An Open Letter to Cousinfucker, Part 1

January 2016

I wrote this shortly after I received the famous text from CF.  I never sent it.  It got to be way too long; I essentially vomited up twenty plus years of rage and frustration and I figure if I was lucky he might read two or three sentences.  Nonetheless, I’m quite proud of it and I thought I would share.  Most of this is undoubtedly a repeat of things I’ve already shared.  There’s only so much that happened in the beginning and since I don’t speak to him if I can help it I don’t get a lot of new material.  Anyway, here it is.  Enjoy!

Sam, let’s try to figure out a way to make this less stressful for all involved. I am saddened that you felt compelled to toss out all of my memories and my clothing.  There are so few of them in this house.  In spite of all that has happened we have a history and that cannot be erased no matter how badly you want it to go away.  So you have a choice.  You can be bitter and hateful toward me, or respect the fact that I am setting you free of the burden of being my wife.  I know you will take a hit financially but you will be well provided for, we both know that.  My attorney has you covered for the rest of your life.

So stop all of this foolishness.  Let our children know I love them and let’s act like adults and come to a healthy relationship apart from all of this.  I respect you as a mother and you have followed me around the country and I am grateful to you for that.  Let’s build a future relationship that we can both be happy for each other and our children and show them that happiness and being whole are vital to a person’s future.  I read everything you wrote on your fake Facebook page.  I know you have been very unhappy.  It’s evident in what you wrote and your depression has heightened in the past two years.  I know you will be whole without me, we aren’t good together.  So all that said I want you and I to work on this.  To be grown up about it for the sake of our children.

I am not even sure where to begin with your long rambling text so I suppose I’ll begin with the obvious.  I’m not sure who you wrote that for but it wasn’t for my benefit.  Quite frankly, I’m not even sure you wrote it yourself. Secondly, you are not a victim so it would be refreshing if you could stop acting like one.  You are also not a hero so please stop acting like you’ve somehow done me a favor by cheating on me.  Again.

Do not patronize me with your “Let’s stop this foolishness and figure out a way to make this less stressful.”  Do you know how you could have made this less stressful?  You could have refrained from having sex with your cousin while you were married to me.  You could have refrained from having sex with your cousin while your children and I were on what was supposed to be a family vacation, a vacation (and family) you blew off so you could have sex with your cousin.  You could have refrained from moving me and your children 2000 miles across the country, uprooting our lives for *your* happiness, only to turn around and start up yet another affair with your cousin.  You could have been an adult and talked to me instead of turning to people who have never been there for you during your many crises.  You could have refrained from siphoning off thousands of dollars to your mistress while you lied about it and fed me a line of bullshit about it being for your mom.  You could have stood up and tried to act like a man instead of trying to convince yourself and everyone around you that you’re some hapless victim.  And as far as making this less stressful for everyone… what on earth about this is stressing you out?  You do whatever you want!  You live here during the week not caring whether there is enough in the bank account to pay bills or not, and then you take off every weekend to be with your mistress and her kids, spending money like it’s growing on trees and having yourself a fine time.

I have spent the last 2 years walking a tightrope for you, protecting you and being respectful of all your “issues”. I hid your affair from everyone in my family.  I let you get away with directing how I was allowed to heal.  I was even at the point where I was accepting the fact that your mom was going to continue to have a relationship with your mistress.  And what have you done?  You’ve thrown me under the bus time after time.  Not only that but you’ve actually had the audacity to act like you were somehow protecting me while throwing me under the bus! Half the time (if not more than half) you’ve told outright lies about me. Let’s not forget the biggie- you started screwing your cousin!  I don’t know why I continue to be amazed at how you can cheat on me, not once but twice (and with the same “woman” no less!) and yet still manage to act like you are the injured party.

To be continued…

 

2015 Wrap Up

December 2015

Apparently my dumbass didn’t go to work yesterday either.  Now I’m beginning to wonder if he brought the whore up to our current state with him for these four days and he’s leaving the car with her.  I don’t know why he would since she doesn’t know her way around.  Kind of bizarre to think she’d drive him to work and then take the car on home.  It’s tempting to have someone go ring the doorbell and see if he answers the door or if she does.  Anyway….

I’ve decided to do my 2015 wrap up today instead of waiting until tomorrow.

As you might imagine 2015 has SUCKED!  I am seriously wracking my brain to think of a year that has sucked more than this one.  I think my senior year of high school might be a close second but that actually occurred over two years.  And I was a hell of a lot younger and able to absorb the blows.

So let’s start at the beginning.  2015 began with my loving husband starting his downward spiral.  Lots of drinking.  Lots of crying.  Lots of “PTSD” symptoms.  Thank you, American Sniper.  You gave him a narrative.  He ended up hospitalized towards the end of the month due to some sort of a bug.  That was the infamous, “She was making fun of me when I was DYING!” episode, despite the fact that I had never done any such thing and had instead sat by his side and kissed his ass as usual.  Apparently I didn’t grovel well enough.

The following month he ramped up the crazy, with lots of texts to his manipulative sister and probably his jackass “best friend”, frequent visits from the pastor of a church we had attended ONE time, still much drinking and crying, and then SURPRISE!!!! let’s add in a visit to the psych ward after suicidal ideations.  I got to spend HOURS in an empty ER room with him (because they remove EVERYTHING from the room when a person is suicidal) while trying to coordinate care of my two kids who were at school at this time.  Then I would drive to the hospital every day for the two hours of visitation that were allowed each day.  I brought him magazines and books and gum; I advocated for him.  I called him each day.  MY family all came to visit while his family (with the exception of one sister) all called him from the comfort of their own homes.  Incidentally, his family all live a minimum of 4 hours closer to us than my family does.  My mother drove 13 hours to come see him- at his request!  Why?  Because my family was more of a family to him than his own.  Of course it was, asshole; that’s why when Harley reappeared you turned to your own morally bankrupt family.

He came home and there weren’t many changes made.  He continued to hang out upstairs in the bedroom.  Refused to hang out with us in any of the main areas of the house.  Hell, I can recall asking him if he wanted to sit out on the enclosed porch with me and he shook his head, telling me he felt more comfortable upstairs in the bedroom.

March and April there was more of the same.  The migraines started back up again in late March/early April.  That’s a fun 2 week period where he’s basically bed ridden with a succession of migraines.  I’m taking him to the doctor’s for medication, trying to keep everything quiet and calm for him so he can sleep.  Once those are finally done he continues to have breakdowns.  Like, need to leave the restaurant, crying in public, breakdowns.  All of which his kids think he faked for sympathy and to justify why he did what he ended up doing.

His best friend showed up in April.  I think this is probably the time my dear, traitorous MIL encouraged Harley to call and offer him a blow job.  Oh, I’m sorry- encouraged her to call him to “cheer him up” since he was “so sad”.

My own state of mind at this time was not good.  I was still trying to adjust to this move.  I cried a lot.  Hell, I even taped messages for my friends and family to be played for them after my body was found.  THAT’S how desperate I was at that point.  I even said I thought he was messing around with her again.  Of course, the money didn’t start disappearing until June but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t begin up again sooner.  It may have taken him a few weeks before he decided to support his whore.  I was beginning to give up on just about everything.  I had written I was done with decorating and I was going to cancel the pool.

But I persevered, something Cousinfucker couldn’t do.  I signed the contract; I kept decorating.  I continued to deal with all the shit he shoveled my way, putting up with his moods, his anxiety, his breakdowns.  I made his damn appointments for him and went along with him.  I STILL found instances of him throwing me under the bus and it would infuriate me.  Accusing me of only staying for the money.  Of never checking on him.  Of hating him.  Of me leaving him alone to cry in the bedroom.  Poor, poor sad sausage.  Get your story out there, baby.  Let everyone know how mistreated and abused you are.

May passed with construction on the pool finally beginning.  Probably one of the few bright spots in the year.  That’s also the month he brought up purchasing phones for his “mom and stepdad”.  So generous of him.

Most of June the kids and I were gone visiting family and friends.  He was definitely fucking around with Harley then.  And lying to my face about what he was doing. He opted out of celebrating Rock Star’s birthday with her because “he didn’t want to ruin it for her”.  Yeah, right.  June was a fairly decent month for me, though.  I was happy to see family and watch as Queen B graduated and be able to celebrate that with her.  I was happy to get back to my former state and see all of our friends, go to some of our favorite places like the reservoir and the varied restaurants we no longer got to frequent.  I stayed in pretty constant contact with my philandering asshole.  I sent text messages.  I occasionally called.  I would send pictures if I went shopping and was going to buy something.  Oh, he was so complimentary.  Telling me I looked so good, so sexy.  He’s such a liar.

We got back home right before July.  Again, he opted out of the birthday dinner for Picasso.  Nice.  I seem to recall a lot of sex, or at least messing around, before he decided he just didn’t think he could ever get it up again and he didn’t want me to try because he didn’t want confirmation of it.  Nicely done, Asshole!  I’m still not sure Harley was on board with you messing around with me twice a day, though.

Of course, he declined to go on our family vacation with us.  Too stressful.  And then he drove to his “business meeting” after being coached by me and his therapist (fucking asshole- him, not the therapist) and onward to his home state where he definitely hooked up with Harley and fucked the whore.  When we got back from Florida and he got back from Kentucky he had plainly changed.  I didn’t know what the hell was going on.  Then there was the added bonus that he suddenly began making trips, spreading his wings.  There was the funeral he refused to take his daughter to.  His trip to visit “Blockhead”.  All lies.  All continued while he spent the summer funneling thousands of dollars to that whore.

Finally, August arrives.  The pool is completed.  Six days later I’m told my husband is fucking Harley.  My world imploded.

I’ve spent the rest of the year taking care of my two kids, putting together evidence for my lawyer, being the responsible one while he acts like he’s single and child free.  I get the fun part of worrying about what the hell I’m going to do for money, what I’m going to do for insurance and how I’m going to afford it.  I get to worry about selling the house and fixing it up.  I get to worry about what I’m going to do with our 3 dogs and 3 cats.  I’m the one that gets to worry about trying to relocate and keep Rock Star where she is and then move once she graduates.  Basically, I get all the responsibilities and he gets to walk away and pretend like we never existed.  He gets a fresh start with no obligations, only a shiny little whore spreading her legs wide with four whining kids, blandly worshiping him so that he’ll buy them things.

I’m eager to put 2015 behind me but I fear 2016 won’t be much better.  My lawyer tells me he doesn’t think we’ll be done with the divorce until September or October, so most of the year will be spent trying to untangle our lives while not getting fucked up the ass by him.  He pulled the wool over my lawyer’s eyes this go round.  While he will be charged rent if he continues to live at the house it’s nothing compared to what he would have to pay once he’s out on his own.  $750 flat.  It’s doubtful he would be able to find that on his own.  My family is taking bets on whether or not he will move out.  My mom thinks he’s going to amp up his efforts to try to find a job closer to Harley.  My lawyer had damn well better be accurate when he says he will have already established a level of income once this order goes into action.  I would hate to see him quit his job before he gets this year’s bonus and then he gets out of paying me.  Wouldn’t put it past him though.

You know, it gets tricky, though, because Harley is expecting a certain standard of living.  If he quits his job and takes something that pays less that won’t bode well for his relationship with her.  Same thing with going to jail.  That will put a damper on the relationship.

Present Day Sam Says: Yeah, 2016 was no picnic either. I started off okay. Then I found out in February that CF quit his job and moved in with the whore. I still find it amazing that he drove 2 hours each way to work. I rebounded. And then got knocked down yet again when he texted me to let me know he had lost his job and wouldn’t be sending me anymore money. We were faced with the choice of trying to stay put and probably being evicted midway through Rock Star’s junior year, or biting the bullet and moving right then. I sold off whatever I could and left behind most of my possessions and moved 600 miles away, in with my mom.  I ran out of money.  I began working at Target, going in at 4 in the morning. A month later I got a second job at Kohl’s because my first job didn’t pay enough. I cried pretty much every day. My life was nothing more than working, sleeping and trying to get my kids where they needed to be. No joy. No hope.

The holidays sucked. Worst holiday season ever. I had to go in at midnight on Friday after Thanksgiving. I went in at 3 or 4 (probably 3) on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day was my first day off in 21 days.

My kids were forced to start all over. My son took to life in Indiana right away- had a great group of friends, liked his school (at least at first), liked living with his Nana. My daughter hated it here; I’m pretty sure she still does. The one bright spot in her life for months was her job. Gradually she spread her wings- first by getting on the winter cheer team, and then going out for track and loving it.

The one bright spot for me that year was getting hired on full time at the bank. It wasn’t going to pay me much but it was a full time job finally. I wouldn’t start until 2017 but I still counted it as one good thing that happened to me in 2016.

Now it’s almost 2 years later and things are a lot different. You’ll have to wait until later in the month before I finish my wrap up for 2017.

 

Trying To Make Sense of the Nonsense

 

March 2015

Let’s see them hack into this!  There is more than one way to skin a cat. At this point I switched over to journaling on my computer.

I’ve been thinking.  A lot.  Mainly about Jezebel and her comment, my favorite, about how he deserves so much better than me.  About my husband’s comment to his other sister, how it’s been 2 years and why can’t we just move on? About that sister and her snide message to me about me worrying about the house and then turning around and booking airline tickets. About being grateful.  About accepting reality.  About moving on. About pain shopping, which dovetails nicely with moving on.

OK, we’ll tackle moving on first.  It’s very difficult to move on when your husband doesn’t do the few basic things you’ve asked for in order to reconcile.  I told him that 1. He needed to send Harley a text and end things with her.  I wanted to see the text to prove that he actually sent it, and he was to have absolutely no contact with her after that. 2. He was to give up all passwords to me and remove the passcode from his phone. 3. We were going to attend marital counseling. 4. He was to never discuss our marital issues with Jezebel again.  What did he do?

Well, instead of sending her a text and ending it, he says he called her and ended it.  That’s nice, but that’s not what I wanted.  I had a purpose behind wanting you to send a text.  I wanted to see it in black and white.  I wanted to see him write:  My wife knows about you.  She gave me an ultimatum.  I choose her.  We’re done.  Don’t contact me ever again.  Did I get that?  No, I got the replay of his supposed phone call to her. And then I got her text which makes it look like he actually chose her and she ended it.  Furthermore, his response to her was based on not wanting to hurt her.  He felt bad for her.  Her- the mistress of 3 1/2 months.  Not me, the wife of almost 19 years.  I got a reply about honor and duty and obligation.  Not love.  Not choice.  Am I supposed to believe him without proof when I vividly recall asking him if she was worth losing his wife and kids, and he replied he knew he didn’t want to lose his kids?  Am I supposed to believe him when he would have sex with me and then turn around and walk out our door and text her good morning and then precede to talk to her on his entire 30 minute drive to work every.fucking.morning?  That is some strong faith, and if I’m not there yet so be it.  I figure I mainly believe him.  I only have doubts some of the time.  It’s been 2 years?  Nah, not really.  We’re coming up on 2 years of your half hearted confession where you couldn’t even admit you were doing something wrong, or that she was your whore.  You tried to make it sound like she was one of many and it was just a little texting.  No, it wasn’t.  It was her, and only her.  And you were telling her you loved her and you were telling other people you loved her and she made you happy and you were going to marry her. On top of that, you two were talking about sex and what all you were going to do to each other, and you were talking about a future together and she was sending you naked pictures.  It’s been 2 years since you tried to confess and pull the wool over my eyes at the same time.  It hasn’t been 2 years since I discovered the truth.  We’re at about 18 months for that.  18 months since I found out the extent of your lies and betrayal.  18 months since you told me you didn’t want to lose your kids.  18 months since you told me you hadn’t been happy in years.  18 months since you admitted that you two talked about sex, and how much you loved each other, and how much you wanted to be together.  18 months since you told me you two really really liked each other. 18 months since I received The Saint’s FB message asking me if I had gotten a good lawyer yet.  And we’re at 16 months since I discovered you bragging to your nephew about marrying her, after insisting to me that you two had no concrete plans.

So that’s part of the not able to move forward movement.  I don’t know.  I don’t know what their plans were.  I don’t know what all they talked about.  I don’t know how far into the planning it got. I don’t know that I was his first choice. I have no proof of that. Again, for all I know he called her up right after he got off the phone with me and told her I knew and I’d issued an ultimatum.  And then he told her she was his soul mate, his one true love, his very best friend, and the love of his life and there was no way he could give her up.  For all I know he told her, “I choose you, Harley!”  And Harley, being the manipulative, deceitful cunt that she is warned him that if I got wind of his choice that I’d probably run.  Maybe she even reminded him that I already had airplane tickets to fly to my home state in 2 days.  “If you want to keep your kids around, then you need to make sure she thinks you chose her.”  And then the good little whore proceeded to tell her husband she was leaving.  And her husband said, “Fine, but you’re not taking the kids.  They’re all disgusted with their whore of a mother.”  That’s when Harley finally realized she and my husband weren’t going to be forming their own version of the Brady Bunch, that there might be bumps in the way, and that the path to true love was not going to be a smooth one.  Maybe her kids gave her a ration of shit.  Maybe the two oldest told her they weren’t going to live with her.  It was at this point she decides it’s just not going to be worth it and that’s when she sends her bleeding heart text to Zack.

Is that really all that crazy?  Why is that version any less believable than the one he told me about?  At least in the second version I have her text ending it. It would be lovely if, instead, I had a text from him ending it.

What else did he do?  Well, he did in fact give me his passwords and take the code off his phone.  And to his credit he did recently offer to have my thumb print be one of the prints that could open his phone.

Marriage counseling?  He went but he didn’t really participate, and our counselor told us that is was pretty much a waste of time after 3 or 4 sessions. If we ever went again I think it would be interesting to hear his side of everything that happened.  It seemed to be mainly me talking because he didn’t much participate. I’ll give him credit for going when he didn’t want to, but I’m not giving him credit for anything else.  He didn’t participate and I don’t think we got much out of it. At this point in time I’m tired and I’m not willing to go again so I guess he’s safe.

And not discussing our marriage difficulties with Jezebel?  We both know that one went completely off the rails.  He performs a fucking Shakespearean soliloquy when he’s telling everyone all my faults and everything I’m doing to him, and I get a fucking one line reprieve when he pulls his head out of his ass.  I know that’s not a kind way to put it, but it pisses me off. And upon looking up how to spell soliloquy that’s not really the best description.  That’s what I perform on a daily basis when I’m raging!

That brings me to another point- the concept of the man in the middle. There is a poster on a board I like to read and she often says that many times you can look to the man in the middle as the source of conflict.  I’ve thought about that a lot and I believe it’s true, even with this.  He throws me under the bus to Jezebel, goes on and on and on about how horrible I am, and then says, “Oh, my bad!”  Is it any wonder she hates me?  He doesn’t tell her the good stuff.  He’s too busy getting his head patted when he’s the poor, oppressed little brother married to the evil, awful wife who uses him as a handyman and a paycheck. Man in the middle.  Have no doubt, I’m still not pleased with her encouraging him to leave me when he was fucking around.  And I’m definitely not pleased with her latest round. But he poured gasoline on the fire, and he did something I told him not to do ever again.

His mom and stepdad are another case in point.  I told him in therapy I didn’t like how Pastor Fake was gushing over Harley’s picture.  It was hurtful.  His attitude was, “I can’t control what he does.”  Then shortly thereafter his mom gets online and tells her she’s sooooooo pretty.  I unfriend them (they were sharing an account at the time) and probably blocked them at the time.  Undoubtedly unfriended them from my daughter as well, and blocked them.  I know she must have asked about it but instead of coming to me and saying, “Hey, what happened?  My mom says she’s blocked on both your and our daughter’s page,” he acts like he can’t control anything.  I keep thinking that if he had only pulled his mom aside in the beginning and said something along the lines of, “I know I created this mess, but if the two of you want to have a relationship with my wife and kids you’re going to have to distance yourself from my mistress.  It is upsetting to my wife to see the two of you acting all chummy with the woman I cheated on her with.  We both know we can’t control you and you can both do exactly as you want.  But I’m here to tell you that there is no way you can have Harley in your lives and have my wife and kids in your lives.  So you’re going to need to make a choice.”  Or even a much shorter, condensed version:  My wife can see you two gushing all over Harley, joking with her, telling her how pretty she is. You know that I cheated on her with Harley; therefore, she has no desire to associate with anyone that wants to be a part of Harley’s life.  It’s that plain and simple. You can have a relationship with my wife, or one with my mistress but you can’t do both. (Believe me, I tried! ba-dum!!!).

I think that’s part of not being able to move on, as well. I think I have made tremendous progress in accepting the fact that his parents will never turn their backs on Harley.  They will always be kind to her.  They will always compliment her.  She will always be around.  And I, in many ways, am forced to accept that. I’m forced to accept the fact that I will never be around for any family events because I don’t know if the whore will be there or not, and I don’t want to be there if she is.  I’m forced to accept (and I know this is morbid) that when his mom dies I’m going to be going through 3 levels of hell.  I’m going to have to deal with Zack and his grief, I’m going to have to deal with his bitch of a sister, and more than likely, his whore will show up. It’s very difficult to move on and forget about her when she is front and center all the time, or at least it feels like that.  She was praying for my husband last month.  Praying for him!  She has a front seat into the window of our lives.  Anything my in-laws post on FB about us, about my kids, that bitch can see. How do you move on from that? How do you move on from your in-laws thinking that your husband’s whore is a swell person?  I keep expecting her to show up at Thanksgiving and for them to offer up the use of their bedroom so he can fuck her.

I read about pain shopping yet again yesterday.  It’s not so much that I want to do that, it’s more I don’t want to be ambushed.  I guess when you don’t feel safe or confident you continue to look over your shoulder.  I don’t know that I was his first choice.  Hell, I don’t even know for certain that he’s not back in contact with her again.  I don’t know that someone won’t throw facts at me, facts of which I have been completely unaware of for over a year, which might result in my own downward spiral. I don’t look on her page that often.  I check every now and then to see if she’s got a new profile picture up.  I occasionally check my in-laws’ pages to see if she’s commenting or liking certain things.  Of course she is!  Good ol’ Harley can’t fade into the background. Oh no!  Look at me!  Look at me!

I know I’ve said it before and I will say it again.  Not knowing the bitch is being welcomed with open arms by all who know about her and Zack doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.  And closing my eyes and pretending like as long as I don’t see it everything is ok, is just living in a fairytale.  It does no one any good.  Eventually, you wake up and you discover the truth and you feel betrayed.  I’d just as soon get it out of the way.

I guess what it boils down to is can I accept what happened?  Sure.  I can accept it.  Doesn’t mean I like it.  Just like accepting who my in-laws are.  It hurts me very much knowing they can embrace the woman that almost tore my life apart.  But, I accept that that is who they are. When I am with them I enjoy being with them and I love them.  However, I will never have a close relationship with them again.  I simply cannot do that, not when they are still in contact with Harley and act like she has done nothing wrong. I will never be willing to go out of my way for them again. I don’t call.  I don’t confide.  I let Zack handle it. Honestly, I prefer to keep my distance because I’m afraid I’ll be sucked in if I get too close.

Can I accept the fact that I’ve been moved 2000 miles across the country to live in this Godforsaken town where I know almost no one?  Sure.  It’s reality.  I can pretend I don’t live here but what good would that do? I can pretend that we can go back to our former state but I know that we can’t.  Whose job is he going to take?  Especially when they just got a new GM and a new PM less than a year ago.  Where will we live?  Are we going to ask the new residents of our home to kindly move out because we’d like our house back?  No. If I’m being perfectly logical most newcomers to the area head over to two up and coming areas.  Our kids wouldn’t be going to school with their old friends; they’d be at a new school.  My daughter could go back to her old gym but she would be competing as a Level 8 once again, more than likely, and all of her former teammates would be 9s.  My son could play hockey again but he’s lost a year and he already started late so he’d be behind as well.  No, we are stuck here, at least for 7 years until they both have graduated from high school.  Then my husband can yank me away from my new life, and at the rate I’m going now that won’t be a bad thing. I’m so tired of hearing, “You need to get out there and meet people!  Volunteer! Take classes!”  Um, I’d love to meet people but that’s a little difficult when you’re 46 and not in school and don’t have a job. There are no classes to take. Quite honestly, I’m sick and tired of being the new person.  And volunteering?  Where would you suggest I volunteer?  The PTA?  They don’t seem to have many opportunities.  I’m supposed to go tonight for an after prom meeting where I will know no one and the woman in charge is going to ask me to solicit donations, which is something I absolutely hate to do. HATE IT! This gets me thinking that if everything PTA does needs to be funded with business donations I want no part in it. Oh, I also found out that I was sent an email to see if I wanted to volunteer at the book fair for the middle school.  It went to my junk mail and I didn’t get it until after the book fair was over. Lovely. I could go to a PTA meeting but again, I’m tired of putting myself out there.  I’m tired of being the new person.  I’m 46, for crying out loud!  My life should be settled.  I shouldn’t be scurrying around trying to find a whole new set of friends.

I tell myself to think back on all of our other moves.  OB was easy.  I had just turned 29 when we made the move. We went out with all of his co-workers.  And from that I became friends with some locals and they introduced us to other people. In the next state I started out by participating in an online group.  I got very lucky and those people met weekly.  I put myself out there and I joined their group. Gradually, other people joined in as well. Then, right before my daughter turned 2 I started going to church; when my son was an infant I volunteered to help in the nursery. A few months later I became a team leader in the nursery.  Gradually I did more. I became a small group leader.  I joined the meal team. I think when my son was around a year I joined MOPS.  I became part of the hospitality team with them.  I started a MOPS group at our church. I was there 6 years and it was gradual, but my calendar filled in.  Plus, it helped that I had family only 2 hours away. I think I found my online friends within the first 6-8 months. I was 31 when we moved back to State #2, just under 2 months before my 31st birthday. We moved a few months before I turned 38. In State #4 I think it began after I volunteered to join PTA.  It was about 5-6 months later.  The following year my daughter was competing so I made some friends that way. PTA just became a huge thing for me.  I met a ton of people that way.  And I met some people through my kids.  This time it just doesn’t seem as easy. I was 45 this time when I left. I’ve been here coming up on 8 months.  They have been the longest, loneliest 8 months of my life, I think. I don’t have online friends.  I don’t have a church. I don’t have PTA; it’s pretty much non-existent.  I certainly don’t have MOPS. My daughter competes alone most of the time. This next meet all of the girls meet together.  But here’s the thing:  most of the girls are young, like 10-11.  Their moms are young.  I don’t want to hang out with them.  I don’t need to be overrun with 30 somethings while I’m nearing death. I do have some parents I can sit with at the high school meets.  That’s nice.  But that’s it.  I know a few people on sight.  I’m still shocked when I run into someone I know at the grocery store because it happens so infrequently. I am grateful for the outpouring of support from the few people I do know when Zack was in the hospital.  Our neighbor called and offered to help with whatever we may need.  S offered to take my daughter to gymnastics.  C prayed for us and checked in on us, offering to run errands or bring a meal.  D took my daughter to gymnastics and grabbed food for both of my kids.  I felt very fortunate to have that help and those offers.

So, this is my reality.  I’m far from family.  I’m far from friends.  I’m not fitting in or finding a niche.  I really really hate it here.  I’ve booked tickets for me and Rock Star to go see the state gymnastics meet back in our former state at the end of the month.  I’m looking forward to that.  Can’t wait to be around friends again. Can’t wait to see all those cute little gymnasts that I get to cheer on for the first time this year.  I’ve missed this.

I’ll save Jezebel’s asinine comment about him deserving something better for later.

What Part of, “I’ve Forgiven Him!” Don’t You Understand?

February 2015

My MIL called me last night. She was checking up on my husband because she hadn’t been able to get ahold of him. She knew he had planned on going to church and was saying that she hoped he continued to go and that it helped, and that she had heard he was supposed to see a psychiatrist and she hoped that helped, too. Then she went on to say she hoped he got better and that we got back to where we needed to be. What? Um, we’re fine. She went on about how the past was the past and I needed to forgive him and she was sorry for anything she might have done to me and she hoped I would forgive her. Everyone makes mistakes. And she knows it’s difficult because she went through it with her own husband years ago.

There are so, so many things I want to address in all of this mess. I’m not sure I can focus enough to get it all out there. But first, I HAVE forgiven him. I moved 2000 fucking miles across the country and completely uprooted my children and their lives, along with my own, in support of him. I would call that forgiveness. If I wanted to dwell on what he had done I would have never moved. Because, once again, our current town will always be Whoreville to me. I’m here because of my husband and his whore and their sweet little plans to be closer together. No matter how much I may come to like it here (and that’s doubtful) it will always be tainted by the fact they plotted to move my family here so they could carry on their affair. It was all put into motion once she started promising blow jobs and anal sex. I’m still here, still living with him. If I was going to kick his ass out I would have done it when I first found out he was still lying to me and cheating on me. I’m not softening him up for the blow. And I don’t believe in staying with a cheater and then using that to throw in the cheater’s face for the rest of his or her life. If you’re going to stay, make peace with the situation. I know some people say you can rebuild without forgiving, so I won’t say forgive and move on. But, you definitely need to make your peace with it and I have made my peace with him. I even do my best to not think about why I’m living here, 2000 miles away from my friends, my support system, my social life, my volunteer activities, because if I were to dwell on it I would cry. Harley and Zack fucked my life up spectacularly. Once my loving husband set the wheels into motion they didn’t stop just because he supposedly stopped fucking around with his whore of a cousin. Nope, they were going to send him (us) here come Hell or high water. So, you wanna play the past is the past? Oh, you bet your sweet ass it is. I’ve buried that motherfucker deep because I would be overcome with rage if I didn’t.

As for being sorry for whatever it is she’s done to me… well, that’s nice, but since you don’t even realize what it is that you did I’m not sure it means that much to apologize for it. And once again, I’ve made my peace with it. They will never change. I love them but I can’t have a relationship with them like I used to. I have tried and tried to envision a way that I’m ok with loving them, hanging around with them, visiting them, supporting them, sharing holidays, vacations, memories with them, and all the time knowing they love and support her, my husband’s whore. I will never feel safe. I know the minute he decides to toss me aside and replace me they will welcome my replacement with open arms and I don’t know how to have a relationship with people like that. I wish I could live in the moment, not worry about the what ifs. But when you’ve already been confronted with that I think it’s more difficult to pretend like it won’t happen. Everything about it just feels false. Oh, you love me. Oh, now you don’t love me because my husband no longer wants to fuck me. It’s not me they want to have a relationship with. It is my title. Whoever assumes the title of his wife is the one they want to have a relationship with. At this point I don’t even feel comfortable attending family events because I always assume the whore has been invited as well. And that would not end well. If we are ever in the same space I am about 99% certain everyone in that space will know exactly what she and my husband did. I find the whole situation sad. I find it sad that I am undoubtedly cast as the bad guy even though I was the one that was cheated on, and Zack and Harley were the cheaters. I’m the bad guy even though Jezebel was the one who lied to me, encouraged my husband to leave me, and talked trash about me. That’s just the way it is with them. Then you add in the humiliation factor, wondering if everyone is talking about you, your husband’s affair, how you compare to the sainted whore, how sad it is that you got cheated on and what on earth you did to “deserve” it. It’s an all around yucky feeling.

They are planning on coming to visit over Spring Break and I’m now waiting for her to come at me over Jezebel. The past is in the past. Everyone makes mistakes. Again, I’m trying to envision a way I’m ok with anything beyond superficial niceties and I’m once again coming up blank. How do you reconcile the fact that the person you are spending holidays with, confiding in, and creating memories with, will turn on you the minute her brother decides he wants to fuck someone else? Maybe it’s easier for her because she’s spent her whole life using people for what they can give her. So, she takes everything her in-laws can do for her and laps it up and when she moves on to the next husband it’s no big loss because now she has a new set of in-laws that can do new things for her. Or, to put it another way: It’s not about the relationship she shares with these people. It’s what all that relationship gives her. It would be like having a SIL that takes you on lavish vacations and shopping sprees. You like the person ok, but when the relationship ends you miss everything your SIL did for you a lot more than you miss the actual person. I even try to envision spending time with her on a superficial level. I say hello, how are you. When asked how I am I say, “Fine.” It doesn’t go beyond that. How are things in Whoreville? Fine. How are the kids adjusting? Fine. Just keeping everything superficial. Not excited about anything. I try to imagine having to go to her new house and be polite. Meet new people that I will only see every 3-5 years. I honestly believe I would hate it. I would feel like I was crawling out of my skin. Having to feign interest in everything she has and has done. You can’t be too noncommittal because then you’re considered rude and once again, you’re the bad guy. But treating her like someone I actually care about and have an interest in? I’m a good actress but I’m not that good. Besides, I don’t care if everyone knows the relationship has changed. Trying to imagine sitting outside at her fire pit. I suppose I would listen as everyone talked and not join in. Nothing to say. I would play the part of the uninvolved observer. Quietly listening and observing, not interjecting my own thoughts because I don’t wish to give anyone a glimpse of me. See? All of that seems so terribly complicated. So much easier to just stay away. There is no relationship so why create an artificial one? For her? Why? I don’t give a fuck about what she wants. She didn’t care about me and what I might have wanted. I’d like to return the favor.

Wow- ok, I think I did get most of it out. I can’t think of anything else really. I just keep trying to imagine these re-structured relationships and I have an incredibly hard time wrapping my head around it. It’s so much easier to avoid it.

What He Should Have Said

December 2014

Still having a hard time wrapping my mind around my anniversary and my husband’s conversation with his sister. And can I preface this by saying when I’m actually with my husband and we’re spending time together I’m fine. It’s when I have lots of free time to think and dwell on all of this that I become enraged. And let’s face it: I have lots and lots of free time because I moved 2000 miles away from all of my friends and everything I was involved in to support him in gallivanting around the country in order to grab his dream job. So I have no friends and nothing to keep me busy, and therefore lots of time to think bad thoughts about all of this.

My first thought is this: Does he ever get tired of throwing me under the bus? I mean, ffs, he spent God only knows how long telling his sister how miserable he was with me; then he spent considerable time telling her how happy he was with his lying little slut and how he loved her. I think I got a one sentence reprieve the day he supposedly ended it with the whore: I’m going to work things out with my wife. Wow- no, “I’m madly in love with her and she’s the one I’ve always wanted,” or “I can’t believe what a jackass I was and how I almost threw away the love of my life for a lying, manipulative whore!” No, just a short sentence letting her know he was going to do the righteous thing and wait out his sentence with me. And when she whines about me to him he immediately begs her forgiveness and says he never should have tried to be happy. How so, my darling husband? Do you mean you realize Harley the Whore is your true soul mate and you’re simply destined to a life of misery with me but you never should have fought it and attempted to be happy with her? You should have just accepted a miserable life with me? Do you mean that you’re not happy with me, have never been happy with me and realize you’ll never be happy with me and you’re accepting that? Let’s think about this for a moment. You told your sister you felt like nothing more than a paycheck and a handyman, and that we lived like roommates. You then told her you were having an affair with Harley, you loved her and she made you happy, and you wanted to marry her. Jezebel, of course, is completely on board with this and vows to give you her unconditional support. Then you abruptly end things with the soul mate and tell her you’re working things out with me. No fanfare. Just a simple statement. And now you are once again implying you are unhappy. Because I don’t make you happy like your little whore that sent you naked pictures and told you how she’d suck your dick every day once you left me? Baby Jesus wept! Do you really think that’s the impression you want to give to your pro infidelity sister? Not to mention I was very clear that you were not to discuss any martial problems with her. While I realize we’re not having problems you are certainly making it seem that way to the patron saint of infidelity.

Here’s an idea. Instead of telling her you’re so sorry for ruining her relationship with me and how you never should have tried to be happy maybe you should have gone with something like: I’m sorry I ruined your relationship with her. If I hadn’t been a dumbass, willing to toss aside my wife and kids for a deceitful, manipulative whore who promised me mind blowing sex and sent me naked pictures, you would never have been in this situation. But I did, and you, Jezebel, were my biggest supporter. You were fully on board with me cheating and leaving my wife. You told me the only thing that mattered was what made me happy because I deserved it. My wife knows the part you played and no, she’s not happy. But if you’re going to be mad at anyone be mad at me. Hell, if you’re honest with yourself it’s not as though I had to beg you to support me. You were there immediately; you jumped in with both feet, no questions asked. You never once thought of my wife and what this might do to her. Never once thought of my kids and what a divorce might do to them. I do realize that wasn’t your responsibility; it was mine. But let’s not rewrite history and act like you were forced, kicking and screaming, to support me. I’m sure you thought I’d leave her and marry Harley. Sorry to disappoint you and leave you with egg on your face. I came to my senses.

And let me tell you another thing. If you want to bitch about my wife you bitch to someone else because I have her back. I’m going to support her like she’s supported me these last 20 years. She’s been by my side, cheering me on, believing in me, when no one else was around. She’s moved all over the country with me; she’s left her family behind. She’s held our family together and raised our kids when I’ve checked out. She could have left me when she found out but she chose to swallow her pride and work on this together. She took responsibility for her own failures in our relationship even when I half heartedly confessed back in May. The Saint told her the truth about us and how we had been lying to her for months, the day of our daughter’s birthday party, 6 days after her stepfather died, and 2 days before she had to get on a plane and be there for her mother. She put a smile on her face and made sure our kid had an amazing day even though she was dying inside, thinking I was going to leave her, that I was going to choose Harley. And then she got on that plane and she went to be with her mother and her family and she kept my dirty little secret, never telling any of them. Do you have any idea how difficult that was? She’s getting shit from her family for constantly being on the phone with me because I’m falling apart and we’re trying to work things out, and she never tells them what’s really going on. She just continued to try to balance us both. I don’t ever have to be around her family wondering if they hate me for what I’ve done because they don’t know. I don’t ever have to worry about things being awkward and them holding it against me because she protected me and kept it to herself. She, on the other hand, has to be around everyone in our family who knows what I did. She has to wonder if they think she’s stupid for staying, if they blame her for being a shitty wife because, let’s face it, I wouldn’t have strayed if she’d been a better wife. She has to contend with the fact that all of you continue to have a relationship with the woman with whom I cheated on her. She didn’t want to go to home with me this Christmas and face humiliation but she did it because she loves me and she loves her kids and she knew how important it was to us, especially to me. She sucked it up and faced everyone who knows I’ve cheated on her. I’m sure it wasn’t easy but she did it. For me.

She’s been there for me when I’ve been practically catatonic. She’s been there through all my anxiety issues. She’s begged me to get help. She’s made appointments for me, attended appointments with me, encouraged me, and patiently waited for me to want to get better because she knows she can’t do it for me. She’s put up with me opting out of family outings, never going with her, never wanting to show her affection, kicking her out of our bed for almost 8 years, never wanting to go out with friends, not helping out with the kids. She puts up with me when I’m feeling sorry for myself. She ate the show lettuce at a company dinner because I did and she didn’t want me to look stupid. She’s my rock when I’m falling apart. She’s there day after day supporting me, cheering me on, comforting me. Where are you? You got married and you no longer needed me, couldn’t be bothered to text anymore. I spent $500 to fly to your wedding because it was so important to you that I be there and you barely spent 5 minutes with me that entire weekend. I almost missed the damn thing because you sent me out for a liquor run. I’m in none of the pictures and if she’s being honest my wife to this day doesn’t fully believe I was there instead of with Harley. My wife gave up all of her friends, everything she was involved in and moved 2000 miles across the country for me, so I could take my dream job. And she hates it. She’s miserable but she doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want me to feel guilty. You, on the other hand, couldn’t be bothered to drive 10 minutes to have a cup of coffee with me the last time I flew home. And that was on my own dime, not the company’s. I tell you I’m worried about my brother who is in critical condition and I get a one sentence reply from you hours later. And yet you still try to turn and twist it like anything that is wrong between us is due to my wife. She’s not the problem, Jezebel. You are. Don’t ever bitch about her to me, expecting me to take your side, because I won’t. She’s my wife. I love her. She is the love of my life, my partner, the mother of my children. She is the one that has held our family together. I have learned things about her and all that she does to make our lives better and more comfortable and I am in complete awe of her. I can’t imagine my life without her and I am so extremely grateful she gave me another chance instead of kicking me out and divorcing me. So bitch all you want but don’t do it around me. If I have to choose between my wife and my sister I will choose my wife every time.

Now THAT would be what I consider having my back. I wish one day he’d do that for me instead of always taking everyone else’s side. He did it for Jezebel. He did it for Harley. When that little whore came sniffing around, whining about not being able to do this anymore, he let her. He didn’t stand up for me. He was more concerned with her and her feelings. He felt sorry for her because “he’d led her on”. Oh please. Maybe you should have been a little more concerned about me because you FUCKING CHEATED ON ME! I think making it up to your wife is just a little more important than looking out for your whore’s fee fees. Obviously he doesn’t feel that way.

What NOT To Do When You (Try To) Reconcile

I’m not sure how much information I have to offer.  I tried reconciliation the first go round.  I actually thought we had achieved that.  Apparently I was mistaken.

Choosing to reconcile or to divorce is a very personal decision.  I don’t attempt to sway anyone in either direction, but I will try to offer some helpful tips on what not to do if you’d like it to be successful (and even these things might not be enough).

  1. Don’t let the cheater give you a list of things to do so that you may improve.  I think that’s probably my biggest tip.  I made it too easy on my cheater, my little shit eating chimp.  Way too easy.  He felt no shame in asking for various changes on my part. He felt quite comfortable telling me how he wanted me to text him all the time- like she did. Send me pictures- like she did.  Come sit outside and watch me as I mow the lawn.  Maybe bring me something cool to drink- like she said she would.  Come sit beside me.  Just touch me when you pass me by.  Text me just to say hi- like she did.  Did I have a list for him?  Of course not!  I was just so thankful to get another chance at making my marriage work it never occurred to me to give him his own list.  I’m sure that if I had given him a list I would have heard the same thing I always did:  That’s just the way I am.  Having been through this already I can tell you that you shouldn’t be the one doing all the work.  The cheater is the one who should be winning you back, not the other way around.  Don’t fall into that trap.  If the cheater is trying to get you to win him/her back, giving you a list of things to improve so that he/she is not tempted to cheat again, or trying to convince you that this is all your fault while conveniently refusing to take responsibility for any of this mess then chances are this is not going to be a successful reconciliation.
  2. Don’t let go of your anger too soon.  That’s another one of those things I did.  Again, you want so badly for everything to go back to the way it was.  Everyone tells you to get over it or to not be bitter.  Everyone wants to preach about forgiveness.  Let me tell you- I can hold a grudge like no one’s business.  I’m good at it.  But hating someone takes absolutely no time or effort on my part whatsoever.  I’ve always said that if holding a grudge takes a lot out of you then you’re not doing it right.  My philosophy for long term grudges is this:  I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.  But then again I’m not going to seek you out to see if you are on fire, nor am I going to try to burn you alive. The popular opinion seems to be you should forgive someone who has wronged you for your own benefit.  Screw that!  Jesus might forgive Cousinfucker and Harley but I sure as hell don’t have to!  They can kiss my ass.  And here’s the thing.  If your cheater really loves you and wants to make things right with you then he or she will take your anger.  They will realize they deserve your anger and will rightfully ride out the storm instead of whining about how mean you are and how sad they are feeling because you won’t let them off the hook.
  3. Don’t let the cheater tell you to “focus on the future” or try to make you feel guilty if you are still angry or get triggered by things.  Focusing on the future just meant my shit eating chimp didn’t have to face his shitty behavior.  Let’s not focus on the fact that I lied and cheated and deceived; let’s focus on the future.  How well do you think that would go over if I took his whole pay check and spent it on a Disney cruise?  “Baby, let’s not dwell on the fact that we don’t have money to pay the mortgage or the utilities; let’s focus on the future!  We’re going to have so much fun on that cruise!”  Cheaters want to change the narrative.  Don’t let them.  Let them know you need to fix the problems from the past before you start focusing on the future.
  4. Don’t operate from a position of fear.  I know it’s scary.  I know change is hard.  I know no one gets married thinking, “Wow, I’d really like to be married for about 20 years and then get a divorce and start my life completely over.”  Unfortunately you’re going to have to confront all of this shit head on.  You cannot operate from a position of fear.  You need to feel like you are in charge.  If your cheater insists he or she is in charge then you should probably dump their ass and move on.
  5. Don’t let them get away with not sticking up for you.  Another big one that I was guilty of.  I believe I’ve said before that Cousinfucker never stuck up for me.  I told him almost immediately that it was very painful to watch as people in his family continued to fawn over that white trash whore.  His response was that he couldn’t control them; they were adults. His mom would act confused about why we were no longer close and his reaction was to act equally bewildered.   What he should have done was confronted the issue.  Hell, the first time any of them liked Harley’s pictures or complimented her after they learned of his affair he should have put his foot down.  Fuck this idea that they are grown people and he can’t control them!  It’s not about controlling them, CF.  It’s about sticking up for your wife and letting them know that if they are going to continue to have a relationship with your whore that you will no longer be able to have a relationship with them.  If your cheater can’t put you first then you are doomed.
  6. Don’t believe in coincidences.  The list I have is fairly long.  The first time around it was solely the fact that once he returned from a visit to find her picture put up all over the house I was mysteriously blocked on Facebook.  Naturally he knew nothing about that.  That was all between her and I.  This time around there was the refusal to take either of the kids the first time he was going to “visit his mom”.  I have no idea if he was truly going to visit her, or if this was going to be the first time he went to see Harley, but either way he didn’t want the kids to accompany him.  There was also Harley liking his mom’s post about having a handsome son (one of those annoying “Share if you Agree” posts), liking her post when she asked for prayers for him, liking his picture on his sister’s page, and suddenly developing a desire to advocate for vets with PTSD.  Finally there was his staunch refusal to take our daughter to a funeral with him and the fact he was sleeping with his phone. All huge red flags.  And all things I refused to see as such.  Don’t dismiss those red flags as coincidences!
  7. Don’t be afraid to confront the cheater.  That was a biggie for me.  I didn’t want to rock the boat.  I didn’t want to bring things up again.  I should have.  I should have questioned and raged and made his life a living hell.
  8. If you have a list of things your cheater needs to do in order to stay married to you stick to it!  This is another area where I went wrong.  My list was fairly small and straight forward:  Get rid of the whore/maintain no contact, give me the passwords to all electronic communication, get the passcode off your phone, attend marital counseling, let me know if she ever makes contact with you, stop discussing our marital problems with your sister.  I also let him know that this was not going to be an overnight thing; it would take time to rebuild.  Yeah, right.  See #2 and #3.  The big baby was frustrated within a month after DDay if I asked questions or had a bad day.  Bad sign!  That meant he wasn’t willing to do the work. Get rid of the whore/maintain no contact?  Hmmmm….. he was supposed to send a text letting her know it was over.  Instead he called her.  I didn’t want a phone call; I can’t *see* a phone call.  Instead, what he sent as proof that is was over was her text to him, telling him how she couldn’t do this anymore.  It just wasn’t right; it was killing her to hurt her husband and children.  She begged him not to call or contact her ever again.  And my little shit eating chimp replied that her husband was right to tell me what was going on and gosh darn it he was going to be the father and husband and man he needed to be!  It was disgusting.  I never once got the satisfaction of actually seeing in black and white the words:  We’re done.  I choose my wife.  Get out of my life.  Nope, I got to read about honor and duty and sacrifice.  Let me tell you- that really warms a girl’s heart and doesn’t leave you feeling insecure at all!  As for no contact or telling me if she ever makes contact again… yeah, we all know that didn’t happen or this blog wouldn’t exist.  He did give me the passwords and got rid of the passcode on his phone, even offered to put my thumb print in on his phone when his company supposedly ordered them all to password protect their phones.  But then he began sleeping with his phone.  Plus he had already deleted Facebook when I tried to download the archive history.  Said Facebook made him feel bad about himself but I figure he was just afraid I would find something he didn’t want me finding.  Marital counseling was a joke.  He went but didn’t really participate and as I believe I mentioned before he was expecting it to be all about “focusing on the future”.  And finally he went all passive aggressive with the whole “do not discuss our marital problems with your sister who encouraged your affair”.  That obviously meant I didn’t want him to have a relationship with her so he was just going to cut her off altogether.  Except he didn’t because then how could he moan and whine to her about how I hated him?  Not only did he break our agreement he flat out lied about what was going on.  Double betrayal.
  9. Don’t accept being second best.  Don’t accept your cheater putting the whore’s feelings, comfort and safety above your own.  If she’s still his main concern you and your marriage are in trouble.  When I look back now I’m appalled at how much I put up with.  As I said above about the text… Her with her:  Oh, Cousinfucker, I just can’t do this anymore.  It isn’t right.  I can’t stand hurting my kids, hurting the one man who has stood by my side through good and bad.  We just can’t break up two families who have done nothing wrong.  Let’s just walk away. Go home and repair the damage.  Please, I’m begging you, don’t contact me- don’t call or text.  I’m deactivating FB. And him with his:  You are so right!  We can’t do this to our families.  I’m going to do my best to be a better husband, a better father, a better man. Don’t contact me either.  PUKE!  This came on the heels of our conversation where I asked him point blank if she was worth losing his wife and kids and he replied that he knew he didn’t want to lose his kids.  He was actually very honest about the fact that he told her from the very beginning that he would never leave his kids.  Apparently, he has rethought that, or maybe having them 20+ hours away wasn’t acceptable but being 6-8 hours away is ok.  I digress.  For all I know he had no intentions of ending it with her.  Maybe he called her and told her, “Hey, baby, the coast is clear!  My wife knows so now we can be together!”  Maybe she then realized it wasn’t going to be that simple.  Maybe he really did think he couldn’t liquidate his assets and move on out with her.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that none of that was what I wanted.  I wanted to hear him tell me he was sorry.  I wanted to hear that I was the one.  It wasn’t until after I told him that I deserved to be happy, too, (this was still before the lame ass texts he showed me) that he finally realized he might lose me and that he might need to up his game.  I will say that in our many conversations he did tell me that I was the one he wanted; she was a mistake, a midlife crisis, a cliche.  But those first two things that occurred?  Those colored my entire so-called “recovery”.  I always wondered if I was the second choice.  I think that if you really are going to reconcile that there should be no doubt that you are the FIRST choice, the ONLY choice.  A few days after DDay I told him I wrote back to her husband, letting him know that CF had deleted all the naked pictures his wife had sent to mine.  CF was crying I believe and begged me to leave her alone and just concentrate on us and our family.  “Let them heal and deal with all of their stuff, while we do the same!”  Oh, boo hoo.  I remember hissing at him, “Do not beg for mercy for your whore!”  Again, lots of concern for the whore.  Not quite so much concern for the wife.  That is a no-no.  I don’t want to portray it as though he never tried to prove I was the one he wanted.  We went out on dates.  We spent a weekend away.  He told me how much he loved me and did at times say Harley was a huge mistake and she wasn’t the one he wanted; she was simply a cheap substitute for me.  In the end, though, those things he said in the beginning wouldn’t go away.  They always left me insecure.  His talk of happiness was always a huge trigger for me as well because he admitted that he had told his sister that Harley made him happy.  I felt like she could do something I couldn’t no matter how much I had tried for years and years.  Maybe if we had talked about these issues a little bit more instead of trying to bury them and “focus on the future” something good could have come out of it.  But that’s not what happened.  Don’t do what I did!  Don’t accept being second best.
  10. Don’t accept this idea that your spouse needs to grieve the loss of their co-cheater.  This is not something that I personally dealt with much but I think it’s important.   About a month after DDay Cousinfucker was visiting his mom (by himself, of course) and I was questioning him.  I asked if he missed Harley and he admitted that he did sometimes; however, he went on to say that he didn’t think it was her that he missed so much as it was what she represented and the fact that she filled him in on things that were happening with that side of the family.  Yet another unacceptable answer.  It should have been:  Of course not!  She was a huge mistake and almost cost me my marriage.  I don’t even think about her anymore. At the time I was busy reading reconciliation websites and blogs; common wisdom seems to be  that this is natural, that your cheater has had an intense relationship with this person.  I’ve read blogs by cheating men where they are lamenting the loss of their whore.  I’ve read them by women justifying their affairs with their man-whores.  They seem to always think that by saying they were in love that excuses their treacherous behavior.  I’m not speaking of it excusing the affair.  They seem to think their “love” excuses the continued wistful thinking of the co-cheater.  It doesn’t.  The last thing any betrayed wife wants to hear is how her husband truly loved the woman he was fucking behind her back, and because of that, please be patient with the poor guy because he’s really really sad.  For any men that may be reading this please substitute the correct nouns and pronouns.  Yeah, if your spouse is still grieving the whore things are not looking good.  It’s not natural.  If you feel guilty about what you’ve done you don’t have time to miss the person who is inducing that guilt.  You are far too busy trying to make up for your misdeeds
  11. DON’T MOVE ACROSS THE COUNTRY SO THAT YOU’RE CLOSER TO THE WHORE!  That’s a biggie!  If the cheater is suggesting a move further away from the whore- you may possibly be safe.  But don’t agree to a move that will put you closer to the whore.  That was my big mistake.  I was way too confident and trusted my shit eating chimp way too soon.  He wasn’t worthy of all that trust.

I’m sure there are undoubtedly more things that should appear on this list but this is all I’ve got for you today.  There are many things I wish I could have done differently but this list highlights the main things I would have changed.  I needed the anger.  I should have confronted him, questioned all those coincidences, and made him stick up for me.  I suppose that would have entailed being very explicit with what I needed him to do.  I should NEVER have allowed him to railroad me into dancing for him.  He should have been dancing for me.  And it goes without saying that moving across the country closer to Harley was an undeniably stupid move.  But you know what?  Even that I won’t allow the blame to be placed on me.  I was a good wife.  I trusted him.  I put his feelings and his wants and desires ahead of mine all the time.  You are SUPPOSED to trust your spouse.  It is NOT my fault that he wasn’t worthy of my trust.  Or me.

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.