/her.  I refuse to give him the satisfaction of thinking he still gets to me.  I’m not above making a snarky comment, and I have no problem pushing him on things, like pointing out in a straight forward manner that if he’s got money to blow on Harley’s kids then he’s got money to spend on his own kids!  But aside from that I will not engage.  He is nothing to me and I don’t wish to be the one feeding his ego.  Let Harley do that; he’s her problem now.
  5. Right from Chump Lady’s handbook:  I refuse to be the hypotenuse to their triangle!  You’ve probably all heard the dangers of trying to stand in the way of young love and how it just makes them want to be together even more.  It’s the same with cheater love.  They need to feel like it’s them against the world (or at least me).  If I’m yelling and screaming, tossing his crap out onto the lawn, calling up his boss, and pulling a Carrie Underwood on his car then it’s very easy to triangulate this three person relationship.  They’re in it against me.  As an added bonus he can point to my behavior and say:  See?  I told you she was crazy (mean, uncaring, unloving, whatever unflattering adjective he can find).  Look at what all I have to put up with!  Isn’t she just awful?  This way they are left in their relationship with only each other.  They can’t ever say that things will get better once his crazy ex-wife stops harassing them because the crazy ex-wife has never been part of the picture.  If their relationship takes a crap (and seeing as how she is supposedly still sleeping with her husband I can definitely see where things might go wrong) they will have to examine their own actions because it won’t be anything I’ve said or done.  They are two fucked up individuals; he is a miserable human being who will never be happy and is an entitled shit eating chimp that is constantly changing the goal posts on what will make him happy.  She, on the other hand, is a deceitful, manipulative, gold digging white trash whore.  They are both lying liars who lie and cheating cheaters who cheat.  It’s only a matter of time before this house of cards comes crashing down.  As long as I’m out of the picture they’ve got to deal with one another and not focus on me.
  6. Finally, actions speak louder than words.  It’s good advice when wondering whether you should reconcile with your spouse who says he/she is sorry.  It’s also good advice when dealing with a spouse you’re divorcing.  I’m keeping my mouth shut and not giving away anything.  Instead of yelling and screaming at him, telling him what an utterly worthless piece of pig shit he is I simply filed for divorce, and am making him pay a lot of spousal and child support.  I’m not sure anything gets the message across quite like being served with divorce papers.

Let’s All Praise Jesus- Harley is Happy!

 

I don’t do a lot of pain shopping anymore.  I did the first time around.  I was obsessed.  I told myself I was keeping an eye on her so I would be prepared. And to a certain extent I think that was true.  I questioned why she would be praying for my husband when he was hospitalized.  I wondered why she suddenly had such a philanthropic bent towards soldiers with PTSD.  But it didn’t fully prepare me.  And honestly, a lot of it was because she was so stupid with the shit she would say.  It was easy to make fun of her.  Hell, it’s still easy to make fun of her.  But for some reason, this time around when I found out I was just done.  I don’t give a shit what she’s doing or what she’s posting or how her “wonderful, blessed” life is playing out.  I know she’s a lying, deceitful, manipulative, white trash whore.  According to her own husband they’re still sleeping together.  I say, “Ha ha, Cousinfucker.  What did you expect?”  I knew he wasn’t her first rodeo.  Hell, I knew he wasn’t going to be her last rodeo!  And if someone had asked me to place a bet I would bet he wasn’t going to be her *only* rodeo.  So there!

Anyway, back to pain shopping.  For those of you who don’t know what that is it refers to looking for/at things that are going to hurt you or bring you pain.  I originally thought it was actual shopping done out of anger and hurt.  I was so wrong.  It’s looking for shit that is going to bring you pain.  Interacting with the OW.  Sending emails or texts.  Confronting her.  Looking up the OW’s Facebook page, Twitter feed, Instagram, Pinterest… whatever you may have access to.  I guess you could even add on mutual friend’s accounts as well, if those pages/feeds are going to give you ammunition with which you will hurt yourself.  None of that for me anymore.  Or at least not much.  I’m human; I get curious.

I think it was around Thanksgiving.  I wanted to see if she had given me any more ammunition for my divorce hearing (or so I told myself).  The answer was no, she hadn’t, although she did have a new profile picture up and I got to see all of my former in-laws gushing all over the whore.  “You’re so pretty!”  “You’re beautiful!”  “You can suck a golf ball through a garden hose!”  OK, that last one wasn’t on there.  That was me being mean.  My STBX-MIL tells her that she just keeps looking better and better.  That’s funny because my daughter says she looks about 50 (no offense to those of you who are 50; my daughter is 15 and thinks anyone over the age of 20 is old) even though she’s actually younger than I am and she’s constantly saying how ugly she thinks her father’s mistress is.  Maybe it’s because my daughter sees her personality and that plays a large part.  Regardless, after my STBX-MIL gushes all over this waste of human skin she replies back that it’s because she’s happy.

Oh joy!  Harley is happy!  Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief now, can’t we?  The whore is happy!  Apparently she is happy with a part time lover, a man who lives hours away from her and can’t spend the day to day with her.  She’s happy fucking a married man, knowing without a doubt that he is married and has kids.  She’s happy despite the fact that the supposed love of her life has no relationship with his kids and they hate him due to this happiness inducing relationship.  That doesn’t bother her.  She’s happy spending weekends only with this piece of shit and watching him drive back to his wife, his kids, his home.  Perhaps that is part of the allure:  They get to keep the fantasy alive because he’s NOT there day in and day out.  She doesn’t have to do his laundry, make his dinner, put up with his mood swings.  And he doesn’t have to help with the day to day chores of taking care of FOUR kids.  Hell, he couldn’t manage two and they were his.  It’s all sex and “I’m so happy to see you!”  Yeah, because you only have to deal with him on a very limited basis.  Plus, you’re fucking other men.  Yes, Harley is happy.  Happy, happy, happy with this whole fucked up arrangement.

Hey, do you wanna know who isn’t happy, Harley?  Not that you care, of course, you flaming turd shot straight out of Satan’s ass (again, thank you Chump Princess, commenter from Chump Lady).  Your lover’s kids aren’t happy.  Yeah, you heard me.  They’re not happy.  I know you don’t give a shit about them.  Asking CF how he thought you would all get along was about as far as your concern extended, and when you realized, you pus sucking whore, that my kids would have NOTHING to do with you, you wrote them off.  More for you.  More for your kids, the ones who take money that should be going to my kids, and then trash talk him behind his back.  You couldn’t care less about my kids and what you and Daddy Dearest took from them.  My daughter was on track to be a college gymnast and her father killed those dreams with his (and your) selfish desire to get us across the country.  My son had to abandon the only sport he really loved along with playing the cello, also something he really loved.  Again, so dear daddy could get in your pants more easily. Do you want to know who else isn’t happy?  Me!  I’m not happy.  I’m not happy that my selfish, entitled, PTSD-faking waste of oxygen couldn’t sack up two years ago and leave with your lying, slutty ass and instead chose to lie and deceive and systematically dismantle my life and those of my children.  Here are some more people who aren’t happy:  My mother, my brother (who incidentally loved CF like his own brother), my sister-in-law, my nieces, my nephews, my friends from Utah who are beyond pissed that he moved us all away only to abandon us, my high school besties, my mom’s friends, our neighbors, the kids’ teachers…. I could go on and on.

Oh, but YOU are happy.  Yes, that is the most important thing.  Never mind that YOUR happiness came at our expense.  Never mind that despite how happy you supposedly are you’re still screwing your husband (according to him, of course).  I’m sure your children are all happy, too.  Then again, my husband is throwing boatloads of money at you and at them, buying them anything and everything they want, while neglecting his own children.  Your kids don’t have to worry about moving or changing schools.  Your daughter isn’t going to have to worry about attending her senior year at a different high school.  I’m sure your daughter isn’t having anxiety attacks all the time and none of your sons are crying because they hate where they live, thanks to my husband and the two of you conspiring.  Oh, no!  Things are all coming up roses for you and your bunch!  It’s only me and my children who are paying the price for your happiness.  Yes, you see, Cousinfucker can buy an expensive purebred dog for your four kids while he couldn’t be bothered to give me enough money to pay for dog food and cat food for the pets we already have.  He can’t seem to come up with $80-$100 for a Homecoming dress for his own daughter and yet he can somehow spend over $300 on a dress for your daughter.  Interesting.

Yes, it’s very interesting how you and everyone in his fucked up family concentrate solely on his and possibly your happiness while ignoring everything else around them.  No one can seem to put two and two together and rationalize that, “Hey, maybe that’s the reason his kids are pissed, and Sam has nothing to do with it!”  You are such a disgusting, gold-digging piece of white trash that you don’t even care that your “happiness” is being achieved at the expense of your lover’s children.  Of course you don’t; you’re out to get everything you can.  Hey, I guess if he doesn’t care about them, why should you, huh?

In the spirit of the not so distant Christmas season I have this wish for you, Harley:  May you get EVERYTHING you so richly deserve.  And Cousinfucker, may you, too, get EVERYTHING you so richly deserve.  Much HAPPINESS to you both!

You Kept Him Sane For Twenty Years

I have always loved the irony of his sister declaring that he deserved better than me.  Yes, I was wrong and crazy and she was so sorry he was so miserable.  She begged him to leave me.  Begged him!

Let’s see- he has been a fairly shitty father and partner.  He’s been more interested in watching television than in participating in our lives.  He sucks all of the oxygen out of the room with HIS needs and all others can go fuck themselves.  He’s got “anxiety issues” and “PTSD” and “social anxiety”.  Oh hey, let’s add excessive drinking to the list now.

I spent holidays alone.  I made cross country trips with the kids all by myself.  I took our kids to see his side of the family. I took care of 99% of anything having to do with the kids- school drop offs and pick ups, extracurriculars drop offs and pick ups, conferences, homework, signing papers and logs, writing checks for lunch money and pictures.  You name it, I did it. I fixed his plate for him every night.  I made breakfast every weekend, or at the very least I would run out to get something.  The few times I would go out with friends I made dinner for him or picked something up for him instead of making him fend for himself and the kids.  I did his laundry. I hung his damn clothes up and put the rest of them away.  I shopped for clothes for him.  I made his doctor’s appointments, psychiatrist appointments, therapy appointments, and went to them with him.  I picked up his prescriptions.  I took in his dry cleaning.  I spent countless hours in the hospital with him because, you know, every illness was a major disaster.  I moved all over this country for him, supporting him in his career.  I was his biggest cheerleader.  Did I forget something?  Oh yes!  He CHEATED ON ME WITH HIS COUSIN!

But somehow he deserves better.  I am the one doing him wrong.  Perhaps I didn’t put his food on his favorite plate.  Perhaps I didn’t use the laundry detergent he preferred.  Hell, I suppose my biggest fault was that I simply did not and would not pretend that he hadn’t done what he did!  How DARE I not forget his “little” emotional affair?  How dare I continue to be hurt by the fact that his entire family was stabbing me in the back?  How dare I?

This is the funny part.  After twenty years with this guy I had come to believe I owned part of this, that perhaps there was something I could have done differently.  Currently, there have been many times I wondered if there were things I could have done differently (like not moving my ass across the country for him this last time!).  But as a wise, dear old friend pointed out to me, “Listen, I think a lot of what he says is bullshit.  I think he was messed up long before you came along.  You just kept him sane for 20 years.  Hat’s off to you!  Most wouldn’t have stuck around.  You should be proud of yourself.  Not blaming yourself.”  Hell, my own daughter has said, “Kudos to you, Mom; I don’t know how you put up with him as long as you did. I’d have left him long ago!”

Yes, let’s see how long dear sister and enabling mommy and his gold digging whore manage to keep him sane now that I’m no longer in the picture.

Funerals & Other Romantic Dates

CF took his whore to a funeral this summer.  I know what you’re thinking:  How romantic!  Ironically, our daughter really wanted to go with him because she wanted to see her grandparents.  Of course, Daddy Dearest couldn’t take her because that would interfere with him fucking his whore that weekend. And yet, I would bet money that the narrative everyone is spinning is that *I’m* the one keeping the kids away from them.

Anyway, I digress.  The whore originates from his mom’s side of the family. This funeral was for a member of the family on his dad’s side.   I have slowly come to realize that the whore has become “friends” on FB with many members of his family who were at this funeral.

Can I just take a moment to say, “What the fuck, people?”  At the time this happened we were married!!!!  Hell, we’re still married so let me rephrase. At the time this happened I had no idea he was fucking the whore!  At the time this happened I thought we were happily married, albeit dealing with a shitload of his problems, and I was ready to face the world and my new life thousands of miles away from my friends head-on.  Not only does the motherfucker take a whore to a family funeral, instead of taking his actual family, knowing I have no clue what’s going on, but everyone there welcomes her with open arms instead of saying, “What the fuck are you doing?  Have you lost your damn mind?”  Oh yeah, and maybe, “Where’s your wife?  Where are your kids?”

Look, I get it.  I’m just the piece of ass he fucked for the past twenty-one years.  I’m disposable, interchangeable, nothing special.  I’m certainly not family even after twenty-one years with him.  My kids, however, are!  Does no one give a flying fuck about them?  They are your blood and they are devastated by what their asshole father has done.  How do you welcome that home wrecking whore into your lives when you know what she has done to these kids?  Again, I get it.  He is your family and you’re certainly not going to turn him away for my benefit.  But is CF’s happiness so over the top important that nothing else matters?  Hey, don’t worry if two innocent children are destroyed.  The good news is their father is happy and that’s all that matters.  The sad, pitiful things they say to me make my heart hurt.  I’m a big girl.  I don’t give a shit about him anymore.  Anything and everything I ever felt for him died the minute I found out he was fucking around on me.  Again.  With the same fucking whore.  But my children had no idea.  My children loved their father.  All my son wanted was for his dad to “get better” so they could play video games and go fishing and build the media room that we had talked about when we moved.  My daughter wanted her dad’s attention.  She wanted him to see her at meets and games, doing her thing, and cheering her on.  They wanted HIM.  They wanted his time and his attention.  Both of which he is now giving to kids that are not his.  They are both shitting all over these two kids and not a one of you has enough of a moral compass to stand up and say:  I’m not going to support this.  This is wrong.  You don’t bring your whore to a funeral.  (Seriously, folks, does that even need to be said?  I would think that would be a given, but obviously not.  What kind of a sick fuck brings his whore to a funeral?  What kind of sick whore gets off on being paraded in front of his family during a time of mourning?)

You, M., you’ve lost both of your children.  Do you know that CF is voluntarily abandoning his own children?  What would you give to switch places with him?  To have your own kids back?  Your kids are dead; you will never get to see them again.  You will never have moments with them again.  CF’s kids are alive and well.  And he’s sloughing them off like dead skin.  They are no longer important now that she’s around.  How do you not itch to slap him silly?   How do you stand by and watch him desert his kids when you know what it’s like when you no longer have your kids around?

You, E., you’ve sat there and corresponded with me, acting like nothing is wrong.  I wondered if he had gotten up the guts to tell you and your husband what he was doing, but I now know you’ve known all along.  You’ve been nice to my face but treating me like an idiot behind my back.  You have befriended the whore that helped rip apart my kids’ lives.  You are condoning what CF and the whore are doing.

You, G., you have a daughter that you weren’t able to raise but you have never dismissed her as nothing.  You stay in contact.  She’s important to you.  You’re watching CF act like his kids mean nothing, watching as he throws his entire life away.

Hell, maybe these kids mean nothing to him after all; maybe that’s why he finds it so easy to walk away.  Who knows?  I’m sure he would tell everyone who would listen that he loves them with all of his heart and would probably follow that up with, “Their mother is turning them against me.”  Because he’s always a victim.  He’s a cheater and a liar, but he’s the real victim.  Always.  In other breaking news, in CF’s world Charles Manson was the real victim in the Helter Skelter murders, Osama Bin Laden was the real victim on 9/11, Ariel Castro was the real victim in the Cleveland kidnappings, and ISIS is the real victim in the Paris terrorist attacks.

I’m sure everyone is very pleased that CF is finally happy.  It’s too bad that his happiness comes at the expense of the other three members of his family.  I’m not happy about this.  I didn’t move 2000 miles across the country, buy a new house and new furniture, and then put a pool in the backyard so that my husband could fuck a whore. I didn’t walk away from great friends and all my volunteer activities so my husband could fuck a whore either. My daughter isn’t happy about this.  He ripped away her dream of competing in gymnastics in college.  I even asked her recently, seeing all the good things she has here in this new place, would she trade it all for her life back in our former state.  She said yes without missing a beat.  Her passion for gymnastics was that deep, that she would give up everything she has here for a chance to have climbed to the top and competed at the highest level.  Then let’s add in the anxiety she is feeling to excel academically so that she can get a scholarship and I won’t be burdened by college expenses.  Yes, she is definitely not happy.  My son isn’t happy here either.  He complains all the time about the kids being stupid and mean; the sport he loved, hockey, is not offered here either so he has had to give that up.  He used to play in the orchestra but there is no orchestra here so instead he plays in the band.  He likes it, but would rather do orchestra.  He tells me all the time that he wishes we could move back to Utah so he could be with his friends and do the things he used to do.

He has ransacked these kids’ lives and no one seems to give a shit.  As long as he’s happy it’s all good.  Again, I know I don’t mean shit to any of you.  I was just his wife of twenty plus years; I’m totally replaceable.  But I thought someone would perhaps stand up for the two kids caught up in this mess created by CF and the whore, the two kids that are as much your relatives as CF.

The Days That I (Want To) Cry

Quick disclaimer: This entry was written a few months ago.  It is all still applicable today but since I made mention of Christmas I wanted to assure anyone reading this that I’m not already planning for Christmas 2016.  Enjoy!

I have prided myself on the fact that I have cried very little about the demise of my marriage.  I didn’t cry when her husband contacted me, once again, almost 2 years to the date he contacted me the first time.  I didn’t cry as I talked to him and felt my world crashing down.  I remember telling him, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.  We just bought this house.  We’ve bought all brand new furniture.  We just put a pool in the backyard.  My car is a year old.  I have no idea what I’m going to do.”  I didn’t cry when I found out he had spent months lying to me about sending money to his mom; instead he had funneled thousands to his mistress.  And that didn’t include any of the purchases he had made for her when he was with her. I didn’t cry as I called around to make appointments for consultations, or either of the days that I drove to the lawyer’s office and talked about that word that I never wanted to hear, breaking down almost 21 years of marriage to the barest of bones.  What are my options?  What am I looking at here?  Will I get spousal support?  Will I get custody of my kids or am I looking at joint custody? Will my kids have a say in whether or not they see him?  Can I stay in my house, the one we just moved to a year ago, or will I be forced to sell?  Can I leave the state if I’m destitute, seeing as how he moved us here only a year ago to get closer to his mistress?  Please tell me what’s going to happen to me and my kids.  I didn’t cry a few days later when I got confirmation that he was cheating on me with the same woman or when I found out he cashed in the rest of his stock and had it wired to an unknown by me account.  I didn’t even cry when I found out he was interviewing for a job in her state, which meant he would be leaving his own two kids behind.

No, I have held up well for the most part.  I cried when I told my kids, unable to keep his secret any longer.  You see, once he realized I knew what he was up to he didn’t even bother lying to me.  He would simply leave for the weekend.  When he would come home is anyone’s guess.  Sometimes it was early Monday morning, around 3 am.  Sometimes it wouldn’t be until Monday afternoon.  Lately, he seems to be returning sometime between 8 and 10 on Sunday.  He must be running out of vacation days.  Back to the story at hand.  I did cry when I told the kids.  My daughter burst into tears and covered her face with her hands.  My son who is only a young teen yet towers over me began sobbing onto my shoulder.  I was forced to admit that I had no answers.  I didn’t know what we were going to do.  I didn’t know where we were going to end up living.  I didn’t know if they would be able to finish out the school year in their current schools. I cried and I apologized again and again.  I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it work.  I’m so sorry I don’t have any more answers for you.  I’m so sorry you’re going through this; I never ever wanted this for you. My kids were hurting, dammit, and I hurt for them.  The person who was responsible for this destruction of life as they knew it was hundreds of miles away, enjoying life with his mommy, his cheating sister and her OM turned husband (this is the second one!) and his mistress and her kids.

I cried the day after being given just a little too much information.  Like the fact that my still husband put a deposit down on a ridiculously expensive dog for children that are not his own.  Like the fact that his mistress is wearing a diamond ring.  Like the fact he’s interviewing for yet another out of state job.  Like the fact that they’ve taken a few trips together.  Don’t misunderstand. I don’t want him. All feelings for him died when I learned what he did.  Again.  He ripped our lives apart and moved us 2000 miles across the country, taking us away from everything we had built the last eight years only to start screwing his skank of a cousin pretty much a year to the day that our furniture was delivered to our new house. Even blew off a family vacation with us to be with her.  Hearing those things hurt nonetheless.  As one of my friends put it, “He’s going about this in the cruelest way possible.”

No, the days I want to cry are the ones where I least expect it.  I wanted to cry when my daughter said her father wouldn’t miss them if they didn’t see him on Father’s Day.  “He’ll be too busy with his fake kids to miss us.”  I wanted to cry when my son told the therapist (before I knew anything about his affair) that his idea of a miracle would be his dad getting better and being able to play video games with him and doing things with all of us again.  Or when he said he’d like it if occasionally his dad would pop his head into his room and ask him how he was doing instead of him, the child, having to go to his dad any time he wanted to see him. Now he tells me he can’t trust his dad and he thinks that everything he’s been saying these past 6-9 months has been a lie so he could distance himself from us.  I want to cry every time I hear how jaded they sound.  It’s hasn’t been that long since they found out and already I hear in their voices, in their comments, how they have already given up on him.

I want to cry when I think of everything they are losing.  I never wanted this for them.  I tried so hard to keep this marriage together.  I forgave him two years ago.  I took responsibility for my own part in our crumbling marriage.  Note:  I fully realize I am not to blame for him choosing to have an affair.  My motto, based on a quote I saw, is:  I may be partly responsible for the void that exists in our marriage, but I will never assume responsibility for the way he chose to fill that void.  Amen! I made changes in my behavior.  I tried to be everything he wanted, but as always it was never enough.

Some days I think this is the worst possible time for them to witness their parents’ marriage implode.  They are both teenagers.  They have lived a life of comfort.  This past June, when my daughter told me she had grown out of all of her shorts from last year, I simply went to the mall and bought her new shorts, around $200 worth.  They’ve never been hungry.  They’ve never gone without.  All of their needs and pretty much most of their wants have been provided for.  They’ve had a stay at home mom all their life.  I’m available to chauffeur them around and attend their events and drop things off at the school if necessary.  And now, now that they are soon to be off to college they are going to know struggles.  My husband and I both grew up without much.  I thought we both didn’t want that for our kids.  I know I don’t want my kids to have to work 20 hours a week in order to be able to go out with friends or buy Christmas presents or buy things they need that I can no longer afford. I want them to be able to participate in sports and activities at school.  I want them to have a carefree existence.  There will be plenty of time for worry and bills and not being able to do what you want.  We made a conscious choice to pamper and indulge our children and now with only a few more years under our roof he is ripping that away from them and giving it to someone else’s kids.

I want to cry when I think about my kids having relationship issues because of what’s going on in their lives right now.  When I think of my beautiful, smart daughter possibly doing stupid things because of “daddy issues”.  When I think of my handsome, talented son potentially treating women like his father has treated me.  When I think of either of them having relationship problems because of their father and his infidelity, being unable to trust or worse yet, hurting the people they love before they can be hurt.  I sincerely hope that they both choose to do things differently than he did.  I hope that my son will look at how his father has acted pretty much his entire life and choose to be an active, involved father instead of one who is constantly blowing off his kids and retreating to the silence of his room.  I hope my daughter will pick a man who will be a true partner to her, instead of letting her carry the load.  Someone who participates in life with her, goes places with her, celebrates holidays with her, parents their children together, spends time with her and their children instead of what she saw me put up with.  Hell, I hope the same thing for my son!  I hope both of them are able to look objectively at the relationship they saw modeled and reject it outright, searching for something better, something more complete.  But it still makes me sad when I hear either of them say, “He was never much of a dad to me anyway,” or “The only reason he went on vacation with us last year was because he was happy we were moving closer to his girlfriend.”  For the record, I do speak up and correct them on that, tell them that I don’t think he was involved with her with then.  But it doesn’t matter to them.

I want to cry when I think about how he’s putting on the performance of a lifetime and making pancakes for kids that already have an involved father.  How many times do you suppose he made pancakes or anything else for our kids?  If you guessed zero you would be correct!  He’s lavishing them with time, attention and gifts and my son says, “Mom, if you do remarry would you marry a guy that wants to be an involved dad?  I’ve never had one of those and I think it would be nice.”  THAT makes me want to cry and it breaks my heart.

I want to cry when I think about all the ruined relationships my kids are suffering through.  Everyone on his mother’s side of the family knows what they are doing.  They are all fine with it.  This has devastated my children.  As my son, so wise even at his young age, put it, “I can’t trust them anymore.”  My daughter has disowned them. Her first question to me was, “Does everyone down there know what he’s doing?”  Her second question, after I told her that yes, they did, was, “AND THEY’RE OKAY WITH THAT?” At their ages they understand the difference between right and wrong and they have clearly labeled having an affair as WRONG!  That is something my ex in-laws still haven’t mastered despite the fact they claim to be devout Christians. Perhaps their list of ten commandments reads:  Thou shalt not commit adultery… unless you really really like each other and feel you are soul mates. My little agnostic and atheist have more of a moral compass than those people do.  I guess you can do whatever you want and support whatever behavior you’d like so long as you faithfully attend church and don’t cuss or drink. Saying “fuck”?  That’s bad!  Actually fucking your cousin while you’re married to another woman?  That’s ok. Come to think of it, she’s married, too, so she’s cheating on her husband.  The kicker?  STBX FIL was the one who married them.  Too bad for them that they were all so busy telling my cheating husband (and his cheating whore as well, I’m sure) that his happiness was the only thing that mattered that they completely forget about his two kids, their grandchildren/niece and nephew.  But I’m sure it’s all my fault.  I’ve somehow turned them against them and in another world where up is down and down is up, where rain drops shoot up from the grass and grass hangs off of the clouds, where unicorns shoot rainbows out of their asses and I fart glitter out of mine, my kids wouldn’t care at all about the fact their family is breaking up and every one of their relatives on their father’s side had a ringside seat.

I want to cry when I think about Christmas.  How am I going to buy Christmas presents?  Am I still going to be able to do Elf on a Shelf?  I know, I know, they’re teenagers- way too old for that anymore.  But they enjoy it.  Last year Santa brought them MacBook Pros.  This year…. hopefully he can bring them something.  This will be the first year since I got married that I won’t have a stocking filled.  I told my husband right from the beginning that it was his job to fill my stocking every Christmas morning and he did.  I, of course, filled one for him as well.  I always decorated the inside of the house and he decorated the outside.  So this year we will have no decorations outside.  I’m sure I could figure it out if I needed to but I’m not very motivated, to be honest.  The other part that makes me want to cry?  I’m sure he’ll be busy decorating her house for her and her kids.  I try not to think like that very often because I know it does me no good; however, every so often those thoughts do creep into my mind.

I want to cry when I think back to how our house, for the first time in years, went undecorated for Halloween.  Oh, I’m sure he helped to decorate the hell out of her whorehouse.  But us?  Not a single outside decoration this year.  He also didn’t carve pumpkins for the kids.  The whore was gushing all over Facebook though about cute Halloween and pumpkin design ideas.  “Look, CF, power tools and pumpkins!” Isn’t she just the cutest thing?  Puke!  I’m sure he spent a blissful family weekend carving pumpkins for children that weren’t his own while he pretended his own children didn’t exist.  Oh, don’t you worry- my kids and I carved pumpkins on our own.  We carved the fuck out of those pumpkins!  They were glorious!  It still doesn’t excuse that vile creature for neglecting his kids.

I want to cry when I think about everything we’re leaving behind.  Our house is a year old.  I didn’t love it at first but it has grown on me.  Pair that with the fact that I’m not a big fan of moving and we’ve got a winning combination!  And did I mention we just put a brand new expensive inground pool into our backyard?  Yes, I’ve wanted one for years and years and when we agreed to make this move getting a pool was one of the conditions.  When we looked for houses one of the things we looked for was a backyard that would accommodate a pool.  We promised the kids we’d get one if the house didn’t already come with one.  Excavation began in the spring.  The pool wasn’t ready until August.  All summer long we waited for that thing.  I would console myself with the knowledge that we had many summers ahead of us in which we could enjoy that pool, all summer long.  Haha- joke’s on me.  I’m so glad we paid all of that money so we could use it for about 4 weeks.  Definitely worth it!  Did I also mention we bought pretty much all brand new furniture for this new house of ours?  Yes, we hadn’t bought new furniture in over eight years.  What we had was pretty ratty.  We bought a 4000 square foot home and bought new mattresses for both kids and the guest bed, new beds for the kids, new living room furniture, new formal living room furniture, a pie safe and a small end/sofa table for the dining room to even out the room, new coffee tables (which the husband insisted upon having), new end tables, new bar stools, a new cabinet for the laundry room, a new desk, and a new patio set for the enclosed porch. And a trampoline.  Later on we bought a foosball table, a dart board and an air hockey table for the basement.  Not to mention all the stuff you buy for the bathroom- new shower curtains, shower liner, hooks, rugs, towels, trash cans, toothbrush holders, etc.  Oh yes! In fact, we had four of those, although one is more aptly described as a powder room. And, since I had nothing to do in this new town I decided to make decorating my house my new hobby.  I’ve got decorations for every month except for the summer; I keep those up from June until mid September.  Now what do I do with all of this shit?  I know, I know.  It’s only stuff.  Don’t get attached.  I still want to cry though when I think about all of the money we wasted on this stuff that I stupidly thought meant something.

I want to cry when I think about how I wasted almost half of my life with him.  I can’t figure out which memories to ditch and which ones to keep.  I genuinely love Memphis, but can I ever think of it separately from him?  I plan on giving away my mugs from the islands where we honeymooned.  I don’t want them.  I’m planning on trashing the ornaments we received for our first Christmas and the ones we purchased on our honeymoon. Do I continue to root for the team he loved, the one we taught our kids to love, or do I cheer on another one, maybe an arch rival? There are so many memories (about 21 years worth!) and experiences that are due to him and I hate that! I think of vacations we took with him, and vacations we went on without him (his choice, of course).  I think of all the things that I’ve been able to do because he supported me financially, and all the things the kids and I have been able to do, for the same reason.  We’ve moved all over the country in order to support his career.  I’ve gained many friends and seen many places thanks to him, but I don’t feel like being grateful to him for any of that.  I sometimes think to myself:  Yes, I got to go through all of the crappy years with him.  I got to move all over the country for him.  I lived with him during the lean years.  And now, 21 years later, she doesn’t have to move.  She CAN’T move; her (ex)husband will never let her move with his kids.  He’s going to move to be closer to her (screw his kids- it won’t matter if he’s 6 or 8 hours away from them).  And she won’t be experiencing the lean years.  Oh no, he’s making big bucks now and he’s spending it wildly on her and her kids.  He said he felt like nothing more than a wallet to me and our kids, so what does he do?  He replaces me with a lying, manipulative gold digging whore who spends money like water and has an arrest record.  Not to mention throwing money at her kids who then proceed to trash talk him behind his back.  Hey, here’s a tip, Einstein:  If you don’t want to be treated like a wallet, stop acting like one!

I want to cry when I think about how stupid I was to ever trust him again.  This could have been done two years ago.  Who on earth in her right mind agrees to move closer to the mistress?  That’s right- me!  I was so confident that I had “won” and that our relationship was better than ever.  Stupid, stupid me.  I should have kicked him to the curb back then.  At the very least I should have said to him:  Suck it up, buttercup!  We’re all happy here; we’re not moving.  But no, I was the good, dutiful wife.  I followed him all over, supported his career.  Essentially I sacrificed my happiness, and my children’s happiness, for his.  And then he shit all over us.

I almost cried the other day when talking about relationships that begin in high school and turn into long lasting marriages with my daughter.  I could feel the tears starting to form but I choked them back.  I was telling her about a friend of mine who met her husband when she was in ninth grade.  They dated all through high school and all through college and then got married.  They’ve been together over thirty years.  My daughter asked me, “How does that happen?”  As I answered her honestly I wanted to cry.  “Honey, sometimes you just get lucky the first time, I guess.”  Why cry at that?  Because it turns out I didn’t get lucky at all, even with a wedding, two beautiful and much wanted children, and twenty years of marriage. Oh, believe me.  I lucked out on my kids.  They are fantastic.  But as far as being lucky in love?  I didn’t get lucky with my first pick back when I was in ninth grade and I wasn’t lucky with what I thought was my final pick when I was almost twenty-six.

I want to cry most days when I go on Facebook and see all those happy couples shouting out a happy anniversary to their other half.  You see, I haven’t been able to do that since his first go round with the whore.  Every time I would think about it it would depress me and I would think to myself, “How can I celebrate this day when he cheated on me?  Your anniversary is supposed to be the day you honor your vows.  He didn’t honor his so how do we celebrate?”  The funny part is I truly thought this would be the year that I could do exactly that.  I was really hoping this year I could post on Facebook, “Happy Anniversary to my love.  It’s been 21 years and I can’t wait to see what the next 21 bring.”  I want to cry not only because people are happily married, but also because I look back at my own relationship and I think, “I made it 20 years, too, and then he shit all over me. I hope you have better luck.”  Sometimes I think, “What’s wrong with me that I couldn’t make it work like they could?”  Of course, the answer is this:  They’re not married to a lying, cheating douchebag!

Ironically, I never cry about the fact that he’s screwing his cousin.  I figure that’s his own shame to carry.  I mean, that’s just some sick stuff. And as I said before I pretty much lost all feelings for him the minute I found out he was fucking around on me again.

I want to cry some days when I think about how much he’s lied and how he’s treated me and the kids.  How I hate the lies!  Every time he would tell me one I wanted so badly to believe it, even knowing all I did.  He told me he was going to his best friend’s for the weekend and headed directly to her house.  Told me he loved me.  Oh, the drive is so exhausting; I’m going to bed as soon as I get there.  When I told him I loved him he told me he loved me more.  Blech!  He even went so far as to request pictures of my boobs!  You’re screwing your cousin and you want your wife to send you naked pictures?  Oh hell no!  He acts like he’s the victim.  He actually told our daughter that the reason he left every weekend was because he wasn’t welcome at the house.  No, you leave every weekend because your whore lives in a different state and your dick can’t reach her from here!  The way he’s treated me you would think that I have been cheating on him!  Good God I wish!  Divorce seems to be so much easier when you have a partner by your side!

I want to cry when I start thinking defeatist thoughts like, “Death wouldn’t be so bad.”  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m not suicidal.  I know that if I did that then I would be sentencing my kids to a fate worse than death- life with their “father” full time! And I’ve never been a big fan of death; I’m one of those people who would kind of like to live to be 115.  It’s just that some days I think that once I’ve raised my kids maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to lay down and die.  Or that since I don’t have anything to look forward to when death comes I won’t mind. Look, I’m 46 years old.  I haven’t worked outside of the home in 17 years.  I have never made more than $20,000 in a single year on my own.  My whole life (and retirement plan) was intrinsically linked with my husband’s.  Now that is all gone and I’m left wondering where am I going to live?  Should I move back to my home state and piss off my kids even more?  We just moved here and I know they don’t want to start over.  If I stay here, how long do I stay?  Will I be stuck here forever because my kids end up making their homes here?  What kind of a job will I get?  Should I go back to school for a more useful degree?  Will anyone want to hire me at my age?  What is life going to look like in a few years?  Should I just plan on using spousal support to support myself?  What’s going to happen to me if my douchebag ex dies at a young age?  No more spousal support; that’s for sure! Will I be eating dog food when I’m 80 because I have no money saved up for retirement since, you know, I had planned on still being married at that point (or at least widowed)?  For all I know I’ll be alone for the rest of my life.  My kids will grow up, possibly marry, have families of their own.  I guess that’s yet another negative of divorcing when your kids are older; you don’t have years and years to focus on your kids instead of your own happiness and reinventing your life.  That sounds bad, doesn’t it?  I guess what I mean is, well, to put it bluntly I’ve got about 7 more years of full time parenting left!  My daughter graduates in less than 3 years and then she’ll be off to college.  My son will graduate 3 years after that.  I’ve spent the last 15 years being Mom; my schedule has revolved around their activities and school events.  I thought in another few years I’d be dealing with the empty nest syndrome and traveling with my husband.  Turns out I’ll be…. who knows?  So yeah, some days just laying down and dying doesn’t seem so bad.  At least for me.  It would probably suck for a lot of other people.

Finally, I want to cry some days when I think about the future (see above if you don’t believe me).  About love and happiness.  I’m easily overwhelmed these days so I try not to think too much about health/dental/vision insurance, or if I’m ever going to have any savings in my savings account, or what the hell will happen to me when I hit retirement age.  Mainly, I try to have hope that one day I may be happy as well.  I know it happens, but here’s the thing.  I met my husband after a five year drought.  I was young and cute and thin back then.  I had no children, no ex-husband, and not having a job wasn’t a huge negative.  I still couldn’t get a steady boyfriend!  Now I’m <gulp> middle aged with two teenagers.  Although I’ve lost 25 pounds so far on the divorce diet I’m still carrying about 50 I don’t need.  My boobs, awesome as they are, sag and I have stretch marks and a c-section scar.  As I said above I haven’t worked a full time job in 17 years and I’ve been a stay at home mom for 15 years.  If I’m being optimistic I’m still pretty cute.  I’m hopeful there is someone out there for me but I’m not planning on it.  And that just sucks. Many times I find myself wishing that I wasn’t going through this divorce alone just like my husband isn’t.  Many times I think that I would like to have someone waiting in the wings to take my husband’s place, like he has someone chomping at the bit to take mine. But that would make me a whore so…  Some days I wish I knew what my future was supposed to look like. Hell, fantasy or not, at least the douchebag has a plan. I am hoping that I don’t let this awful experience color my view on men and all other relationships.  I was pretty jaded in my teens and twenties and at that point I had obviously never devoted 21 years of my life to another human being only to be betrayed. I know I’ll never remarry and that’s ok. No, seriously, my spousal support will stop if I remarry or move in with someone; I’m never remarrying. Besides, after these past 21 years being with a person who was never much of a partner I’m good with just dating. My daughter used to tell me that if I ever left her dad he would never be able to find anyone else.  Oh, the irony.  It burns.  But hey, if a bald guy with bad teeth and some serious psychological issues (not to mention being a pathological liar and a cheater) can find love surely I can!