Just When You Think He Can’t Sink Lower…

Today has sucked.  I got through Valentine’s Day no problem.  That day does not bother me at all.  I woke up today and all Hell has broken loose.  So much for cleaning up my potty mouth because I am pissed beyond belief.

I woke up with a message from my pool contractor, asking me if there was any news or if they should get a lawyer.  I replied that my lawyer was working on it and that I thought Cousinfucker would pay; he was just taking his sweet time.

For some reason I decided to look at my bank account and see if the support payment had been made.  Since September Cousinfucker has had payments directly deposited into my account.  It wasn’t there.  Shit!  Has he decided to fuck with me since he had to move out?  Or is it something far more nefarious?  That little nagging voice in the back of my head wouldn’t go away.

I call my lawyer and tell him my support payment has not been deposited.  I go on to tell him that I have no idea if he’s quit his job, moved out of state, just wants to fuck with me…. I have no clue.  I do tell him that as long as we’ve been married his company has always deposited his paycheck early if payday occurs on a Sunday or a holiday.  He tells me to give it until 2 pm tomorrow in case there is simply a small snafu with the holiday schedule.

While I had been chatting with my mom I texted Cousinfucker’s boss and asked him if Cousinfucker still worked there.  A few hours later I get a reply.  Sam, Cousinfucker resigned several weeks ago.  I wish you both the best.

First of all, WTF?  And second of all, WTF?  I think the best for me has just flown by.  My husband is fucking his cousin and has abandoned me and my kids.  It’s a little late for well wishes!  And seriously?  Did the asshole really quit his job?  Oh yes he did!

I quickly sent another text asking him if he knew whether or not Cousinfucker had received his bonus check before resigning and if he knew where he went.  Remember, Cousinfucker is not responding to me or to his kids.  Turns out part of the reason behind that is because his phone was company property so he no longer has it.

In the meantime I find out that he has left the fucking state.  Yes, that’s right.  Cousinfucker moved me and my kids here, ripped our lives apart, and then turns around and a year and a half later LEAVES THE FUCKING STATE!  Dammit!  I was just beginning to feel settled somewhat.  I had a plan.  Some of my fears were being alleviated.  I knew where to get insurance.  I figured out how I was going to pay for my daughter’s graduation party. I had a plan for how I was going to pay my taxes.  Now?  Poof!  All of that is up in smoke.  Son Of A Bitch!

His boss eventually texted me back and let me know that Cousinfucker was going back home (no, he’s not) and that all other questions should be directed to him.  I texted back:  Thanks for all of your help.  The kids and I sure do appreciate it.

As it stands I don’t have a way to contact him unless I use my kids as a conduit.  I guess I could correspond with his family but I have no stomach for that.  I could possibly also unblock him on Facebook and send him a message that way.  He has left without a word to either of his kids.  His support payment is not in the bank. I don’t know if he plans on paying it or not.  I don’t know if he got his bonus check or not.  I think he probably did because his last direct deposit was January 31st.  I have no idea when, or if, Cousinfucker is planning on paying off the pool.  I have no idea, when, or if, he’s planning on paying me my portion of the bonus check.  I don’t know if he still has insurance on me and the kids.  I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get the bonus included in his annual salary now that he has quit.  I don’t know if he’s making a ton more money at this new job.  I don’t know what’s going to happen with all the unvested stock he had.  I mean, I know he’s not entitled to it but I don’t know if he’ll have to reimburse me for a portion of what I would have received, or if they will be able to use that in income calculations.  He walked away from a job of 15 years.  Oh, God!  I don’t know if my original plan is going to go through.  I had wanted to stay here until my daughter had graduated.  I hate the thought of moving her her junior year.  I really do. Hell, for all I know this new company will offer him a buyout on the house and I’ll either have to accept it and get out now, or he’ll try to make me take on the house and any losses associated with it.  I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to swim in this damn pool that we’ve paid so much fucking money for. I have no idea what he’s planning on doing as far as taxes go.  Is he going to file jointly, or married separately?  Who the fuck knows?  And how will I get any portion of the refund, or will that be yet another thing he tries to keep from me?  I don’t know anything right now.  This sucks so hard!  I hate him.  It’s really hard to get to “Meh” when he keeps fucking with me and the kids.

The good news is I received a lovely gift basket from a fellow cheated on mom/friend.  It included wine!  And I’ve gained about 10 pounds of the 25 pounds I lost originally on the divorce diet.  Thanks to asshole and his machinations I have felt sick to my stomach all day and have had nothing more than a grilled cheese!  Maybe I’ll drop 5 pounds.  Motherfucker!

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!

 

Signs, Signs, Everywhere There’s Signs

I was reading over on Chump Lady about signs the universe was trying to give you that your relationship with the cheater was doomed.  Some people had actual signs and then others were talking about dreams.  I did have some dreams during the marriage, but only one small sign to think of, and I chalked that up to the fact that it’s said everyone has something go wrong on their wedding day.  Although, looking back I could take our whole trip out to our new state as a sign.

The day of our wedding I was running late.  The wedding was supposed to begin at 4:30 and the bridesmaids had been told to be there an hour beforehand.  My maid of honor, my STBX-SIL, Jezebel, and I were at the salon and they were soooooo slow.  He kept telling me, “Honey, you’re the bride.  They’re not going to start without you!”  OK, that is true, but there is the possibility that they may think I just stood him up at the alter.  In hindsight, that would have been the way to go.  Anyway, I’ve told the story many times before.  We had Jezebel go first because she was singing and needed to warm up.  Maid of Honor and I were there until 3:30 or so, maybe almost 4.  Then we sped off to the church, doing upwards of 75 mph in the city trying to get to the church on time.  I ended up being on time but one of my friends who was a groomsman went to the wrong church.  Hey, maybe he was trying to tell me something!  Then he got the right church but as he was getting dressed he discovered he didn’t have his shirt; fortunately (?) it had fallen off the hanger in the parking lot so that was an easy fix. Someone went to retrieve it for him, he finished dressing, and we were finally able to begin the wedding.  I know we did not begin the wedding on time.  Like I said, I chalked it up to being our crazy wedding day story.

Our final trip out here was one hell of a ride.  First, I was driving across the country with two kids, 3 dogs, 2 cats, and a fish.  And a van filled with things the moving company wouldn’t transport, including about 8 12-packs of pop.  Who knew they couldn’t take carbonated beverages?  Not me!  It was a three day trip.  I had to find a hotel that would take pets, for starters.  Then, because one of the kids I was transporting was my niece, and because I could stay at my mom’s house for free instead of paying for a hotel room I ended up taking a slightly longer (by about 3 hours) route to our new house.  Then on our final day as we get ready to leave on the last leg of the trip my engine light came on and the bell that would ding if my doors didn’t close properly was chiming incessantly; this meant that we weren’t going to get on the road until much later and we wouldn’t arrive at our destination until late at night.  I took it into the shop but they didn’t have the part that was needed.  They told me it was going to take at least one day for the part to come in.  I was in full panic mode.  I HAD to get to my new home!  How would my poor, helpless husband ever manage to direct the move by himself?  He would be a sobbing mess. Since they knew I needed to get on the road they repaired it enough for me to get to my destination.  They did not, however, remove the fuse that would stop the incessant dinging; apparently, that is a trick that only ONE dealership in the entire country knows about.  How do I know this?  Because every time I mentioned it the service techs would look at me like I was crazy.  I had it done by service techs at a dealership.  It was THEIR solution to my problem; it’s not like I came up with this on my own! As you might imagine I got to drive for ten hours listening to this:  ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding..

Seriously- ten hours of that!  I couldn’t play the radio loud enough to cover up the sound.  To make the trip even more delightful my phone died about four hours from our destination.  My daughter plugged it into the brand new charger I had bought and announced, “It isn’t charging!”  I was freaking out!  I had no other directions to our new house.  Technology!  It always works, right?  I wasn’t even sure how to get to the hotel where CF was staying, nor did I know what his room number was.  Freaking out doesn’t describe it.  It was more like blind panic.  I was crying and trying to hide it from my daughter, who thought I was going to drive off a mountain.  Remember, I’ve listened to an incessant dinging for about 7 or 8 hours now and I’m traveling with 3 dogs, 2 cats and a fish, in addition to my daughter.  And my engine could start giving me problems at any minute.  We did finally make it, of course, and I was there in time to help supervise the unloading of our furniture and household goods so that CF didn’t have to do it all by himself.  Ah yes, the trip from Hell straight into our lives from Hell.  A fitting foreshadowing.

Then there were the dreams.  One was a recurring dream; it didn’t occur often but I probably had it four to six times. In the dream he was leaving me and I would always say, “It finally happened.  He really left me.”  It never got much further than that.  Just me realizing he had tossed me aside and me wondering what the hell I was going to do now. And it would always be one of those dreams where you tell yourself that you are not dreaming; this is real.  Have you ever had one of those?  For me, I’ll be dreaming and it’s something unpleasant.  Then in the dream I wake up.  But then I go on to have another dream, and this time when I’m dreaming I tell myself, “No, you were dreaming last time but you woke up.  This is real.  It’s actually happening.” I hate those dreams!  I never really gave it much thought, though; I probably thought it happened because I was a stay at home mom.  That, or maybe I always expected him to leave me one day.

Right before I found out he was fucking Harley the second time I had a dream where I knew he was cheating on me and I asked him why he was doing this.  He sneered at me, “Because it’s fun.”  I’m pretty sure I had that dream the weekend he was gone for the funeral (and fucking his whore).

Of course, we have the gut check and how it was screaming at me for a few weeks- first the charge to the Whore Town Walmart, and then him refusing to take to our daughter to the funeral.  Come to think of it, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the weekend in May he was going to his mom’s he was actually going to see Harley.  Again, he wouldn’t take either of the kids.  The coup de grace though had to be the changing date of the funeral and how a one night stay turned into 4 nights.  And the motherfucker didn’t even bother leaving until late morning.

Hey, maybe this is his sign that what he’s doing is not such a good thing.  Keep in mind that for years now Cousinfucker has been talking about his anxiety driving to work.  He even commented only months earlier that he could barely make it to work anymore, and his current commute was 10 minutes.  He’s now making a 12 hour round trip. Every weekend (of course, at the time I didn’t know this was going to be an every weekend thing).  Driving during the day.  Driving at night.  He’s amazing!  His recovery is amazing.  Let’s all praise Jesus for the miracle He has worked on this man!  As he’s getting off the exit to our town, after spending 5 days with the whore where he took her to a damn funeral to show off to his family, he ends up rear ending a tractor trailer.  Yep, here’s yer sign!

Some Days I (Want To) Cry, and Others I’m Just Pissed Off

 

It is no secret I’m a big fan of Chump Lady.  And if you don’t know that by now I am obviously not gushing over her enough.  I think she rocks.  She has explained a number of times that she uses the language that she uses on her blog to get people angry, to jolt “chumps” out of their chumpdom.  I say, “Thank God!”  Because I do tend to try to stay very level headed.  I try very hard not to let him get to me and not to let the rage simmer over into a full boil.  It would be so easy to let the rage consume me and let myself completely lose control and go ape shit on his ass.  But I don’t.  I’m looking long range.

There are times though that I get really pissed.  It pisses me off when I think of how blithely he lied to me.  He flat out lied to my face without a second thought.  He waltzed into our bedroom and announced he was thinking of birthday gift ideas for his mom and perhaps he would get her and his stepdad new phones and pay the bill since they only had pay as you go phones.  LIAR!  But, man, was he smooth as silk.  I had no idea my husband could lie to me that easily.

I texted him all summer while the kids and I were away visiting friends and family.  Every morning (or most mornings, I should probably say) I would snap a picture and send it to him with a little message.  Usually that message was simply, “Hi,” or “Good morning.”  And every day he played along, despite the fact that he was texting his whore and probably jerking off to her messages.  We talked about sex and looking forward to it once I got back home.  LIAR!  He just kept conning me.

He callously allowed me and his therapist to “coach” him through his drive for a supposed business trip.  I say supposed because there is some doubt that he was on this trip by himself.  Regardless, we coached him and stroked his ego and told him how he was a big boy and he could do this!  And he probably walked out of there thinking we were two of the biggest idiots he had ever encountered.  Motherfucker!

He casually mentioned going to his mom’s after the business trip.  You know, because he was so close to her house and he could just never forgive himself if he didn’t make the trip.  In hindsight he wasn’t that much closer to her house when he was on the so called business trip than when he was at our house.  Again with the lies.  Again doing it so casually.  And yes, that pisses me off.  To think that he was filled with such hubris.  That he thought he was so much better and so much smarter than me.  To think about all the ways he was pulling the wool over my eyes and not losing one bit of sleep over it.  Like an idiot I fully supported him, told him I had no problem with that.  He even had the audacity to ask me, “Are you sure you won’t be mad?”  I replied, “Of course not.  She’s your mom!”  Joke’s on me because dear old mom had already encouraged Harley to give her dear son a call, and there was a family reunion that they all attended.  HIS family wasn’t there.  Hell, we weren’t even informed about the event.  But he was there, and Harley was there, and they were hooking up a year to the day that our furniture was delivered to our new house from across the country.  You sonofabitch!  You had better thank your lucky stars that I haven’t had a chance to get down to New Orleans because once I do I’m buying a voodoo doll and I’m cursing your ass!

I get pissed when I think about him telling bald face lies all summer long about how he’s helping his mom out with grocery money and using his niece as a cover story.  “Oh, I’ve got to help them.  She’s my niece.  She’s young and she has a baby and she’s pregnant again.  Mom can’t keep up with feeding her and her boyfriend.  I’ve just gotta help!”  And because I’m a nice person, a kind and loving person, a big-hearted person, I thought nothing of it.  Of course we’ll help.

I think that’s the part that chaps my ass the most.  He used everything that I knew about us as a couple and who we were and used that against me.  We did help out our relatives.  I’m not saying we were dropping hundred dollar bills on them constantly, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary  for us to buy groceries, pay rent, send care packages, offer to pay a dentist bill, pay for airfare…  That’s why it was so easy for him to lie to me and get all of this by me.  You want to buy your mom a phone and pay her bill?  OK, that sounds reasonable.  It’s not like we haven’t paid her rent , bought her groceries, made a car payment for her, or “loaned” her money before.  We’ve got it so why not?  You want to send your mom money for groceries?  OK, that sounds reasonable.  You sent her $500 to repair her car?  Um, ok.  You sent her $500 again?  For what purpose?  And then you turned around and supposedly paid $172 for a single fucking tire at a Walmart in the whore’s town?  This is getting suspicious.

But no!  He didn’t know why that charge came up as Whoreville!  It was supposed to be some other town, much closer to his mom.  And he gave her more money because he just knew they were really hurting and needed it.  His mom didn’t ask for it, of course.  He’s such a good son he simply gave it to her because he could anticipate a need.

Yes, that shit pisses me off.  Again, you entitled jackass!  He LIED right to my face, disrespected me, disrespected our kids, our marriage, our everything.  And he used our past and my good nature to sell that lie.

I get pissed when I think about him refusing to take our daughter to his cousin’s funeral because that was just a front to go fuck his cousin.  I get pissed when I think about how, once again, he told me one bald faced lie after another.  What was supposed to be a quick one day trip turned into a five day adventure.  He was supposed to leave on Thursday, attend the funeral on Friday and return that day.  Instead he left on Thursday, told me on Friday that the funeral had been switched to Saturday (but by golly he swears they told him Friday!), and then plans to come home on Sunday.  When I ask him on Sunday, around 3 if he’s heading back soon he tells me he’s not leaving until 8.  What????  This is a man who had to be coached to drive on his business trip less than a month ago.  This is a man who until recently claimed that just driving to work (a mere 10-15 minutes away) was causing him great distress and anxiety.  Now, not only can the enflamed baboon’s ass drive hours and hours, he can even drive in the dark!  Praise Jesus!  It’s a miracle!  But wait!  It gets better.  I get a text at 11:00 at night letting me know he accidentally left with his mom’s keys in his briefcase.  Oh, how silly you are, Baboon Ass!  What a cute story!  Your mom’s keys are in your briefcase because you drove to the funeral.  On Saturday.  And your mom never needed her keys again between Saturday and Sunday.  Oh, that’s a laugh riot.  Now, he has to turn around and go back to Mommy’s house where he will spend the night.  He will come home the next day.  Yet somehow he doesn’t manage to get his ass home until after 5 in the afternoon.  It’s a 6 hour drive.  It also culminated in him rear ending a truck and him needing his own car repaired.  What’s wrong, Boo?  Were you thinking of sliding between your whore of a cousin’s thighs and forget to stop at the light?  Serves you right.  Too bad you weren’t going 70 mph when you slammed into it.  Hey, I told you I was pissed.

All those lies told to me and not one ounce of regret.  He could lie like a pro and not blink an eye.  That pisses me off.  It infuriates me.  You know why?  Because he’s saying, “You’re so stupid I can tell you anything and you’ll believe it.”   That’s insulting.  No, you flaming turd shot straight from Satan’s ass, I wasn’t DUMB; I was TRUSTING.  I trusted my lying, cheating husband of almost 21 years to be honest and faithful.  I misjudged your character.  I thought you had some and it turns out that much like your hair, you don’t have any.  He used our past and my kindness and understanding against me and then has the balls to believe it’s all because he’s such an impressive person who is so much smarter than the average bear.  Word to the wise, don’t ever mistake my trust and kindness for weakness.

I get pissed when I think about how he would SLEEP with his phone, and then make up lies.  “I don’t want to miss a call from my mom; I was afraid I wouldn’t hear it.”  What are you- six years old and away at sleep away camp for the first time?  Was he afraid I would find it and read their nasty ass texts?  You had a thumb print passcode, you jackass!  That was probably a huge lie, too.  “Oh, the company wants us to have our phones password protected so that if we ever lose them proprietary information is safe.”  Just to up the ante and play on my good nature he offered to add my thumb print as well.  “I trust you.”  Sam, you were an idiot of proportions so huge I can’t even begin to find an appropriate adjective.  You were off the charts stupid!  Yes, that’s me talking to myself.

I get pissed when I think about him boldly texting her AT OUR HOME, IN OUR BEDROOM and then lying to me when I ask him who on earth he’s texting that late at night.  “Oh, I’m not texting.  I’m playing Words With Friends.”  Seriously?  You don’t think I know the difference between a text screen and a game screen?

Then I get pissed at myself because I think to myself, “Why were you such an idiot?”  I don’t know!  Yes, I do.  I didn’t want to believe he could be cheating on me again.  I didn’t want to believe he could blow up our lives like that.  I liked my life.  I wanted to keep it.  So I buried my head in the sand and I believed even when I shouldn’t have.  It reminds me of the time we went to the zoo and watched as this chimp would stick his finger in his ass and pull out a shit-covered finger.  He would look at the finger, cock his head, sniff it, and then EAT the shit off of his finger.  Over and over again.  We stood there transfixed for more than a few minutes before we had to turn away.  He’s my shit eating chimp.  I couldn’t walk away!

I get pissed when I think about him checking me out only days after his return from the funeral and getting a hard on looking at me.  You fucking pig dipped in cow shit covered with flies and maggots!  You’re fucking your white trash cousin!  Don’t be checking me out.  I wouldn’t let you touch me if your dick was encrusted with diamonds!  I wonder though, would it piss you off to know that the reason I was so dressed up that day was because I was going to visit a lawyer to see what my rights were and how much you would end up paying me in child support?  Because I did.  Yes, you see, the very next day after I discovered you were back to fucking around with little Miss Harley I started calling lawyers.  I didn’t fuck around this time.  I started lining up my ducks.

I get pissed when I think about him taking off only a few days later to visit “his best friend.”  I mean, it was only fair since his friend had come to see him last time.  This time it was his turn.  Oh, had he forgotten to tell me that this was the weekend he was going?  He thought I knew.  And, of course, he was planning on telling me goodbye but I had just taken such a long time on my errand that he needed to leave before I could get back.  No, Satan, I think you mean you waited until I left to run an errand so you could get your damn suitcase out to the car without me being any the wiser.  Thankfully, I was already on to him, though so I knew it was all a lie this time.  Nonetheless, it pisses me off every time I think of him asking me why I hadn’t sent him a picture of my boobs.  Um, because, Dickhead, you’re fucking your cousin.  It actually puts me into a white hot rage some days.  The hubris.  A man gets brave when he’s screwing a piece of strange, even when that piece of strange is a white trash, gold digging whore.  Considering I’ve been told he has shown naked pictures of me to the whore I wonder now what his purpose in asking me to send him those pictures was.  Did he want to show her?  Is she eyeing some plastic surgery to be equal to me?  Did he want to show her so they could laugh together about how stupid I was?  Did he just want to test me, to see how far he could push me even when he was being a cheating, lying dick?  I don’t know.  I don’t care.  it just pisses me off.

I get pissed off when I think of how he so blithely spends his work days here at this house and then packs his bags and leaves to spend the weekend with his mistress and her kids.  Seriously, is that some entitled shit or what?  Is he just daring me to say something to him?  She can have you and all of your issues, too.  But it is still some entitled bullshit with a side of “Fuck You” tossed in.

I get pissed off when I think of all the money he has given to her, or spent on her.  That and the fact that he had the audacity to tell our son I “took all his money”.  No, Asshole, I simply made it more difficult for you to continue giving Harley every cent we had.

Similarly, I get pissed off when I think of him telling me, “I’m not going to continue to allow you to steal every dime I make!”  You wouldn’t be making the kind of money you make now if it weren’t for me, you lying, cheating douchebag.  And I didn’t steal YOUR money.  That was OUR money and you were giving it to YOUR WHORE without MY permission.

Simply looking at his pathetic face pisses me off most days.  I suppose it’s a good thing he does slink in and out of the house.

I was pissed off the day he told me, “This can still be civil.”  Fuck that!  I’ve been civil, you pompous, self-righteous incestuous bastard!  Very, very civil.

I get pissed off when I think about him trying to paint himself as the victim to our kids.  How dumb do you think they are?  This isn’t your mommy and your sister.  Those two idiot enablers don’t live with you, but your kids do.  They’ve been here for the last fifteen and thirteen years.  They know exactly what’s gone on in this house and how you’ve acted.  Your daughter called you out on your shit and your son doesn’t believe a word that you say.

I get pissed off when I think of him telling me, “Why don’t you use some of that money you took to pay the bills?” and then smirking, “Someone’s angry,” when I let loose on him.  I understand why the show, “Snapped” exists.

I think sometimes my biggest regret is not raging against him.  I sometimes wish I had Facetimed him when he was “visiting his best friend” and told him I knew, showed him the picture of his car.  Busted!  I wish I had told him not to come home and that I had thrown all of his shit on the front lawn with a big ol’ sign that said:  Cheater lives here! I moved my entire family across the country so I could fuck my cousin!  Along with a lot of smaller signs simply saying:  A cheater lives at xxxx YourStreet!  Enjoy fucking your whore the rest of the weekend, you asshole!

I get pissed off when I think about him giving a performance of a lifetime as Daddy of the Year for her four kids while he neglects his own.  I realize his relationship (or lack of one) with his kids is his own.  He’s going to have to own it and they aren’t cutting him any slack.  But it still pisses me off.  All these fucking years he shut himself away in his bedroom and left me to fend for myself as a single parent.  He fucks a whore and it suddenly jumpstarts his paternal instinct, although honestly, I think he’s just putting on a very good act.  He’ll get tired of it eventually.  And it pisses me off (and makes me a little bit sad for my kids) when I think of how she brags to people about what a wonderful father he is.  Is he?  Because his own kids don’t think he’s doing such a bang up job.  In fact, they’ve said he sucks as a dad.  But it’s so good to hear he’s treating your kids well.  I suppose when you’re fucking their mommy and she’s still married to their daddy you need to be especially nice to them.  What better way than to buy them off?

I get pissed when I think back to asking him for money to buy a Homecoming dress for our daughter and him telling me he didn’t have the money at this time; he’d have to give it to me next paycheck.  Yet somehow he was able to pay over $300 for a dress for a kid that isn’t his.

I get pissed when I think of how he’s ignoring his kid’s text messages, asking if he’s going to give them their allowances, because he’s too much of a chicken shit to actually admit that he’s not.  Now that he actually has to pay support he is apparently going to take the position of:  I pay child support and that should cover everything you need.  Ever.  That, despite the fact that he has NO BILLS outside of his support payment.  He lives here rent free, pays no utilities, pays no share of the marital debt, has no cell phone bill, no car payment, doesn’t even pay his car insurance.  I get a lump sum and I pay for EVERYTHING out of my money.  But he can’t cough up any extra for a yearbook.  Hey, here’s an idea.  Take that $200+ you spend each month on Harley and her daughter’s cell phone bill and use THAT to pay for your kids’ allowances!  Instead of blowing $300 on a damn dress for her daughter maybe use that money to treat your own damn kids!

I get pissed off when I think about how I’ve done all the grunt work over the years to get him to where he is and she’s going to plant her ass in one place, never moving her kids or her own self and he’s going to work around her.  Or at least that’s the plan.  Wonder how well that will work once he begins his new job and realizes he hates that one just as much as he hates this one because once again he has a boss?  That boss might have the balls to tell him no, or to overrule him on something or not let him have his way on everything.  Then he realizes in order to keep his pussy supply going he can’t move very far and now he’s stuck.  Boo hoo.  I feel so bad for you, CF.

I get pissed when I think about how he never arranged his jobs around OUR lives and US.  No, we were always expected to go wherever he took us.  But now, now he’s all about looking close to wherever the pussy is.  And how ridiculous is it that he was looking at a job smack dab in the middle of both of our home towns?  Seriously?  For over twenty years you couldn’t manage to look in that city which would have put us 2 1/2 hours away from your family and 3 hours away from mine?  That was too overwhelming for you but somehow you can now take on a divorce, your kids hating you, trying to sell a house (probably at a loss) with no guaranteed buyout, and a job change?  Once again, alert the fucking press because a miracle has occurred!

I get pissed when I think about the fact that he could have been promoted instead of us making another lateral move, thousands of miles away, destroying our lives.  But no, that all came to a screeching halt the first time he was fucking around with the dumb bitch and they came up with their little plan to move all of us closer (Why all of us?  Couldn’t he have moved and left us behind?).  He started the wheels turning way back then and we all got stuck with it.  So, instead of us remaining where we were, living the lives we loved while he was promoted and traveled, essentially rendering him a weekend husband and father, we’re here in BFE.  She’s the one that gets the weekend partner and father, instead of us.  Come to think of it, one of the reasons he gave for not wanting to travel so much was he didn’t want to miss out on his kids’ lives.  O.M.G.  That is hysterical!  He doesn’t seem to give two shits about his kids and what they want or what they’re doing.  And isn’t he basically doing the exact same thing he said he didn’t want to do?  It’s just that instead of staying at a Hilton or a Marriott, he’s staying in the family home while he’s away at work and then he drives the six hours to spend the weekend with his fake family.

I get pissed when I think of how casually he told me he was “grateful” to me for moving all over the country for him and his job.  Grateful?  How about acknowledging the fact that you’d still be a fucking 2nd shift supervisor if not for me?  Or perhaps a superintendent if you were very lucky.  The fact that I was willing to relocate instead of stomping my feet and insisting that I couldn’t be moved away from my family meant that you got to “self-promote”, as you liked to call it.  But he’s grateful.

Just like he also “respects me as a mother.”  Considering the fact that I’m the one that has done all of the parenting I would sure as hell hope you respect that.  Not to mention the fact that you run off every weekend to go fuck a whore and play family with her kids, leaving your kids with me.  I would hope you respect me as a mother seeing as how you LEFT YOUR FUCKING KIDS WITH ME DURING A STATE OF EMERGENCY DUE TO A HURRICANE!  And then again during a blizzard (also after a state of emergency had been called).

It pisses me off when I think of everything he has put all of us through.  We all gave up so much for HIM, to make HIM happy.  The end result is he didn’t give a shit.  It was never enough.  My daughter could have been a collegiate athlete; he took that away from her.  So HE could be happy.  My son is not happy here; he’s given up all of his friends, the one sport he loved to play, and the cello.  Again, all for his father’s wishes and desires.  My daughter is suffering- frequent migraines, anxiety, possible depression.  She has lost her drive.  My son is miserable here and wants to go back to YYY state.  I left behind friends.  I dropped all my activities.  For HIM.  Because he was unhappy where we were.  So I did what I always did and told him we would all go wherever he wanted to go.  My mother has said more than once that he couldn’t have left us in any worse financial shape.  Seriously- who the fuck puts an expensive inground pool in their backyard and then leaves their family?  A selfish asshole, that’s who!  He moves us here and now he’s planning on leaving?  WTF!  It’s like he dropped a bomb on our lives and once we had partially rebuilt them he tosses in a few hand grenades.  SURPRISE!

It pisses me off when I think of how he thinks he’s just going to walk away from all responsibilities.  He doesn’t worry about who is taking care of the kids.  He doesn’t worry about who will watch the dogs when he goes away.  Doesn’t give a shit who will watch them if we go away.  He isn’t worrying about finding another house in the kids’ school district, or one that will accept pets.  Hell, he’s not even concerned about getting our backyard back into shape in order to sell this damn place, and he sure as shit isn’t planning on doing any of the cleaning or chauffeuring dogs around when it’s time to show the house.  Nope, he’s free and clear.  He’s a bachelor with no kids, no pets, no responsibilities.  He’s planning on ME doing all the heavy lifting, just like I always have.

If I think way back to when I found out about him and Harley the first time it pisses me off to think of how *I* was the one who was expected to change and dance for him.  Oh, baby, tell me what I can do to make this all better?  What do I need to do so you don’t feel the need to seek out other women?  Let me know how I failed you so that I may improve.  You know who should have had a list of things to work on?  You!  You should have been the one dancing like mad, trying to woo me and win me back.  You should have been doing everything you possibly could have to keep me happy and to make me want you because YOU are the one that fucked up.  Not me!  Here’s the kicker, folks- I wouldn’t even want him to feel like he had to constantly prove himself to me.  I never wanted him to dance for me.  But if one of us is going to have a list I think it should be ME presenting a list to HIM.  I didn’t cheat.  I didn’t lie.  Instead he let me know what all *I* could do.  Unfortunately, I was so stupid I went along with it.  I wanted to save my marriage.  I wanted to prevent my kids from growing up with divorced parents.  In hindsight I should have kicked his sorry ass to the curb and got on with my life.  In YYY state, with my daughter still competing in gymnastics, my son still playing hockey, and me still surrounded by great friends and a support network.

In a similar vein it pisses me off when I think of how he would plead for me to “just leave her alone; let her and her husband work things out for themselves while we work on our own stuff.”  Or how he explained the text she sent to him and his wimpy response.  He didn’t want to hurt her anymore; he felt bad because he knew he had already hurt her when he picked me.  Oh, barf!  She was your potential fuck buddy for less than four months.  I’d been your wife for over 18 years at that point.  He is a liar and a coward and a cheat.

It pisses me off whenever I think about the fact that while he was more than willing to stick up for his whore he refused to stick up for me.  I would let him know it bothered me that his family continued to fawn over the dumb whore and his response was always, “I can’t control them,” or “What am I supposed to do?  They’re grown adults.”  He refused to talk to them about their behavior, instead expecting me to just get over it.  And of course, whining about me not wanting to have a relationship with his traitorous family.  Even when I could overhear his mom telling him how she wanted to work on her relationship with me he wouldn’t ‘fess up and tell her straight out:  Stop interacting with Harley!

It pisses me off every time I think about how he would throw me under the bus with his many fucking lies to anyone who would listen.  He was always the victim and he loved to paint me as a heartless, vicious bitch.  He never corrected any of the fallacies.  Oh no, that might jeopardize his victim stance!  He actually had the gall to tell another sister that I filed for divorce and he had no idea why!  Um, that’s a lie, but if we’re going to go down this route then might I suggest you read your damn divorce papers?  I told you exactly why; I even gave her name and listed her address.

Then he turned around and told this same sister I threw out all of his clothes.  Because he never corrects his inaccurate statements I’m sure everyone in his circle still believes to this day that I’ve thrown out all of his clothes despite the fact that they were all nicely hung up in the guest bedroom.  You see, Cousinfucker fully intended to remain in the master bedroom, watching TV on the 42” TV, sipping wine, texting his whore while I slept on the couch or in the guest bedroom.  He, the cheater, would retreat to his spacious suite all during the week and then on the weekends he would leave to fuck his whore, returning back to the master bedroom sometime Sunday evening or Monday morning.  Unfortunately for him he made the mistake of accusing me of stealing “every dime he made”.  Picture me as Julia Roberts in “Pretty Woman”:  Big mistake.  Huge!  I kicked his worthless ass out of the master bedroom; I wheeled his dirty clothes into the guest room and moved all his shit out of the closet that weekend.  I think I should get bonus points for actually hanging them up instead of throwing them out onto the lawn.

It pisses me off when I think about HIS MOTHER encouraging Harley to call him.  What kind of an idiot encourages her son’s whore to give him a call because he’s “so sad”?  Seriously??? Don’t you think maybe that’s something you should be discussing with his WIFE?  Oh no!  Let’s call up the whore and see if she can work her magic.

It especially pisses me off when I think of her sitting in my kitchen asking me why we aren’t Facebook friends and telling me that she wants our relationship to go back to the way it was when we were so close, talking about how CF and I have been together for 20 years and that’s a long time.

It pisses me off that she can then turn around and write on my daughter’s Facebook page that she loves her with all of her heart even with everything that’s going on and then beg her not to shut her out.  YOU CAUSED THIS, YOU DUMB BITCH!  Your granddaughter is going through hell because you chose to enlist the help of her father’s whore instead of talking to his wife, her mother.  You have condoned this.  You’ve welcomed her with open arms.  You’ve basically told both of your grandchildren, “Deal with it!”

It pisses me off when I think of *everyone* who has been working behind the scenes to help destroy our marriage.  There was his “best friend” who so helpfully told him about my other page.  Did he really think that was going to help CF?  I mean, I realize I’m just the woman who has lived with him for over 20 years (incidentally, that is longer than anyone else in his life) so as his college roommate he undoubtedly knew CF way better than I did.  Let’s fast forward and get to the conclusion:  No, it didn’t help.  In fact, it put him into a suicidal state.  Was the best buddy around for that?  No.  He had his own life to live.  Just let the cold hearted bitch take care of him.  He actually had the gall to hug me the last time he saw me, all the while undoubtedly encouraging my husband to trade me in for a newer model.

There was his sister who begged him to leave me, who told him he deserved so much better than me.  Where was she when he was in the hospital?  Oh, that’s right!  She left him with that horrible wife and never bothered to come visit him.  At least now she’s not the only one who has cheated and left her spouse for another.  Welcome to the club, baby brother!

Going back even further it pisses me off when I think about how he wanted me dependent upon him and how nonchalantly he went about achieving that goal.  And it really pisses me off when I think of him wasting 20 plus years of my life, making me dependent upon him, and then discarding me like yesterday’s trash once he has decided he’d rather build a life with his cousin.

If I’m honest with myself this whole situation pisses me off.  Being moved 2000 miles across the country, our lives systematically dismantled for his amusement (and happiness, of course; can’t forget his happiness), money poured into a new house, new car, new furniture, new pool, all the things we promised our kids, the lies he told them about this brand new life out here, and then BOOM!  Lies, lies, lies.  As he blows up our lives completely.

THIS is precisely why I try so hard to take the high road and stuff all of this down.  No, not so much stuff it down.  I try to let it roll off my back, like water on a duck’s back.  This is somewhat ironic because I remember standing in the hair salon with my maid of honor and future sister-in-law, aka Jezebel, the morning of my wedding.  We were wearing button down shirts so as to not mess up our hair once it was done.  Our hair was brushed but that was all, and no makeup was worn.  I let my soon to be sister-in-law go first so my best friend and I were standing around talking.  To keep my emotions from welling up and to prevent the tears from falling I kept saying, “I’m a duck.  I’m a duck.  It’s all like water off a duck’s back.”  Who knew that I’d be saying that again at the end of our marriage?  Such irony.  Can we call that the circle of life?  I digress.

I let it all roll off of me, keeping only enough to power me through to do what needs to get done, because if I didn’t I would be consumed by the rage of everything he has done.  Voodoo dolls would be the least of his concerns.  Another Jedi would fall to the Dark Side.  I’ve got kids to raise; I don’t have time for that shit!  So… I let it roll off my back and only every now and then do I allow myself to take a moment to dwell on the Dark Side.

I Gave You 21 Years; Why Couldn’t You Give Me 2?

 

I’m probably dating myself here but I feel like the newspaper carrier in Better Off Dead.  You know the one?  The little kid that keeps screaming, “I want my two dollars!”  That’s me.  Only my rant is, “Why couldn’t you give me two years after I’ve spent our entire marriage coddling you?”

Honestly, our entire marriage I babied him.  I gave into him.  I let him call the shots almost always.  I moved even when I was perfectly happy.  He screwed around with Harley, lied about it, tried to cover it up, and then *I* was the one that made all these changes.  He didn’t change a damn thing.  I gave and gave and gave.  I put up with his “social anxiety”, his “PTSD”, all his bullshit “issues”.  I dealt with him acting like every damn cold he had was the Black Plague and death was imminent.  I accepted the fact that I was going to have to do a lot of this parenting stuff on my own.  I accepted the fact that we wouldn’t do a lot of things as a family because he had better things to do.  I accepted and dealt with a lot. But after the first discovery he couldn’t give me even two years.

It wasn’t just two years to “get over” his first emotional affair.  It was two years to get over that, to accept that he had done it, to try to move on and forgive him and put it all behind us.  But it was also learning to accept the fact that his family betrayed me and supported Harley.  They refused to cut ties with her, citing the fact that she was family; they gave her a ringside seat into my life, our life.  Every reconciliation site advocates no contact but it didn’t really matter if CF and I had no contact with her; everyone he saw when he would go back home to visit had contact with her.  They fawned over her.  I had to learn these new parameters and try to rise above, be the bigger person and tell myself, “I can accept the fact that his mom has a relationship with her and one with me.”  Yeah, if that currently describes you STOP IT!  I was an idiot.  I ate way too many shit sandwiches.  But at the time I knew it made Cousinfucker unhappy when he had to choose between his family and me.  I told myself that if our marriage was going to get back on track that at some point I was going to have to drop the rope and be the bigger person because his family is too stupid and insensitive to ever realize what they’re doing is hurtful, and I can’t keep making him choose between us (despite how right I really was!).

It was learning to accept the fact that his sister would stab me in the back every chance she got.  She never supported our marriage once he began his affair with Harley as far as I’m concerned.  When he told her he was messing around with Harley the first time her advice was to do what makes him happy.  When he complained about the money I would spend she would agree with him that I wasted money.  Funny that neither of them actually knew how I spent the money.  Yes, I was wasting it on frivolous things like groceries, the mortgage, utilities, car payments and insurance, sports for the kids, clothes for the kids, pet food… the list of financial abuses goes on and on!  After sending me a friend request on Facebook over a year after his EA was discovered she whined to him that I had declined it and she was just done!  I could hardly blame her though.  After all, she had reached out to me dozens of times at that point- calling, texting, emailing, FB friend requests.  Oh wait- that never happened.  Yes, this savior of our marriage NEVER reached out to me.  When I discovered his little exchange with his nephew about the tattoos and marrying the whore I texted her and told her to check up on her brother.  That was the one and only time that we had any kind of exchange.  It was started by me and she never checked up on me again.  And of course he once again had to play the poor, pitiful victim.  He couldn’t have a relationship with her if I didn’t like her.  Oh, she just loved and supported her little brother unconditionally.  It made him so sad that he couldn’t have his sister visit our house.  Believe me, I did set him straight on that one!  I reminded him that his sister hadn’t visited us in more than ten years at that time; she didn’t come to our house because she didn’t want to come to our house and I was not going to take the blame for her no longer being “welcome” at our house.

I’m sensing a theme here and it goes kind of like this:  Sam, you just need to understand that you are at the bottom of my priority list.  I’ll throw you under the bus to anyone who will listen and when they stab you in the back while you’re trying to climb out from under the bus tires, I’m going to need you to smile real pretty for them.  You gotta make nice because these people, though I whine and complain about how they’re never there for me and your family is more of a family to me than mine is, are way more important to me than you are.

It was discovering they had made plans to move me and his kids closer to her so that they could carry on their affair and then being asked to trust that everything was over and that this move he wanted was not about her.  Oh, and did I mention that this occurred months after DDay?  Yes, my one year anti-versary was spent in a brand new house only hours away from Harley the Whore.  I moved across the country narrowing the distance between my husband and his mistress by about twenty hours and he wants to go around telling everyone I hate him.  You entitled, selfish ass!

To sum up: I find out in August, the day of my daughter’s birthday party and only days after my stepfather has died, that my husband has been lying and cheating all summer long.  Two months later I find out he was making plans to marry the whore and they were going to get tattoos together.  Three months after that he accepts the offer for the new job which will take us hours away from her.  And he had been talking about this move the whole entire time, offering to give it up for me because even though he was miserable he would be willing to live in misery so that we could all be happy.  You are such a fake, Cousinfucker.

I then am being asked to acclimate to a new town, one that is much smaller than any we’ve lived in for years.  I’m asked to leave all my friends behind.  I’m asked to leave all my volunteer activities behind.  I can’t find anything similar out here and can’t really find anything to do.  I have 3 or 4 friends.  If we want to count people that I’ve met as friends then I may be up to around eight but it doesn’t mean I actually do anything with these people.  My support network is gone.  My tight knit group of gymnast moms is gone.  There’s no more traveling for gymnastics so no more team dinners and sightseeing with a bunch of friends.  No more Bunko.

I’m watching my kids, specifically my son, struggle with this change.  I know he misses his friends.  I know he misses hockey and playing the cello.  He missed his last year of elementary school because at his new school 6th grade is the first year of middle school, instead of the last year of elementary school.  He missed out on the Valentine’s Day dance, the DARE program, 6th grade graduation.

My daughter adjusted beautifully but it was still painful for her to leave behind gymnastics.  She has continued on in a lesser capacity but it’s not the same.  She knows she’ll never improve.  It was, and still is, difficult for her to watch as all her teammates advance and learn new skills.  She recently said to me, “Think about how good I would be now if I hadn’t had to quit.” When asked if she would give up her new life and all the new experiences she has been given in order to be a Level 10 she answers without hesitation, “In a heartbeat.”

I came back from visiting everyone this summer renewed and refreshed, ready to tackle the world and to grow deep roots in my new community.  I needed less than two damn years to get over his emotional affair, to accept the new relationship with his family, and to adjust to a new town.  TWO!  But apparently that was too much to ask of him.  It needed to be instantaneous or he felt unloved, hated even.  I didn’t trust him; I would never be able to get over what he had done.  Cousinfucker, you are a pathetic piece of human excrement.

I gave him twenty-one years of my life.  Twenty-one years of babying him, holding his hand, propping him up, dealing with his various issues, moving all over the place, taking care of him, telling him he was the most special boy who ever lived, and defending him ferociously against anyone who would go against him.  Twenty-one years of listening to him whine, bitch, and complain.  Twenty-one years of doctor’s appointments, ER visits and the like.  Twenty-one years of him being miserable and unhappy about one thing or another.  Twenty-one years, everybody. He couldn’t give me two.

I Think Therefore I Am

 

You know, sometimes I can’t believe he has turned out to be such a turd.  Such a worthless, cowardly turd.  I never would have expected him to cheat in a million years.  Even with what he did two years ago.  Despite the fact that I was shell shocked that he had even had a texting/sexting relationship with someone else.  I found that hard to believe, and yet he did it.  It supposedly never got physical.  I guess I believed he got caught up in some kind of fairy tale romance but stopped it before there was any actual sex.  Reality is it simply wasn’t convenient.  Only morons choose mistresses that live over a thousand miles away.  It really does make it more difficult to meet up when you have to buy a plane ticket in order to go fuck your whore.  Then again only those who are really really REALLY stupid agree to move closer to the so called “former” mistress.  Yes, I certainly made it much more convenient for him this time around.  Now he can work all week and live in our house, and then pack his bag and take off to her house each and every weekend (save two, if we’re going to be accurate).

He graduated from, let’s call it East Dull, where they pound honor and duty into their heads.  His mom and sister both thought no woman would ever want him and were so happy that he found someone.  I was regaled with tales of how he read encyclopedias on the weekends instead of going out, how socially awkward he was.  He himself said he didn’t take hints very well and that he didn’t do well in social situations.  Our own daughter used to tell me often, “Mom, if you ever leave Dad he’s going to be alone for the rest of his life.”  His mom told me once that when he first got out of the army he didn’t know if they were going to honor his non-active duty status and he might have to pay back all of his tuition for East Dull.  He was crying and telling her he would never be able to get married and have a family.  His mom also told me he had once told her that if he found a wife who would just have his dinner ready for him every night he’d give her the world.  Lies!

I thought I chose a good one.  I thought wrong.

Why Didn’t You Take the Deal?

I’m a big fan of Criminal Minds.  Anyone else out there a fan?  Do you remember the first episode that had the Reaper in it?  They discover he made a deal with the sheriff or police chief, I’m not sure which.  If the chief stopped looking for him, he would stop killing.  Now, the chief is dying and the deal is going to end.  He tries to broker a new deal with Aaron Hotchner but Aaron won’t take it.  This ends badly.  Very, very badly ultimately because SPOILER ALERT eventually, many episodes later, he ends up killing Aaron’s wife.  But in this episode he ends up boarding a bus and slaughtering a group of innocent bus riders.  He calls Aaron and tells him, “You should have taken the deal!”  Or was that the cliffhanger when he confronts him in his apartment?  Anywho…

Now, I’m not about to go out and hunt down a bus full of innocents.  I do, however, sometimes wonder why STBX didn’t take his out when he first had the chance.  Why didn’t he take the deal?  Two and a half years ago I caught him in an emotional affair and demanded he choose between the two of us.  If you want her, go to her, but I will not be your safety net.

Her answer is, of course, he couldn’t liquidate his assets quickly enough, so he stayed with me (and dumped her).  Oh, you stupid, stupid little bitch.  Do you not realize it doesn’t matter how quickly he can liquidate assets because they are already marital property?  He can spend every dime but he still has to cough up half to give to me.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t had time to move us across the country and he figured I would be willing to stay put if he left.  Hell, maybe he was going to leave but she chickened out at the last minute.  I don’t know.  I suppose it’s not important.  I just keep thinking (well, not really; occasionally it pops into my mind) about how he told me he was ready to hop in his car and come get me and the kids if I didn’t return home from my mom’s house.  If you recall, my stepdad died days before I made my discovery.  We had already purchased airline tickets to go out for the funeral.

He could have left then.  He had the perfect opportunity.  Instead he told me he didn’t want to lose any of us.

A few months later I find out about his plans to marry her.  Again, he could have left but he chose not to.  Hell, he wanted to renew our wedding vows!

A year and a half ago we were moving across the country.  The house was sold, bought out by his company, a sure thing.  Things were looking rocky between her and her husband.  He could have got out then.  Said, “Sam, I think it’s best if you and the kids don’t come on out here with me.  I’m in love with Harley and despite our best efforts I don’t think we’re ever going to be able to put our marriage back together.  The house is sold.  Let’s split the proceeds and start the divorce proceedings.”  But no!  We buy an even more expensive house, fill it with new furniture, get a new car, put a pool in the backyard… He systematically dismantled my life and the lives of my children in order to get us out here.  He could have been free but he chose to keep himself entangled.  Why?  Why didn’t he “take the deal”?

I realize I’m trying to understand that which cannot be understood.  I’m trying to explain that which cannot be explained.

It’s just that I look back sometimes and I think, “WTF were you thinking?  Why?  Why did you do half of this shit?”  He could have stopped construction on the pool.  He could easily have said, “Sam, I’m not willing to get a loan.  I think we should wait until next summer.”   Or, when we found out that excavating the rocks was going to cost another $11,000 he could have said, “Sam, that is way too much money!  We budgeted x amount and now you’re telling me it’s going to be y amount.  We don’t have it.”   BAM!  $57,000 saved!  No, instead he says, “This better be worth it!”  He reignited his affair with his whore of a cousin as he watched the construction all summer long.  Even sent me pictures. How fucked up do you have to be to do that?  Or even better, once the affair was already underway I asked him how much stock we had to sell because I was getting worried about the cost; whatever wasn’t covered by cashing in stock was going to have to come out of savings.  He assured me we had plenty.  I told him in that case I was going to go with the more expensive stamped concrete.  He never said a word!  Hey, asshole, that might have been a great time to say something like, “Sam, the other stuff is fine.  Let’s not spend anymore than we have to.”  But no!  Carry on with your whore while we spend a few thousand more.

Our cats died last year.  My daughter begged me to let her take home a stray.  He could have put his foot down.  No more cats!  He didn’t.  This was much earlier in the year so perhaps he wasn’t cavorting with Harley at the time.  But I’m pretty sure they had established contact by the time Memorial Day rolled around and she wanted to bring home a kitten.  I told him about it.  He could have said, “No more cats!  This is crazy!”  But no, he just let it happen.

Of course, when you’re willing to walk away from all of it and leave your betrayed spouse to pick up all the pieces and take care of everything I suppose you don’t really care what happens.  It sure would have been nice to have that extra money, though, instead of sinking it into a hole in the ground.  Hey, Cousinfucker, most people don’t put a fucking pool in their backyard only to move a year later.  It’s not really profitable.  Dumbass!

The only thing I can think of that makes sense is that he had his own very personal time table and he didn’t want to show his hand.  If that cost him a bunch of extra money… oh well.  I suppose it was worth it to him.  Me?  Well, I sure as hell wish he had “taken the deal” and gotten the fuck out of our lives before all of this went down!

Why Do I Feel Guilty Some Days?

I talked to someone who knows him the other day.  Serendipity.  She texted with some information and I ended up calling her and telling her the whole story.  Long story short:  She’s glad I got out.

I do still struggle with the idea that all of this is my fault and I sometimes feel like I need someone who is impartial to be able to tell me if I’m right or wrong. So, I have a therapist I see a few times a month and she’s helping me to work through those feelings of guilt.

This is how I blame myself.  I think:  Gee, if only I *had* focused on the future.  If only I had left well enough alone.  If only I had embraced his family after the huge betrayal and accepted the fact that they would never cut ties with her.  If only I had stopped snooping on her, stopped focusing on her.  If only I hadn’t lost my shit upon seeing my MIL tell the whore how pretty she was, knowing full well that they had had an inappropriate relationship.  That is what sparked the creation of the Facebook page which I used as a blog.  That, of course, leads to if only I hadn’t created that Facebook page.  If only I hadn’t used the name I used.  If I had kept it bland and generic instead of getting snarky I probably never would have been found.  As long as he believed that I was happy and had forgiven him things were good. Hell, I *had* forgiven him; I moved across the damn country for him!  I think it’s more appropriate to say that as long as he believed that I was 100% happy all the time and that I had completely forgotten any and everything having to do with his emotional affair then things were good.  Things were good as recently as Thanksgiving last year.  Hell, I really didn’t know there were problems until after Christmas.  If only I had let go of all the hurt and pain and concentrated only on the happy parts of life.  If only I had made more of an effort to acclimate to the new town.  If only… if only… if only…

I sometimes think that I drove him crazy, or at least to suicidal thoughts.  That if I had forgotten all about the whore and focused only on us and what was going well in our lives then none of this would have happened.

I wonder what would have happened if I had spoken up.  If I had approached the elephant in the room.  Would things have been different?  When should I have done this?  When he was hospitalized?  When he was home?  When he was crying?  When he was having a rare good day?  When?

Was it something I did?  Should I have given more?  Should I have sat upstairs with him in the bedroom? Should I have insisted he come downstairs and sit with me?  Should I have checked on him more?  Should I have been more adamant about him joining in on family activities?  Did I not love him enough?  Was I not sympathetic enough?  Did I not do enough when he was supposedly going through all of his anxiety issues and PTSD?  Was I not patient enough?  Was it my fault because I fell asleep on the couch even though I knew how important it suddenly was to him that I sleep in the same bed after years of being unwanted there because of my snoring?  Was I not available to him sexually enough?  Could I have saved our relationship somehow through plentiful sex?

I sometimes feel like I deserve this.  Or asked for this in some way.

And I know that’s all kinds of fucked up.  Cheaters cheat because they feel entitled to cheat.  They cheat because they have poor character.  They cheat because they are cowards.  I had said soon after the first affair ended that I worried about what would happen the next time he was feeling neglected.  Turns out I was right to be worried.  He did exactly what I feared.  Intellectually I know that no amount of sex would have kept him faithful. No amount of checking up on him or sitting with him while neglecting my kids would have kept him faithful.  Sleeping in the same bed every damn night no matter what wouldn’t have kept him faithful.

He cheated because she was a fresh start- someone who doesn’t see his faults, someone who promises to be everything to him that I’m not, someone who will “appreciate” everything he does for her.  He cheated because he was convinced that I hated him and I was going to leave him.  He was a coward with such poor character that he decided he would strike first and leave me for the mistake he made two years prior.  Why do the difficult work of rebuilding with your wife when there’s a whore willing and waiting?  Why risk having your wife leave you because she can’t pretend you never betrayed her?  Take the downgrade; you’ll never have to worry about her  throwing your affair in your face.  He cheated because he couldn’t face the facts and instead wanted to pretend that he had never done anything wrong with the whore- ever; he wanted to pretend the first affair never happened and that that period of time never existed.  No, scratch that.  He cheated because he wanted ME to pretend he had never done anything wrong.  He wanted ME to forget how he betrayed me.  And when he realized it wasn’t as easy as saying, “Oops!  My bad!” he took the low road.  He pouted and he stomped his wittle feet and he went crying boo hoo hoo to anyone who would listen because HOW DARE I NOT FORGET HE CHEATED? HOW DARE I NOT CONCENTRATE ON HOW INCREDIBLY LUCKY I WAS THAT HE CHOSE ME INSTEAD OF THE WHORE?  DIDN’T I REALIZE I SHOULD BE THANKFUL EVERY DAY THAT I STILL HAD AN INTACT MARRIAGE?  Hmmmph- he’ll just have to go find someone who does!

The truth of the matter is I doubt myself despite everything I have just written because if there is some *reason* he did this, if there is something I did or didn’t do to make him do this, then I could have fixed it, or at the very least I won’t have to worry about doing that same thing with someone else. Sadly, nothing would ever be enough. I know that.

I know he could have talked to me instead of talking to everyone who encouraged him to leave me.  That might have been difficult though and fair, delicate CF doesn’t do difficult.

Hell, he could have left instead of spiraling downward and then starting up yet another affair with the whore.  My 13 year old knows enough to know that’s the proper way to do things.  Leave.  Then start up a new relationship.  It’s not the other way around.

No, instead CF decided he was entitled to cheat on me.  He was entitled to get his new life up and running while I was still thinking we were married and committed.  Instead of telling me he was hurt or disappointed by what he saw, instead of asking me about any of it, he just found and fucked a whore.  And then turned around and gave her a whole bunch of money.  I think that may be the worst part because I knew at that point there was nothing left to salvage.

I’ll let you in on a little secret.  I pretend to be brave.  I know people say, “Oh, good for you for divorcing his lying, cheating ass!  Don’t put up with his crap.”  And I will tell people who ask or comment that yes, I marched my ass down to the lawyer’s office less than 48 hours after finding out, and filed for divorce not long after that.  The reality is I didn’t have a choice.  I had to file in order to protect myself and my kids; I was afraid that he was going to quit his job, take or blow all of our money, and leave the state to be with her.  I could see the writing on the wall.  The first time around they never met up, or if they did they had 2 chances since we lived so far apart.  He wasn’t funneling money to her.  He didn’t have a separate bank account.  This time around, though, he was meeting up with her- every weekend.  They were having sex.  He was giving her money and told her he would pay for her divorce.  He was meeting her kids and making them all sorts of promises of grandiose gifts and treasures.  He was cashing in stock and putting it into his new separate account.  Even if I wanted to stay and try to work things out I know he never would have agreed.  So I filed.  I wasn’t brave; I was practical.

He then turned around and accused me of stealing every dime he makes and told others that I only stayed for the money (Satan talks as though he has a healthy trust fund somewhere).  He once told me that he felt like nothing more than a wallet and a handyman. Well, he’s tossing money around like it’s candy.  He’s reducing himself to a wallet.  Maybe he realizes that’s the only thing he has to offer.

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!

The Whole Sad Story, Part 2

I think this part of the story, though the most devastating, will probably be the shortest.

He was having more and more difficulty dealing with every day life.  He would retreat to our bedroom and not interact with any of us unless we went to the bedroom to see him.  He talked about his “anxiety” quite often, including how much he hated driving.  He said even making the short drive to work was taxing on him.  He told me he didn’t think he could go on vacation with us; it was too far from home and he needed to stay close by.

As luck would have it, the same week that the kids and I left to go on vacation he supposedly had a business trip about 6 hours away.  Stupid me with all my pluckiness helped coach my darling husband through this upcoming drive.  I was right there, cheering him on, telling him how fabulous he was and how he could do this!  Great news- he made it!  He was able to get in his car and drive.   Bad news… spoiler alert… he fucked a whore.

While on vacation I found out he had sent his mom yet another $500.  He had been sending his mom money all summer long, helping her out with groceries.  It was a little frustrating to see that he had sent a huge chunk while we were on vacation but I let it go.  The day he was supposed to return home I checked on him to ask him when he was leaving.  “Oh, I have to stay an extra day.  They couldn’t get the machine to work.”  He later told me since he was so close to his mom’s he was going to go see her, especially since he had just regained his new driving skills.  “Are you mad?” he asked me.  I assured him I wasn’t and told him it was his mom and how could I say no.  In retrospect, let me count the ways!  Then I discovered a debit payment from a store in the whore’s town.  I immediately asked him why there was a charge to Whore Town.  He had no idea!  He had given his mom his card information so she could make a purchase before he got into town but she had gone to a different city.  He had no idea why it showed up as Whore Town.  Does anybody see the red flags here?  Yes, I was an absolute idiot.  I guess when you want to believe something badly enough you’ll excuse away almost anything.

He seemed a little distant once he came back home but he explained it away by saying he was having some bad days and wanted to shield me from them.  For my part I told him that I was his wife and we were a team and I wanted to be there for him.  We would work through all of this together and it was going to get better.  I told him how proud I was of him for being able to make the drive; that was such a huge step!  The plucky heroine kept insisting she was going to love him through this!  Things were going to get better!  You can drive again!  Now we’ll just tackle that social anxiety and the PTSD and we’ll be on the road to happily ever after!

About ten days after he got back he found out a cousin of his had died.  Now keep in mind this cousin is about ten-fifteen  years older and he hadn’t seen him much, if at all, in twenty years.  Nonetheless, he was determined to go to the funeral.  When I told him our daughter wanted to go with him so she could see her grandparents he immediately vetoed that idea, saying that it was no place for her to be and she didn’t need to see that.  He tells me the funeral is on Friday so he’ll leave Thursday and come back on Friday after the funeral.  Short visit, right?

Oh no!  I ask him on Friday if he’s still coming home and he proceeds to tell me how they’ve switched the day of the funeral.  He swears up and down that they told him it was one day at one time and now they’re saying it’s the next day, at a completely different time.  So he’ll be staying until Sunday.  Then Sunday comes and I ask him if he’s leaving so he’ll get home before it’s dark.  No!  He wants a new challenge so he’s going to drive home when it’s dark to see if he can do that!  I then get a text message around 11:30 telling me that he had his mom’s keys in his briefcase and he had to turn around and take them back to her so he’ll leave the next day.  He finally gets home around 5:30 the next evening.  Again, anyone else seeing the incredibly huge red flags?

Here’s another one for you.  His sister posts a picture of the two of them together.  Once again the whore is liking his picture.  To make matters even worse the whore’s sister mentions how she saw him at “the family reunion” and it had been years since she’d seen him.  I’m thinking, “What reunion?”  Darling husband never mentioned a family reunion.  She had seen him at this family reunion?  Maybe she was talking about a reunion 20 plus years ago and that damn auto correct changed ‘had’ to ‘has’.  It HAS been years since I’ve seen him.  And to add to my paranoia there was yet another charge in Whore Town.

My gut was screaming at me the entire time he was gone.  I walked around like a zombie, telling myself that I was overreacting.  I told myself that I was just hypersensitive because of what had happened before.  “He loves you!  He wouldn’t do this to you again!  You just moved here!” I told myself.  I barely ate.  At one point I went down to my daughter’s room to see if she wanted to get something to eat and she told me she was terrified that her dad and I were going to get divorced.  When I asked her why she thought that she told me it was because her dad hadn’t shown any emotion lately and I wasn’t acting like myself.

I got a message from her husband the evening that my husband got back home.  He told me that my husband had been spending the last two weekends with the whore in Whore Town and he thought I should know.  With that the bottom dropped out of my world.  I held it together though.  I asked him if they were still married and he told me my husband was paying for their divorce.  He gave me his number and we talked for about 30 minutes.

I found out that he had been giving her money all summer long.  All that “grocery money” was actually going to his whore.  Wow- now all of a sudden it makes sense why he didn’t want to send a check.  Those charges to the store in Whore Town were purchases for her.  My husband was making pancakes for her kids, throwing money at them, promising to buy them a dog, promising to buy her oldest child a car.  His MOM was the one who encouraged her to call him and make contact since he was “so sad”.  Yes, encourage his former mistress to call him and cheer him up.  That sounds like a great plan.  What could possibly go wrong?  That family reunion?  That happened the first weekend he went to go see his mom.  Yes, pretty much a year to the day that our furniture was being delivered to our new house my darling husband was fucking his whore of a cousin.  The funeral?  Oh, his mother and his whore went with him.  I’m so glad he had lots of support.  I was also told that according to the whore I knew about their affair and I didn’t care.  I think my favorite part has to be the story she tells about how he would have dumped me the last time but he couldn’t “liquidate his assets” quickly enough.  Those were both things she had told her husband to rub salt in the wound.

I later found out that the phones he had purchased for his mom and stepdad weren’t for them at all. Yes, he laid that trap quite nicely.  As his mother’s birthday approached he told me he was thinking of buying her and his stepdad new phones and putting them on his plan since they only had pay as you go phones.  When a letter came in from his phone carrier letting him know he had been approved for new phones he explained that away by saying it was for his mom and stepdad.  What a good son!  It turns out he instead bought new phones for his mistress and her daughter when her husband took them off of his plan.  He’s currently paying their phone bill on his corporate card.  Again, so many things make sense now.  When he kept making reference to getting phones for his parents I asked him why he didn’t just put them on my account.  Oh, he got a discount through his work which made it more practical to go with this other provider.  Incidentally, my cell phone carrier is much less expensive- probably $100 less expensive. Nothing but the most expensive for the whore and her kid, I suppose!  I’ve also since learned that he has indeed put a deposit down on the damn dog and his whore is wearing a diamond ring.

When I dug a little deeper I discovered withdrawals from our savings account, withdrawals that occurred throughout the summer.  My husband *never* takes money out, and if he ever does it’s certainly not the maximum withdrawal amount.

He got back home on Monday, I found out he was cheating on me later that night.  On Tuesday I called around to make an appointment for a consultation and on Wednesday I met with the first lawyer to see what my options were. On Thursday I sent him a text asking him when he was planning on going to see his best friend.  Oops, he was already on his way.  He thought he had told me and he was going to say goodbye but I was gone so long he didn’t have a chance.  Mmm hmm. This turned out to be an exciting weekend.

I confirmed with her husband that my darling husband was planning on spending the weekend with her and I had him tailed to her house. Even got pictures for my lawyer.  I also found out he had cashed in the last bit of his stock and had it wired overnight.  Now that was strange because there wasn’t a deposit in OUR account. Oh, lightbulb moment- he’s got a secret, separate account.  The coup de grace though must have been when I was told he was interviewing for a job about thirty minutes away from her, which obviously meant in another state.

This whole entire time he is playing it off like he’s at his friend’s house.  He had problems with his debit card and I offered to drive it to him. Actually, what happened was I knew he had a separate account at this time and he had just received a new debit card in the mail.  I asked him if his had expired and when he said no I put on my thinking cap and said, “This must have been a mistake!  I’ll call the bank and see what’s up!”  When I later went to the bank I used his new debit card to see if there was a separate account.  Turns out once the new card was activated the old card was useless.  He had tried to buy gas and his card was declined and confiscated.  Oops!  He was pissed.  I tried to soothe things over and that’s when I offered to drive to Best Friend’s House with the new card.  Oh no!  I’m good.  I’ve got cash and I’ll use my credit card.  He actually had the audacity to try to get me to send him naked pictures!

He got back early Monday morning (like 3 am) and I met with my lawyer on Tuesday and signed the papers to set the divorce in motion.  I didn’t figure I could wait any longer.  Who knows what the hell he would do in the next few weeks?

This is the best part though.  Everyone I’ve ever told this story to has looked at me like, “WTF?”  A few have even said exactly that.  We had a large amount of money in the checking and savings accounts for the pool we had just put in.  Our contractor hadn’t been paid yet.  When my darling husband wasn’t home by 1 am after I had discovered the stock transfer and the job interview earlier in the weekend I figured I really couldn’t wait any longer to protect myself and the kids.  He had given her thousands of dollars over the summer and I didn’t want to give him the chance to take all that money and run.  As I was driving to sign the papers at my lawyer’s office he asked me if I had paid the pool off yet.  I replied that I hadn’t.  He then goes on to ask me why I transferred all the money out of the accounts, to which I replied, “Because you’re fucking the whore and giving her money.  I figured I needed to protect myself and my kids.”  Without missing a beat he says, “Ok, I understand then.”  About thirty minutes later he sends me another text.  I swear this is true; I couldn’t make this up if I tried.  He says:  Where are you?  Are we still having spaghetti for dinner or do I need to make something?

The End