The Doubts

Welcome to Part 3 on my series of the folly of pain shopping. You can read Part 1 and/or part 2 if you are so inclined.

I do not want him back. He is a pox upon humanity. I am madly in love with the mobster and I am happier than I have ever been. Still…. I look at that shit on her Facebook and I wonder…

Was he right and we just weren’t good together? Is Harley better suited for him because she doesn’t mind sitting at home all day long? Will their love of Kentucky basketball see them through every hardship? Is she just better than me in his eyes, because he certainly didn’t want any part of the family life with me and our kids? I couldn’t get him out of his damn bed. I couldn’t pry him away from the TV. We didn’t take trips together. He didn’t feel the need to be a supportive dad to his own kids. He never complimented me where everyone in the world could see it.

Was he right and I was a terrible wife? I never put photo frames around his picture and declared I loved my veteran. I thanked him every year but I didn’t post pictures and photo frames and declarations of love. Maybe she is just all around better than me. I envision her working her 40+ hours a week, bringing home a substantial paycheck and still having plenty of time to cook dinner, clean house and do laundry all while being supermom to her kids. At least three of them.

I work 40+ works hours a week and bring home less now than I did when I first started, thanks to taxes, a 401k, and crappy medical insurance for me and my two kids. My mom cooks and does laundry. I rarely see my kids- Rock Star is gone a huge chunk of the time and Picasso is off doing his own thing in his room. I did begin and end this divorce with two kids so I’ve got that going for me. I’ll put that one in the win column for me.

I see pictures of them with all their pets so I know I didn’t turn him off because I loved animals and had a house full.

I sometimes even see witty memes and I think to myself, “That’s pretty funny; too bad you’re a whore.”

Was he right and I just wasn’t “the one”? I wasn’t a good fit and she is. Is it that simple? Maybe they really are deliriously happy together. Maybe it’s the love affair of the century, Kentucky style.

Maybe I just wasn’t the right wife for him and she is. Did I fail him? Did he at one point think I had all the necessary traits he wanted/needed in a wife, but over the years he came to realize I did not?

That is the fear, isn’t it? It’s not that the two people who did this to you are evil, horrible, rotten people who should be strung up and shot; it’s that those two people who did this to you are so much better suited to one another. They compliment each other. They fit together. They make a better couple. They realized it and weren’t afraid to plunge ahead while you clung to the past with everything you had. It’s about being bested by a whore with no morals who may actually be the better partner because God knows he does things for her and her kids that he never bothered to do for me and mine.

Was I the starter wife? Did he learn from his mistakes with me? Did he finally realize that barricading himself in the bedroom and submerging himself in the television all by himself was not the path to a happy marriage so now he’ll do better? Is that why he’s willing to do all the things that I would have loved for him to do with all of us?

Did I somehow prevent him from living up to his potential? Was I too overbearing when it came to the kids? Is that why he was reluctant to come with us but is always ready and willing to help out with her kids and to act like one big happy family with them?

Would insisting on family dinners around the table have helped? What if I was a better housekeeper? Maybe he wouldn’t have minded being in the living room instead of shutting himself off in the bedroom. Maybe it really was me! If I had kept the house cleaner and cooked more he never would strayed. Okay, that’s a little over the top. But maybe if I had kept the house cleaner he wouldn’t have chosen to stay in his bedroom so much, or chosen to remain downstairs in the basement watching television while the kids and I stayed upstairs. I’ve said before I think that was when the breakdown began and we began living separate lives, so if I had been better at that one thing then I could have saved this and my kids would never know a life of poverty. Her little snapshots of life are all about family life and being together and doing things together. I keep coming back to: If I had been a better housekeeper maybe he wouldn’t have retreated, and all those pictures of cozy Sundays in front of a fire, or outings with children could be us.

He kept telling me I could watch whatever I wanted on TV. He didn’t need to have it on ESPN or History Channel. I never believed him though, and truthfully, didn’t want to spend hours upon hours holed up in the bedroom. It seems like she doesn’t mind and maybe if I had forced myself to do that then I would still be married.

Was I too easy going? Did that disappoint him? Did he want someone to push back? Did he want more fire? Did I make things too easy for him? Perhaps I should have taken a stand and demanded more from him. Maybe when I sighed and took on more and more of the tasks he saw it as a sign I didn’t see him worth fighting for.

Did I just flat-out disappoint him when it came to being his wife? Were there tons of things I didn’t do that a good wife should do and that Harley the Whore obviously does? I didn’t fawn over him. I didn’t call him out on Facebook all the time. I didn’t marvel over him. I didn’t bring him a cool drink while he mowed the yard. I didn’t want to snuggle in bed all day with him. I didn’t want to watch Mountain Men with him. I fell asleep on the couch even once he “allowed” me to come back and sleep in the bed. Maybe I really didn’t love him the way you should love your husband. Maybe he is now getting the love he deserves and he feels complete and happy. We all know I couldn’t make him happy, no matter how hard I tried. She appears to make him happy all the time. If you don’t believe me take a gander at her Facebook page. Everyone there will tell you how happy they both look!

Why? That is the overwhelming question that rushes through my brain as I looked at all that crap. Why was he willing to do all of this with her and her kids? He could celebrate birthdays with them, go to the zoo, take “family” vacations, go to cheer competitions, go to the hospital with her kid and fetch candy. Why can he be Dad of the Year to her kids when all he could do with ours was sit in the bedroom and watch TV? Why did we have to practically beg him to go anywhere with us? How is it that now he’s able to go away on couple’s vacations and spend time together outside of the safety of his bedroom in the evening? Why is he getting his teeth fixed? Why is he suddenly getting involved in veteran’s groups? Why is he wearing sandals with jeans? Was it something about me? Did I lack something that would have motivated him to do those things? Is she just better at getting him out of his shell? Did he give up because he thought I didn’t care?

The mobster thought this had really gotten into my head. Maybe it has but I think it’s natural to see things like that and wonder, “Why the hell couldn’t he (or she) have done all of that while we were married? Why did it take blowing up the original family for the ex to finally act the way I wish he (or she) had acted when he was with me?

I can tell you this: I will no longer be looking at her Facebook page. I do know they are masters at image management. I know that if her head was on fire she would not acknowledge it. She’d be saying, “I’m a little chilly; anyone got a sweater?” I know that ultimately it doesn’t matter what kind of a cook she is, or how promptly she does laundry, or if she keeps a cleaner house than I did because she is a woman who has no qualms about sleeping with another woman’s husband. She’s a woman who is willing to cheat on her husband. No matter what good things she may do to cover up the evil that lies within, she is an awful person with crappy character and no moral compass.

I know I don’t want him back and that life is so much nicer without him in it. It doesn’t matter if he goes out to dinner with her daughter or shows up to support her at cheer competitions. It doesn’t matter if he goes to Show and Tell with her son, or is there to hold his hand when he hurts himself. No matter what good deeds he may perform for her children he will always be an ass who abandoned his own kids, who refused to pay child support for them while he drained a 401k of $10,000, and who tried to get out of paying sufficient support for them during his court trial. He played games with child support once he got a job and calculated child support for his “beloved” daughter down to the last half hour for crying out loud. He’s also a man who has no qualms about sleeping with another man’s wife and is willing and able to cheat on his wife. Not only was he willing to cheat on me, but he was willing to lie to me, make a fool out of me, take money away from his kids and give to her and her kids, and then financially rape me. He has crappy character and no moral compass. I guess they really are ideally suited for one another. Thank God no more nice people will be subjected to their lying, cheating ways. They can both wonder what the other one is up to. I think they are probably both too pleased with themselves to ever even consider the idea that the same could be done to them.

Stay away, everyone! Nothing good comes from pain shopping. Nothing! They make you doubt yourself when you know you’re sane. They make you question yourself and your actions even when you know you did nothing wrong. They can convince you that they are living a life of carefree joy and that all of that could have been yours if you had simply danced prettier. They’ll make you wonder what you did wrong and you’ll find yourself comparing yourself to someone who is so far below you there can never be a comparison. Even when you are happy in your new life one look at the cheaters and their life on social media is enough to make you stumble off of that path of newfound happiness and bliss; they’ll take you down a twisted road of doubt and anger and jealousy.  They are master manipulators and you will never be able to compete with their highlight reel. So don’t do it! Stay far, far away!

 

The Highlight Reel

This is the second part in my five part series on the stupidity of pain shopping. You can read the first part here. Let me serve as a lesson to you! Don’t do it!

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I embarked on some “research”. First up was a new picture of her kids on vacation. It might have been Tennessee but it could have easily been somewhere else as well.

They looked like they were having fun. I don’t know if CF came along or if good ol’ Harley is finally learning the joys of life with him. In my mind he came along, because this is Life 2.0. He’s new and improved. He’s the doting husband and the beloved daddy, always ready for adventures with this new version of his family. Naturally, in my narrative he’s telling Harley how much he loves going on vacation and how I would never let him accompany us, how he missed out on so many of these adventures with his own children because of me.

Of course, I also notice the missing fourth child. I guess he wouldn’t play happy family or accept CF as his brand new daddy so he needed to be eradicated. Not even a mention of missing him.

I go back and forth between hoping he has a damn anxiety attack on the way back (or while there) that she needs to deal with and wondering if there was some magic formula I didn’t know existed that would have made him enjoy vacationing with his kids and me. Why does he do this with her and her kids when he would never do it with his own kids?

I see the pictures once again of the happy couple on their wedding day and honeymoon, I suppose. Everyone congratulating them and telling them how happy they are for them. I roll my eyes at the stupidity. It’s laughable. Two cheaters promising to love, honor and forsake all others. Yes, they’ve both got a real good grasp on how marriage is supposed to work.

I so badly want to comment and ask those people if they’re aware of the price her husband, her one son, my kids, and I all had to pay for their happiness. Do you think she’s entitled to happiness at my expense? At my kids’ expense?

I sleep on a couch. My daughter has spent two years basically with her head down just doing her damnedest to graduate and get the hell out of here, to start all over in college. My son, instead of hanging out with friends, stays locked in his room playing video games. We live on a busy street, not a neighborhood. There are no kids around he could hang out with.

But they’re happy and they deserve it because apparently I was a horrible, evil, mean person who tried to shit all over their happiness. No one cares what their happiness did to anybody else’s life.

She wants everyone to know that lazy days spent on the couch in front of the fire with her beloved are her favorite kind of Sunday. He’s got the remote in his hand so he hasn’t changed that much.

I see her incessantly calling him out, mentioning him, tagging him. “I love my veteran!”, “Waiting to watch the fight!” (from their home, on the couch, with him), and letting everyone know how they’re “getting their Halloween on”. Wow- you managed to get him to watch something other than Ice Road Truckers or Mountain Men? Congratulations! You didn’t get him out from under the television altogether but at least you’re watching together.

Again I wonder: Why not with me? Why can he suddenly do all these family and couple oriented things with her that he never could with me? Their life seems to be like a cozy, warm sweater. They carve pumpkins, sip hot apple cider, and watch Halloween movies together. I’m sure Christmas is now magical as well for him.

I see all their happy couple pictures and people cooing all over them. “Beautiful!” “Such a happy couple!” “So nice to finally see you happy!” My former in-laws are the worst offenders. And so incredibly stupid.

My late former mother-in-law shouts out to all on Facebook that, “That’s my baby boy and he’s going to make them my family, too!” Really? Aren’t they already your family? I could have sworn you told me that day you sat in my kitchen that you couldn’t cut her off because she was family. She might be a whore, but gosh darn it, Sam, she’s family, too! I see my evil ex sister-in-law gush that she loves them.

Funny side note: Maybe it’s a woman thing but I definitely noticed how Harley was always commenting on their pages once CF broke things off with her. She didn’t comment much at all before her affair with him but she was all over it once she got dumped. Imagine my surprise when I saw that she’s not falling all over herself to comment on every insipid post and each picture. Curious.

Always there are the obligatory compliments: You are so beautiful. Pretty. Great picture of you, whore.

I freely admit it has always been a sore spot that my former in-laws never missed a chance to tell her how wonderful she looked, while ignoring me.

I posted a new profile picture (obviously this was back when we were still married). Keep in mind I am not the type of person who changes profile pictures every week. That would be Harley. I think this was the first change in two years. Two years! On top of that I had just got my hair cut. I had kept my hair styled basically the same way for years! This was a major change and the most I got from any of them was, “That hairstyle looks nice on you.”

Maybe the former in-laws always thought I was very ugly and wondered what on earth their beloved prince was doing with such an unsuitable specimen. Maybe they like the Hillbilly Whore look. Who knows?

I do my best to shake my head and continue on.

I see all of the pictures of her adorable animals. Most of them purchased by my then-husband. Couldn’t give me money for a homecoming dress for his daughter but he could buy them new animals.

To inject just a brief moment of sanity in this I will note that I don’t see the pets she used to pose with. I wonder if she discarded them like she discarded her son and husband. Much like her new husband discarded his family and pets. Oh well, everything is replaceable, right?

I see her update on moving into their new home. That’s nice, bitch. I live with my mom. My kids don’t have a home of their own. It’s nice that thanks to my husband’s money (and he was my husband at this point in time) your kids are able to move into the nicest home they’ve ever lived in. It’s fantastic that things are going so swell for your kids. Well, except the one you abandoned.

Guess what? She later reveals she loves their new home. There’s so much for her kids to do! I’m so happy for them.

There’s the post about her youngest banging his head in the pool and needing stitches. Don’t worry, though, because New Daddy was on the job keeping him calm, happy, and stuffed with candy!

Awww… that’s so sweet. I’m glad he can act like a father for your kids. Too bad he’s done nothing for his own. To be fair he did manage to make a few ER trips with us (hey- my kid was a gymnast; she got hurt a lot!) but that pales in comparison to what he’s done to them the last 2 years. Maybe we should start calling her youngest, “Mulligan” since he seems to be CF’s do-over.

There were the pictures of the family outing to the zoo- two whole hours away to boot! I guess that PTSD must be in remission, huh? I suppose since he’s no longer trying to con me out of sufficient child and spousal support he can fully enjoy life as the asshole he is.

Oh, there it is! Yet another new profile picture of the whore so that everyone can compliment her and tell her how pretty she is. There’s CF chiming in, “Gorgeous!”  Really? I was married to that sonofabitch for twenty fucking years. Granted, he was not on Facebook long while we were married and most of the time I imagine he spent trying to fuck other women, but not once did he bother to compliment me.

It bothered me when I was married to him. It bothered me when we were wreck-onciling. He knew it bothered me. I told him it bothered me. His excuse? “I see you everyday! Why would I bother to comment on Facebook when I can tell you in person?”

That’s a good question. Why is he bothering to comment on Facebook when he could just go home and tell her?  Better question: If he really wants to let everyone know how special she is why doesn’t he tell her that she’s worth the thousands of dollars he has to pay out every month? I would think that would be a huge compliment! “Your pussy is so fantastic I don’t mind paying out thousands of dollars a month for it!” or maybe, “You were worth abandoning my children!” Hmmm… perhaps that does not convey the message they want to convey…

I see more pictures of the happy couple posing in front of scenery that does not resemble Kentucky. Maybe they travel a lot now. How convenient. It’s nice to know he spent twenty years wasting my life and making me do everything solo because he got such anxiety anytime he ventured outside of his house. I think the mobster is right and Harley very much is his seeing eye dog. With her by his side as his faithful companion he can go places he once only dreamed of.

One last new snapshot- one of her daughter and her two smiling sons. They’re all going out to celebrate her birthday. I think it’s wonderful that he can finally go out for birthday dinners once again. The last year he lived in the house, the last birthday each of my kids had before finding out that their family was going to be shattered and their lives torn apart, he was simply too upset and anxious to go out and celebrate. He stayed behind, probably texting the whore, while I took the two of them out. Who cares if he fucked over his own kids, right? The important part is that he’s doing right by her kids.

Once again I see the picture of CF with Mulligan at Show and Tell. It was Veteran’s Day. This year she improved upon the picture with a cutesy frame that told everyone who cared to listen that she loved her veteran. The year before though it was simply about how pleased Mulligan was that New Daddy/Cousin Daddy (Caddy?) could be there.

You know what I thought about? I thought about the time he snapped at Picasso because he wanted his dad to drop him off at school. Good ol’ Daddy was anxious and didn’t know how to navigate the carpool lane. The man can fight a fucking war and blow shit up, but a line of cars whipping through the horseshoe drive in front of the school just wipes him out.

I thought about the time he got pissy with me because I needed him to run to Target and grab a gift out of the dollar bin and bring it back up to the school for Rock Star so she could participate in her classroom Christmas party. As always, shooting people and blowing shit up is easy; a quick trip to Target is life threatening. He will probably need psychological counseling for the rest of his life because of it.

Once again I see them posing the day of her daughter’s cheerleading competition- him posing in a t-shirt with her high school name and mascot on it. Both of them gushing about how important it was to be there for her. “He must love her so much to wear that t-shirt!” “Oh, it was painful to put that Cardinals t-shirt on but I wanted to support her.”

He never saw his daughter cheer or compete as a cheerleader one single time. He never went to a single high school gymnastics meet. At the time he was saying this he had moved out of the state without saying a word to either of his kids and he hadn’t seen them in over eighteen months. Yes, it was so important that he support the daughter of the whore he’s fucking.

And always there are the comments. Comments from people I used to call family. Comments from people who still try to act like they care about me and my kids while they support that fucking whore and her kids. Comments from people who used to be family shouting out how happy they are with the jolly new couple, how much they love them, how much they love Everything. About. Them. They are so proud and this is their family. Tammy Faye cooing over the newest grandchildren. She loves them so much! Doesn’t seem to give a shit about her actual grandchildren but the whore’s kids? She was on that shit quick!

As tempting as it may be, don’t do it! Don’t pain shop. Maintain no contact (and that includes social media). You may think you can handle it, that it will be no big deal, but feelings will come. I promise you this. Even if the majority of those feelings are rage and anger it is still a lot to deal with. It can still mess with your head. Even knowing they are masters at image management, even knowing that truly happy people don’t have to make a huge show of their relationship every day and every hour on social media, even knowing he is the problem and she is a whore, it can still make you doubt yourself.

The Pitfalls of Pain Shopping

You’re in for a treat. I knew before I even began that this was going to be long; this here is Part 1 of 5. You know what that means though, right? Five straight days of posts from me!

Hi, I’m Sam. I am a survivor.  I am a fighter. I am fearless. I am kickass. I know my worth. I don’t believe a bit of the bullshit that comes out of cheaters’ mouths, excusing their affairs. I believe there is no excuse for cheating on your partner. I believe the most important question isn’t, “How can I save this marriage?” or “What did I do wrong?”, but “What’s important to me in a marriage?” and  “What is acceptable to me?” I don’t do hurt; I do pissed off. I firmly believe in no contact. I know that cheaters are masters at image management. I know they suck.

I am also not immune to curiosity. I “investigate” social media on occasion. I have recently been pain shopping. I am a dumbass.

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I could easily blame this on my mom. She is the one who informed me CF and Harley had gotten married. I could have comfortably lived my life not knowing that. Who could resist sneaking a peak at the happy couple? Certainly not me!

It started with their wedding picture and making snarky remarks about the “happy couple” to friends. Harley looks terrible. She really does. Her wedding picture is maybe one step up from her most recent mugshot.

When she was chasing after my husband and finally landed him she was thinner than me. I’ll admit I was jealous. People complimented her on it. Now she looks like a beached whale. Seriously. I am not someone who usually picks on someone for their weight because God knows I’m not some size 2. But she has to have a good 30-40 pounds on me.

You’d think that would be enough. Yep, there they are. You’ve seen them. Let’s move on from this train wreck. Yes, he actually married the whore; true love won. Move along!

You would be wrong.

Rock Star announced recently that her dad had contacted her, asked her where she was going to school and if she needed anything. I guess he can afford to act like the big shot because he’s got almost an extra thousand dollars in his pocket each month now. He ended up sending her $200 so she could buy her laptop and then ordered the rest of her bedding for her and is having it sent here. What a hero! Cut off support for her the very moment she graduates and then swoop in to save her. What. A. Stand. Up. Guy.

This gets me to thinking about the possibility that he may become a part of her life once again. He and the whore may sneak up to campus and spend weekends with her. He might invite her down to his house so she can live like she used to. He could offer up the use of the pool in their neighborhood. See how nice and luxurious life could be with us?

I’m trying to wrap my mind around this possibility. It does not happen. I have come to the conclusion that I could accept her having a relationship with him. He is her father. But her? Over my dead body. I will not have that whore weaseling her way into my kids’ lives.

The other very real fear is that as he worms his way back into Rock Star’s life he could easily start to share his own version of what happened with her. His version, of course, is that I’m an evil, horrible person who deserved everything he did to me. I didn’t take care of him. I never loved him. We weren’t good for one another. I’m just a bitter, angry person who refuses to thank him for setting me free from the burden of being his wife.

I would like to think that Rock Star is smarter than that and that our bond is deeper than that. But money talks; you hear stories everyday of children who go with the parent that has the deepest pockets.

This is the background story to my pain shopping. Why I chose my next move I am not sure. I suppose I thought I could handle it; I thought I was prepared for anything and figured I could use it as snark in another post.

Oh, there will be snark. But there is also fury and anger and indignation. There has even been some doubt. Doubt that I was a good wife. Doubt that I was a good partner to him. Doubt that I treated him right.

Don’t do what I did! Stay off the social media! No contact is the way to peace and light. Checking up on them is pain shopping. It’s looking for ways to make you doubt yourself; you compare your behind the scenes to their highlight reel and come away feeling like crap in most cases. They are masters at image management; they will never admit when things go to shit. It’s all posed fantasy. I repeat: Do not do what I did!

Oh Sam, You Poor Deluded Idiot

July 2015

Things are a little better, I suppose.  I go up and sit with him while he’s home for lunch.  He’s going to his reunion with Blockhead.  Without me.  And he’s talking about going to visit him in a few weeks.  Again, without me.

He thinks he’s impotent.  I don’t know if I should feel grateful because then he’s not fooling around, or if that’s just an excuse and he needs an explanation for being repulsed by me. It was the excuse he needed to remain “faithful” to his whore.

We’ve messed around some and joked around some and that makes me feel better, but my gut just keeps screaming. Listen to that gut, Sam!

I did notice he left his phone on the arm of the chair when he went to go take his medicine so maybe he’s not as guarded about his phone as I believe.

I’m debating calling his mom and seeing if she knows anything.  Probably wouldn’t tell me if she did. Hell no she wouldn’t! She was pushing for this. She called Harley and urged her to call her precious son because he was so sad.

I’m just so sad.  I feel overwhelmed.  I was feeling good about coming back to BFE.  I was feeling good about me and Zack and our relationship.  I was pretty much done with anything having to do with infidelity.  I was done with her.  And now this.

I wonder if it would do any good to start at the very beginning and tell him I know that Blockhead told him about my Facebook page.  Tell him I read the emails between him and Jezebel.  Flat out ask him what the hell is going on now.  I’m exhausted anymore.  I’ve been back for 6 days and I’m exhausted.  And I’m nauseous most of the time and constantly looking for clues that things are going to be ok.

He skipped another therapy session.  Hadn’t wanted to go anyway and then said he would but at lunch said last time inventory took until 6 so maybe it would be best to cancel. But remember, I was dismissive of his worsening symptoms. That’s probably why he canceled.

And can I just say I’m getting a little irritated?  He can’t go to Florida with me.  He can’t even come and sit out on the damn enclosed porch.  He’s spent 3 months saying we need to get another door for our screened in porch and it hasn’t happened.  But he can drive 6 hours to see his mom.  Alone.  And he can drive probably 8 hours to go see Blockhead.  Alone.  And he can drive 6 hours to go to his reunion.  Again, alone.  He can’t do jack shit with me or with the kids, but he can get in a car and drive off alone and do whatever…. or whomever. He was fucking Harley. He drove to fuck his cousin. Period. And you were busy spackling like a good little wife.

Present Day Sam Says: I re-read these entries and it makes me so sad. And so mad. He played me for such a fool. I was an absolute idiot. I spackled and buried my head in the sand. I didn’t want to believe it. I simply could not wrap my head around the fact that my husband of 20 years could move across the country, buy a new house, a new car, new furniture and put a pool that cost the equivalent of many people’s yearly salary in our backyard and then turn around and fuck a whore. Seriously- who does that?

As I said way back at the beginning of this blog, why the hell couldn’t he have given me the two years I needed to get past what he had done the first time?

Sam, you know the reason.

Yes, because that’s not who he is. It’s all about him. It’s all about being easy and convenient. He wasn’t willing to do the hard work. He wasn’t going to be inconvenienced. He was entitled. He didn’t like feeling bad. He didn’t like discussing his faults and his shortcomings. Let’s focus on the future. Forget about my affair. Focus on other things. Like what you can do to prevent me from cheating.

We never really stood a chance. I knew from experience that once he was done with something, once he had made up his mind, there was no changing it. You couldn’t sweeten the pot and make him change course. That’s why I was so surprised when he “chose” me the first time around. I honestly believed he would never end things with her and stay with me. But maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was all a ruse. He would tell me what he needed to tell me and get his ducks all lined up. Then he could hone in for the kill.

I think we were doomed from the very minute he decided sexting with other women was a viable option. Because of who he is there would be no recovering from that. His mind was made up. I was old news. I was on my way out, no matter what. I think at some level I knew that. That’s why I always prefaced my comments with, “if”. It’s why I never fully rekindled relationships with the in-laws.

Why Would You Need To Sleep With Your Phone?

July 2015

He slept with his phone yesterday.  Said it was because the dogs kept knocking it down and he didn’t want to miss his mom’s call.  Then this morning I noticed the cord running to the chair where he always sits.  I thought it was in the chair with him but he’s actually putting it in his pocket.  He’s remote although he says the drive took a lot out of him and his boss was asking him a million questions yesterday.  I know he’s been talking to Blockhead because he told me this morning that they may go to their reunion.  I am either going to put my phone in his car on record or I’m buying a voice activated recorder to see if he’s talking to anyone on his way to work.  I know that won’t rule out everyone cheering him on to leave me but it might possibly eliminate my suspicions that he’s having another affair.  I wish I didn’t think like this but my gut is screaming at me that something is wrong.  He’s acting like he did back then.  And hell, his drive is only 10 minutes so maybe he wouldn’t even bother with calling and talking on such a short drive.

You wanna know the crazy part?  There are times I blame myself.  If I hadn’t used a public FB page as my own personal blog he wouldn’t be like this.  His other sister said he was so excited about this move, that it was a fresh start. I’m guessing that Blockhead stumbled across the page in December.  And everything has been downhill since. So I take that on as my own cross to bear.  I should have made everything private or friends only.  I could still have used it as my own personal blog but no one would have seen.  I could have made her pictures public and anything about her public and everything else private.  Despite the fact that he cheated and lied I’m the one feeling guilty and like if I had just done things differently then everything would be ok.  Sometimes I feel like it even extends to his family as well.  Not having a relationship with Jezebel causes him stress.  If I would just forget about all the things she’s done and how she helped to stab me in the back then everything would be ok.  And I know that’s faulty thinking.  He’s got to bear some responsibility in this.

At this point my mindset is this: He is not going to uproot his entire family and move us across the country so that he can leave me.  We will work through this because divorce is not an option.  Things are finally looking up in Whoreville and I really don’t need this shit. Maybe once my mom and everyone leaves on Thursday we’ll have a conversation about why he’s been acting so weird.

Present Day Sam Says: Yes, honey, he was willing to uproot his entire family and move them across the country so that he could leave you. He was willing to put a brand new inground pool in your backyard to throw you off his scent. He was willing to lie and cheat. He’s an evil, rotten bastard and you would do well to remember that.

 

More of Poor Pitiful Zack

January 2015

Zack has been very sick (like, hospitalized sick) and has also been dealing with extreme anxiety. Lots of war issues. I noticed though that he would ask, “How can you ever forgive me? How can I make it up to you?” And I started thinking, why would I need to forgive him for what he did in war? Why would be need to make it up to me? So now I’m wondering if he was actually talking about his EA. He was in such rough shape I didn’t ask if we were still talking about the war. In my mind, though, that’s what he was asking about.

Present Day Sam Says: If I’m being honest I would like to believe that he really was struggling with believing I didn’t love him. Because that would mean he did actually love me. But in a twist of fate if that really was what happened then it’s too easy to try to take responsibility for what he ultimately chose to do.

If I believe he was psychotically depressed over the thought of losing me, that he was suicidal at the thought, then it’s too easy to me to say, “See? It’s your fault. If only you had reassured him he wouldn’t have left. If you didn’t have that alternate Facebook page then you’d still be married. YOU caused all of this! You have no one to blame except yourself!”

Here’s the thing: Regardless of whether or not he thought I would never forgive him (Newsflash: I had! I moved across the damn country for him!) the way he chose to solve this dilemma was entirely, completely and utterly wrong. He had many options and yet the one he chose was to cheat on me. He chose to confide in others who were only too eager to urge him to move on and leave me. When the cuntface cum dumpster called him he could have refused the call. He could have told me she called him. He could have been honest. That would have required some courage on his part, though, and he is sorely lacking in courage.

Likewise, if he was truly so unhappy and felt unloved and like we could never repair our relationship he could have left before he found himself a new true love. I’m so sick and tired of hearing about all these pansy ass cheaters who are “so miserable” and yet never find the “courage” to leave until they’ve got somebody else to fuck.

Yes, nothing shows conviction like tossing aside your wife or husband once you’ve encountered someone you want to nail.

Found Another One, Part 1

13kz43

Note:  This is my 100th entry!  I was going to do a separate post but I think this one is rather appropriate for this milestone.

“Do you think he’s done this before?”

That was a question my mom asked me when I told her about Zack and his affair with Harley.

My response at the time was I didn’t see how. He wasn’t a social person.  He wasn’t like some of the people you hear about who always had an excuse for why they weren’t home- golfing, drinks with the guys, boys only weekends, etc.  He went to work and came home.  He didn’t travel frequently for business- maybe once every two-four months, and usually only  a day or two. Usually it wasn’t even that much.  He had an annual business meeting that lasted for about 5 days but he always came back talking about everything that went on there. He was a homebody, holed up in the bedroom watching television and working on genealogy charts. Hell, he didn’t even like socializing with our friends.

I remember getting ready to leave for a friend’s 40th surprise birthday party.  Zack worked with the man, I was friends with his wife, and our daughters were friends as well.  At the last minute, after he had gotten ready, he began pouting.  “I don’t want to go to this.  I’m not even supposed to socialize with everyone there because I’m their boss and I could get fired for that!”  Fucking drama queen!  I had had enough at that point and I was going, dammit!  I told the pouting little princess he could sit his ass at home.  “Don’t go then!”  I went and when people asked me where Zack was I would reply, “He’s at home.”  “Oh.  What’s wrong with him?” would usually be the followup question.  “Ask him yourself on Monday,” was my response.  I had had it; I was done making excuses for his shitty, anti-social behavior.

Oh!  Sudden memory block removed.  That’s probably yet another reason he’s given for cheating on me.  I didn’t support him and offer up excuses for his shitty behavior.  Sorry.  Back to the scheduled entry.

Anyway, when my mom asked me that I, again, replied that I didn’t think he had cheated with anyone else.  Didn’t see when he could have found the time or opportunity.  No, he found real love with Harley.  She made him happy several years ago and by golly he was going to reclaim that happiness with his exit affair.

It’s funny how your mind works, though.  After my little dustup with him last week a memory popped into my head.  I cannot remember for the life of me when this happened but I do remember exactly where I was.  I was in our master bathroom, and we were both getting ready.  I’m fairly sure I was wearing a robe and he was either naked, or almost naked, getting ready to get in the shower.

I had received a friend request from a woman probably several weeks prior.  Upon checking out her profile I saw she was from the same area as one of my cousins so I figured she was a friend of hers.  I accepted the friend request.  Now, several weeks later I’m getting this strange message from her.  There were two of them.  I can’t remember exactly what she said and I’ve searched and searched my timeline history, messages history, Facebook folder on email, and archives but everything must have been deleted.  I do know the messages were slightly ominous.  Along the lines of, “Do you know what your husband is up to?” and “There are some things about your husband I think you should know.”

I’m going to take a minute right here to do a PSA.  I know there is a lot of debate on whether or not you tell a person about their cheating spouse.  I’m not going to offer up my thoughts right now on which way I think a person should go but I will say this.  If you do decide to tell don’t start it off with cryptic messages.  You go full monty on the person.  Your husband (or wife) is fucking Susie (or Joe) down at Hooter’s.  They regularly meet up on Tuesdays when your husband tells you he’s going bowling.  They have sex in the minivan.  Bob, Tom, and Charlie all know about this and cover for him regularly.  His last “business trip” wasn’t a business trip at all.  He took Susie to Aruba for a romantic weekend. I’m attaching a picture of the two of them together as proof. This was taken last week when he was “working late”.  He was actually celebrating his six month anniversary with Susie.  Let me know if you want further details.  That’s how you tell a person.  Otherwise, this can happen….

I asked Zack if he knew this person.  He admitted he did.  Said he had thought she was a customer.  Offered up that she had sent him a friend request on LinkedIn and because he believed she was a customer he accepted the request.  He asks me why and I blurt out the whole story; I even read him the strange messages.  That’s when he ups the ante.  He tells me he gave her some professional advice, trying to help her out, and she became inappropriate with him.  He may have even mentioned how she became stalker-like.  He had to unfriend her and block her and he advised me to do the same.  “She’s a kook.  Just block her and delete that stuff.”  So I did.

Not that it matters in the long run but I tend to think this happened after he supposedly called things off with Harley the first time.  I keep thinking I felt like we were in a good place, which is why I was so shocked to receive this.  It would also explain the quick confrontation.  It would make sense if I already had evidence that he would cheat.  It also explains why I was so quick to believe his nonsense.

The end to this long story is this:  The memory popped into my mind.  I couldn’t remember her name but I had an inkling (and I was correct as far as her first name went).  I checked my Facebook emails, my archives, my timeline, old messages…. everything I could think of.  I spent probably 18 hours tracking this person down. Yes, I am like a dog with a bone when I latch onto something.  I finally found her name and wouldn’t you know, there were seven or eight of them so then I had to go through all of their profiles. This one is from Idaho and this one is brunette and that one is from Hawaii and… oh, bingo!  Perhaps.  I thought I had found the correct one but I wanted to make sure.  It had been two or three years. I thought her job sounded familiar but I wasn’t 100% positive.  I recalled from the time we were “friends” that she had a very recognizable picture on her timeline.  I searched through her photos.  No similar picture. In fact, she didn’t appear to have a lot of pictures on her page.  Maybe this was a new page and I had the wrong person?  I started going through her entire timeline on her page.  Time intensive.  Tedious.  Worth it!  Eventually I found one of those, “Your life on Facebook” stories.  I couldn’t review the pictures; it kept taking me to a link where I could create my own life story.  But- there was a thumbnail with the link and there it was- the picture I remembered.  It was tiny because it was part of a collage but I recognized it.  It was her. I sent her a message, letting her know I was interested in hearing what she had to say and she responded.

I know you will all be surprised to find out she wasn’t a stalker at all and he did not help her professionally.  In fact, he didn’t even connect with her on LinkedIn.  Oh no!  Lying Romeo, unbeknownst to me, had a Kik account and a Thumb account.  That’s where he met her.  She was another sexting partner.  She also told me some rather disturbing things about him which I will keep private.  I will say, however, that those things have really made me question who the hell I was married to for the last twenty plus years.  I will also say she told me she thought he was an asshole and a pervert and that he said horrible things about me.  Surprise, surprise!  It’s good to see that some things never change.

So, it looks like Harley wasn’t the only one.  As a friend of mine put it, “Where there’s two there’s bound to be more.”  I’m now wondering if I need to go amend my “The Whole Sad Story” posts.  As you may recall, in the very beginning, when I found the drama queen sitting in the bathtub looking like he was having an anxiety attack  he told me had been texting other women.  He told me there were three of them; he went on to further elaborate that he didn’t “know” two of them but he did know the third.  Yeah, that was our little white trash ex-con Harley.  I always figured the other two must have been people he met playing online games on his phone.  After finding out he was telling people he was going to marry Harley I asked him if there were even other women or if he had made them up to protect her and keep me from realizing how serious their relationship had always been.  He admitted that the other two women were people he had met on public Internet forums. Everything was out in the open, he had given them advice, and nothing inappropriate had actually happened with them.  Harley was the only one with whom he was having any kind of an affair.  Perhaps he felt he had a chance to grab a “Get Out of Jail Free” card and could disavow any relationship with the other two.  Maybe he decided it was far better to admit to a serious relationship with Harley as opposed to letting me think he had numerous sexting buddies.  Whatever the case may be I am on unsure footing.  Was he lying then, when he said he made them up?  Or was he simply lying the entire time?  Were there three?  Were there more than three?  How long had he been doing this?  In some ways I’d like to know if he was sexting with this other person (I’ll call her Anne) the entire time he was sexting with Harley or if he began a relationship with her after he called it quits with Harley.  I know it doesn’t matter.  He’s a lying liar who lies and a cheating cheater who cheats.  That’s all I need to know.  For some reason I think it would make me feel better to know the entire time he’s telling people he’s going to marry his gold digging ex-con that he’s sexting other women.  A vindication perhaps.  See?  You’re nothing special, Harley.  He’s cheating on you just like he cheated on me.  You don’t make him any happier than I did.

Stay tuned.  I’ve got more to say on this topic.

13kz95

 

A Letter to My Kids

Hey Kids,

The time has come for you to find out that your mom is not all powerful.  That I am, in fact, human and I make mistakes.  So I want to apologize to both of you.

I’m sorry I picked such a wretched excuse for a human being to be your father.  He has failed you in ways I couldn’t even begin to imagine.  For years I listened to him whine on and on about his father and how he was rejected by him.  But you know what?  He always financially supported him and that’s more than I can say for your own dad.

I’m sorry I chose to be a stay at home mom instead of working a job so that when this time came I could support you without his help.  Don’t get me wrong.  I loved being at home with the two of you.  I loved being the one to take you places and plan school parties and volunteer at your schools.  I loved going on field trips and being here at home at the end of day.  I loved being able to watch you at all of your meets and games, being the one to drop you off and pick you up, being able to travel with you.  I truly did.  In hindsight, though, I never should have done it.  I should have worked.  I should have told your dad that his career wasn’t more important than my own job.  I should have followed my passion and done something with my life aside from being your mom.  I know that sounds like a shitty thing to say and I don’t mean it to be because, again, I loved being here for you.  I still do.  But I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place now.  I’m sinking fast and I’m taking both of you with me.

I’m sorry I didn’t stand up to him more and baby and cater to him less.  Maybe if that had been the case he would have left sooner and I would have more options.  Maybe it would have helped and he never would have done any of this.

I’m sorry I can’t keep you here through graduation, Rock Star.  I cry every time I think about it even though everyone tells me you’re going to be fine.  I’m going to end gymnastics for you forever.  I’m going to take away you being captain for your team.  I know high school gymnastics was not what you wanted and won’t take you to college but it was better than no gymnastics at all.  I’m taking you from a place where you are a very big fish in a pretty small pond and I’m going to turn you into a goldfish in the ocean, if goldfish could survive in salt water.  I feel like I’m ruining your high school experience and I am so so sorry for that, my sweet girl.  Once again, I listened to your dad whine for years about how he was constantly moved as a child and never attended the same school each year.  He never switched high schools though, a privilege he is denying you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t do whatever it was that I needed to do to stay married and give you two a stable home, even if one of your parents wasn’t always sane or even around much.  If I knew what I did wrong, or what I didn’t do that he wanted me to do, I would have taken the appropriate action.  But I have no idea what it is I did or didn’t do that made your dad choose to have an affair.  Honestly, I know  that I can only be responsible for my own actions and he is responsible for his.  I am truly sorry, though, that I couldn’t make this marriage work.

Finally, I am so sorry I agreed to this move.  I am so sorry I tore your lives apart for this shit storm we are in now.  I’m sorry for the pool that we are probably never going to swim in even though we’ve spent a crapload of money on it.  I’m sorry about your friends and your sports and your schools.  I’m sorry about everything that you’ve had to lose and all that you’re still going to lose.  I’m sorry I don’t have a home of our own to move us to.  I’m sorry for all the dreams you have that aren’t going to come true because we have to leave.  I’m sorry for all the plans that you are making that aren’t going to happen.  I’m sorry we’re going to be poor and your lives are going to be turned so far around you aren’t even going to recognize them.  I’m sorry for everything.

Your uncle tells me every time I say that that it’s not me who is ruining your lives- it’s your dad.  I’m here, though, and he’s not.  So I’m the one who is apologizing.  I cannot apologize enough for what is going to become of your lives.  I would say I should have picked better but then I wouldn’t have you two.  At any rate, I failed you both, and for that I’m sorry.  I’ll do my very best to make it up to you somehow.  I promise.

Love,

Mom

Is My New Lawyer Psychic?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A New Medical Breakthrough- Personality Transplants!

Logically, I know such a thing does not exist.  It is so tempting though to try to convince myself that surely there was something I could have done differently.  Or, maybe he is correct when he says (most frequently to my kids!) that we didn’t have a happy marriage, we had grown apart (once we had kids, of course), and my favorite, we just aren’t good together.  I will admit that some days I think that maybe he’s a different person with her.  Afterall, it was like pulling teeth to get him to even do anything FUN with us most of the time.  He had too many “issues” to go out to dinner with his own kids on their birthdays, but he can go out to dinner with no problem with his fake family.  He can spend Christmas Eve trolling the mall, spending hundreds of dollars on kids that aren’t his, but he couldn’t be bothered to personally hand his own kids the gift cards he bought them (he left them on the counter with a note) or to text/call them on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.

I think back to how he told his sister that Harley made him happy.  I’ve spent two years stewing over that, asking myself why I couldn’t make him happy despite everything I did for him.  Some days I am almost able to convince myself that he is correct and that we were just bad for each other and he now has a chance to be happy.  Harley obviously has something that I don’t; she’s his ticket to happiness and I need to face facts that they are a better match.

Then I throw my head back, let out a loud guttural laugh, probably snort a few times, and say, “Wake the fuck up!  There is no such thing as a personality transplant.  He’s the same miserable person he’s always been and always will be.”  That’s the short pep talk.  The longer one goes into how he’s traded me in for a much cheaper model with a hell of a lot of more miles on her. That he found and bought her at the impound auction.  That she’s already fooled around with other men while telling him he’s her one and only Schmoopie Bear, and that she will continue to do so.  That her kids trash talk him behind his back.  It’s a very long talk but it makes me feel better.

Here’s the thing:  I don’t really believe a leopard will change its spots.  I think a person can bring out the worst in you (or the best, to be fair), but I also believe that you are who you are.  I may have lost a lot of who I was in my marriage while trying so hard to please him and keep everything together, but I was still me.  I am basically a happy, outgoing person.  I tend to see the glass as half full instead of half empty. And if that half full/half empty glass is filled with vodka all the better.  I try to make the best of any situation I am in; I get involved and try to make friends.  Sure, in new situations I tend to hang back and assess the scene.  I am often leading the charge, but I’m also perfectly happy hanging back and let others take over.  I try to see the best in people- except CF and Harley- they’re lost causes.  At the root of it I am a happy person.  I’ve heard it said once that there are people who could be happy with their lives even while living in Cleveland and there are those who wouldn’t be happy even if they lived in Hawaii (feel free to insert wonderful destination of your choice if Hawaii doesn’t do it for you).  I’m happy in Cleveland.  CF is miserable in Hawaii.

Who he was with me is who he’s going to be with her.  Oh sure, right now everything is great (except for her sleeping with her husband- allegedly).  Add to that the fact that he’s a part time soul mate.  I’m sure the drive is getting to be tiresome but hey, he doesn’t have to worry about helping her out with her kids’ homework, or getting them ready for bed, or shuffling them around.  He isn’t expected to help out with laundry or the dishes, and if he does it’s a novelty and not something he HAS to do on a regular basis.  I’m sure there is still an element of them against me even though I don’t speak to him.  And let’s face it, it’s so exciting when you only see a person for 2 or 3 days out of the week.  You can pour all of your energy into that person and it doesn’t get tiring at all because you get a FUCKING 5 DAY BREAK FROM HIS CRAZY!!!

If it ever does get to the point where he moves in with her and her brood he will be the same killer of joy, the same soul sucking vampire, the same neurotic mess, the same unimaginative couch potato with her that he was with me.  He will eventually revert back to ordering kids out of “his” chair, or “his” spot on the couch.  He will eventually revert back to shutting himself in the bedroom and watching tv nonstop.  He will eventually no longer find the chaos of four kids charming. He’s not a different person.  He hasn’t suddenly evolved into Mr. Personality because he’s finally found the love of a good woman.  Oh my God, I think I choked on that phrase!  Let me change it slightly.  He hasn’t suddenly evolved into Mr. Personality because he’s finally found the love of a gold digging whore.  Hmmmm…. can gold digging whores love anyone?

When he gets bad news he will end up lying catatonic on a bed, unable to move and forcing her to take charge and make it all better.  When some small snafu hits he will still end up in a tizzy that rivals one of a teenage girl. When he gets sick he will act like he is dying and expect her to drop everything and tend to his every need as proof she loves him.  He will never be a full partner or a good dad.  He will continue to turn mole hills into mountains and he will continue to see himself as the Great Victim.  He might possibly move away from his children and get a new job because he’s so unhappy at this one, but he’s going to end up hating his new job just as much.  Why?  Because when you get down to it he is not a happy person.  He loves being miserable.  He doesn’t know what to do if he is happy.  His semen demon does not have special powers to turn him into someone he’s not.

I think it’s very important for anyone who is dealing with infidelity to tell yourself this and to let it sink in.  Believe it!  It’s true.

But they look so happy on Facebook, you may be saying.  WHO CARES?  Facebook is generally a big fat lie.  I can assure you that no one reading my Facebook page would have had any idea of what was going on in my life.  Hell, I don’t think most people reading my Facebook page NOW have any idea what’s going on, unless I’ve already shared with them.  This sums it up in absolutely the best way:  When you compare your life to a person’s Facebook page you are comparing your behind-the-scenes to their highlight reel.

OF COURSE the cheater and the whore are going to be all gushy and gooey and lovey dovey on Facebook.  I have had it pointed out that in the cheater’s mind it *must* be true in order for them to justify all the destruction they’ve caused.  Who wants to publicly announce they’ve made a huge mistake in tossing aside their wife and kids (or husband and kids for those males who have been cheated on) for some side piece that was a definite downgrade? They are giving you the highlight reel! That’s why Harley might post something like this:  Look at all the fantastic gifts Schmoopie Bear gave me!  How did he know to buy me a vibrator to keep me “happy” during the week so I wouldn’t continue to screw around with other men???  I am so blessed, so happy!  I couldn’t ask for anything more.

What you will never see though is:  How in the hell did his wife put up with his shit for twenty plus years????  I ask him to take one kid to soccer practice and you’d think I had asked him to donate his live, beating heart for a transplant!  Where is my husband when I need him????

Or:  I work full time, too!  Why am I the one stuck doing all the cooking, cleaning, shopping, and laundry?  I feel like I’ve got five kids and not four.  Maybe it’s not too late to get my husband back….

Oh this is fun!  Here’s another one:  I thought I had met my Prince Charming.  Well, since he’s my cousin I actually had met him years ago.  But I thought once I lured him away from his wife he would be MY Prince Charming finally.  He cooked, he cleaned, he bought us lots of shiny stuff, he made pancakes for my kids, he was always up for fun outings.  Now that we’re living together he just sits in the bedroom and watches TV.  He doesn’t want to go anywhere, just wants to sit around and drink.  And since he has to pay child support and spousal support he can’t buy us stuff all the time!  I’m stuck doing EVERYTHING.  He can’t even run to McDonald’s and pick up a couple of orders of pancakes for my kids now.  Boy, did I get fooled!

Similarly, CF will never acknowledge the fact that he chose a woman who is already unfaithful to him while I remained faithful for over 21 years. Or that he chose a woman and children who value him for his wallet and nothing more while he tossed away the woman who spent years following him around the country and helping him to build his career, and the children that loved him and wanted his TIME and ATTENTION.

How do I know all of this?  First, I’m really smart.  Second, I read a lot.  Third, I’ve seen it play out already in his family.  But I’ll save that story for another time.  Suffice to say, though, that the exact same things that were said about Husband #2 in order to justify dumping Husband #1, were then said almost verbatim about Husband #3 in order to justify dumping Husband #2.

There was no personality transplant.  Not for her, and not for him.  There was just a cheater’s handbook, and they all play the same game.