Smitten with Him

grown-up stuff happens here sometimes

Moving Right Along


In the marriage-ending department things are going well.

I guess I expected a little more bitterness/strife/anxiety from Doom-n-Gloom. Even though he hasn’t changed any of his core behaviors that I cannot live with (eg: his complete inability to realize anyone else exists in this world besides himself, yada yada…), he is being more conversational and ‘friendly’ than usual.

Please don’t get me wrong here. I am NOT complaining!! But Doom-n-Gloom’s lack of ‘passion’ or any sort of feelings towards this divorce gets me to thinking: most men fight back in some way when their wives are divorcing them. In some distorted and perverted and immature way, doesn’t that mean the husband still cares for the relationship and/or wife and is sad/upset/hurt to be losing it/her?? Kind of like pre-separation anxiety?

Anyway, what I think I am trying to say here is:

  1. I am very relieved. Hopefully he stays in his denial holding pattern (if that’s what this is) until after the initial hearing in mid-August (at least).
  2. If he’s this apathetic about me leaving him, how much did he even care about me (and/or us) to begin with?

Truly, none of that really even matters because our marriage was broken long before I started this blog.

It just took me this long to figure out that I deserve to be with someone who cares about me, myself, my well-being and (along with me) endeavors to work on our relationship every single day we’re together – and even on the days when we’re not.


Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Date Night

It was so nice to be with Loverman again: my addiction. It’s like I’ve come down from a high and then I get high again and have to come down all over.

Or, maybe a better analogy would be a pendulum. I feel like I am swinging over to one side and then momentum carries me all the way across to the opposite side, just to be flopped back for forth.

Again and again and again.

But, I guess that’s what love is, right? Ups and downs, highs and lows, ins and outs 😉 …

Twice I told him that I love him. Once last night before bed and once this morning when we woke up. Something totally unprecedented!

Some of you may be thinking, “If you love him so much, why are you fucking Mr. AM on the side and still entertaining messages from other men?

Truthfully, I really don’t fucking know. All I know is that I am trying to figure this shit out like everyone else in this crazy place. Maybe I think I need a diversion when Loverman isn’t around, maybe I am trying to maintain some type of separation from him because I don’t want to get too close. Maybe I need a self-confidence boost. Maybe I am trying to mess things up…

But the fact remains, I really do love my sexy Loverman, and the feelings I have for him confuse and befuddle me every single day.

Of course there are things that I don’t love about him, too. But on the whole he’s a pretty awesome guy with some commitment issues.

We are creatures of habit, Loverman and I. So, our reunion Date Night this week was like we just went all back to normal again. A nice drive “up the hill” to our casino hotel. We saw our regular bartender who, over the course of 2 hours, served us 4 shots of tequila each — I love drinking with Loverman — then we strolled back to our room.

We took off our clothes in front of the television while we were still talking, about what I cannot remember, and then climbed into bed.

The topic of conversation changed then, and I can completely remember what we were talking about. It was one of the strangest thing to mention when you getting ready to sleep with your Other Woman. He asked me, “When we’re at skating, what do people call me?”

Me: Ummm… Your name?

Him: No, Peanut! I mean, do they call me your husband or boyfriend or what?

Me: Most everyone there thinks you are my husband.

Him: Do you say anything to them?

Me: Yes. I tell them you’re not my husband. Why do you ask?

Him: Because everyone refers to you as my wife. I tell them the same thing as you: that you are not my wife, that you are my best friend.

Me: One guy calls you my husband every single time he refers to you, and I correct him every single time. He just replies, ‘Whatever’ and shrugs.

Him: Yeah. I know who you’re talking about. I get that response from pretty much everyone anyways. What I think is strange is that all of them know your daughter, too.

(I don’t mention it here much, because it doesn’t really matter, but Loverman is almost as black as night. I’m a German Girl and most definitely white.)

Me: Yeah, and she’s as white as chalk! Obviously they don’t think you’re her father! But, we do all get along together very well and we kind of act like a family when we’re skating together.

He nodded in agreement and I said, “This is sure a strange conversation to have while we’re lying here in bed together, a little drunk, getting ready to have sex” and then I leaned over him and kissed him.

“Well, what do you want to talk about then?”

“How about no more talking right now,” and I kissed him again, deeply this time. Enjoying the feel of his full lips on mine, savoring the lingering taste of tequila on his breath. The alcohol allowed my thoughts to move from the awkward conversation to something completely different.

My right hand wandered down his body, underneath the sheets, to find that he was already erect and at full attention. I giggled and pulled the sheets down so I could take him slowly into my mouth and taste his salty firmness.  It felt so good to have him this close to me again, to be able to feel his skin next to mine, feel the power I have over his body.

We made love like magical clockwork.

Like there had been no break.

There has never been a man who fits me so well.

Inside of me.

Outside of me.

I fell asleep in his arms.

We woke up the next morning and made love again.

It was perfect, and I would have loved to stay there in his arms but we needed to shower and get to work.

We made really good time on the way back and stopped for our breakfast of Lamar’s Donuts 🙂

I loved being able to spend so much time with him, talking and just being together.

I think I just need to keep reminding myself to slow down and stop thinking so much.

Since our date night Tuesday, we skated together Wednesday and Loverman was supposed to leave for his family reunion in Mississippi Thursday. Well… Thursday afternoon, half-way through Kansas, his passenger-side rear axle went out and he had to be towed back to Denver: 365 miles.

That’s a totally boring and long story that will be left untold, except to say that Loverman is home safe and now has nothing working of his own to drive.

Which I will probably learn more about this afternoon when I call him to tell him he can borrow my car 🙂

I hope everyone had a happy 4th of July and that you all get to enjoy a long weekend!


Lost In Discovery…

It’s so simple

I crave intimacy


I want someone to hold my hand

To support me when I need it most

To fix the water heater when it’s broken down

To kiss me before bed

To kiss me when I wake

To cuddle up to after a bad dream

To make love to me in the front seat of my car

Or the shower, or the movie theater, or in my bed

Anywhere. Anytime.

I want someone who enjoys the same things as me

Someone who knows what I mean when I can’t make the words come out right

When I got married, I was too young to know any of these things

How I wanted my relationship to be

How I needed my husband to be

What intimacy was

Now that I know

I am lost in discovery…


Tuesday and the New Truck

These are the two texts I got from Loverman Tuesday afternoon in regards to his purchasing a ‘new’ truck.

#1: Mama, you are going to kill me but I found the truck and they are going to let me drive it today with $200 down.
(this text was cute both because of the nature of the text and the fact that he used my name. He never texts me my name.)

#2: I’m test driving it now. On my way to you so see what you think.

It was so adorably cute I immediately went to go tell my boss about it (she knows all that is going on in my life — I love my boss, she is the best boss I have ever had!). And (grinning, I’m sure) I read her the messages and asked her, “Isn’t this something you would normally ask your spouse?” Her response was, “Neither of you has a great relationship with your spouse. Does it surprise you that he’s asking you about this? I mean, he IS the one that takes care of you instead of <husband’s name>. He is the one that you call when you need something a spouse normally does for their partner.

That is what got me started thinking on the I-Team post from yesterday…

Loverman brought the truck to show me as promised. I checked it out and asked him all the questions I could think of. The cab of the truck was filthy, but nothing that a good scrub wouldn’t fix. We looked under the hood and everything looked clean under there. While he was driving the truck to me, the Check Engine light came on so we talked about that for a minute (he says I’m his “assistant” because I help him work on cars when he needs me and when I have time — I can’t wait until this summer when we can get out to the junkyards!). Every time I thought of something to ask him or tell him about, I received a resounding “Good girl!” It’s amazing how good just a little bit of validation can make you feel, eh?

He tooled around in the truck for the next hour or so until I got off of work because he wanted me to go with him to sign the contract. Also, he wanted me to be there and say if I thought that the whole thing was a good deal.

It turns out that he got the truck. He purchased it through one of those companies that helps you to rebuild your credit. As long as he stays on the automatic payment plan for the next 2.5 years the truck is covered under their full warranty program. That part is awesome because him having money to fix the darn thing was what I was most worried about — Loverman has child support payments and health insurance already being deducted from his checks, he barely makes $250 every other week; I wanted to make sure that he would have enough to cover other things like the water bill and his car insurance.

Just like in last week’s Karma post, I think that things are going too well.

Am I just being paranoid?


Word of the Day: Versatile


(vûrs-tl, -tl)

  1. Capable of doing many things competently.
  2. Having varied uses or serving many functions: “The most versatile of vegetables is the tomato” (Craig Claiborne).
  3. Variable or inconstant; changeable: a versatile temperament.
  4. Biology — Capable of moving freely in all directions, as the antenna of an insect, the toe of an owl, or the loosely attached anther of a flower.

divider line with sparkle

Life of a Lovergirl was kind enough to nominate me for a Versatile Blogger Award a few days ago. Thank you, Mistress! I am honored, but she got me to wondering “Am I really a versatile blogger?

My answer to myself is “No“, because I think it’s safe to say I write about the same thing all the time…


I am stuck with a husband I can’t tolerate and I am in love with another woman’s man. She might not claim him as such any more, but he’s still her man in title. Blah, Blah, Blah…

I’m pretty much a big, fat whiner…

I am not hating on myself and I am not looking for validation. (Also, I am not looking for SEO traffic.) This is my open journal… But I started thinking to myself, “What makes you think that your words are so important that other people even give a shit what you have to say? Why do you feel this obligation to keep people updated about your life? Your husband doesn’t beat you, your parents were parents trying to get it right the best way they knew how, you have two lovely daughters, you have a job, and an apartment… The worst thing in your life right now is that you love a man you can’t have (yet!)?! How conceited are you? What can you possibly have to share?

My posts are nothing but screams for attention. I write whine about how much I dislike the husband, but he’s still my husband. He still lives with me. He is the one sleeping in the bed and *I* am the one on the couch. I am the one who tolerates his laziness and everything else about him because I want to avoid conflict (which, I guess, makes me pretty lazy, too)

divider line with sparkle

But, still people read what I have to say — even if it is the same thing day after day. It’s crazy — but appreciated!

I love the people who read my blog. I haven’t received any negative comments regarding the fact that I am having an affair (even though I have a few followers who appear to be devoutly religious); the few readers that I do have are very nice in their comments… I feel like I have a bigger network of friends and a deeper well to draw from because there are people out there willing to read my blog and, sometimes, even follow it (and even more rarely make comments)!

Thank you, Wonderful Readers, for taking the time out to read my senseless whining and ranting and helping me feel just a little bit more versatile!


Unsexy Texts With the Husband

For your reference:
Dishwasher RepairOur dishwasher has been broken for over two weeks. It doesn’t drain, not even a little bit. Mr. Gloom-n-Doom hasn’t noticed (or maybe his lazy ass has and he just doesn’t give a shit, it could be that, too) and has been using the filthy water over and over again. I had been cleaning the water out every morning before I leave for work so when he loads it up with more dishes at least they aren’t getting washed with the same old dirty water.

On purpose, I didn’t clean out the water last Tuesday before I left for my two days with Loverman. I wanted to see if Gloom-n-Doom would actually notice that the dishwasher was broken… But he didn’t… So, when I got back from my “trip” last Thursday night, there was a load of dishes in the washer and I asked, “Did you clean out the standing water in the bottom before you started a new load?”

His response, “What are you talking about.”

“The dishwasher isn’t draining. I was sure you would notice. I’m surprised it didn’t overflow.”

“I didn’t see any water in the bottom, and I check every time.”

I closed my eyes, and behind my eyelids I rolled them at him. I clenched my tongue between my front teeth because I wanted to say something about how he clearly wasn’t checking and he didn’t know, otherwise he would have noticed that the water wasn’t draining and he wouldn’t have said “What are you taking about?”, but all I said to him was, “Okay.”

So, since Gloom-n-Doom wasn’t going to do anything about it (and I was getting sick of waiting for him to take care of it — he is the one who washes the dishes, so I should have just waited forever for him to call), Monday night when I dropped off the rent check at the office I asked them to come by our apartment and take a look at our dishwasher.

Here, for you, are the text conversations we had yesterday.


ME: Maintenance should be stopping by to fix the dishwasher today.

HIM: Thanks for telling me. Did you tell them to knock first?

ME: They are supposed to call me first. Then I will text you.



HIM: The office just called. I think they’re coming over to fix the dishwasher soon. Next time when you see Loverman (the husband knows his name and used it, not “Loverman”) can you get your tools out of the truck and bring them in?

ME: What about your Uncle D’s tools in the Living Room by the hearth. Is there anything in there that would work?

HIM: It was just a thought. Forget I mentioned it.

ME: Me too.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?! He knows those tools are in the Living Room just as much as I do. He put them there. Why can’t he be the one to use them and fix something? Maintenance came by yesterday afternoon and said they didn’t know if it’s the pump or if it’s just clogged, they will come back later… That was the last I heard from them… The husband hasn’t picked up any of the tools either…

Also (on a complete side-note), that lazy SOB didn’t cook ANY food for his daughters on the two nights when I was gone last week. Just so you know… In case you were wondering… (and I want to record it for posterity’s sake)


That Creepy Feeling You Get… (aka: How to Give a Gift)

… when a stranger starts undressing you with their eyes …

Strange Love - Pop 170by Thomas C. Fedro

Strange Love – Pop 170
by Thomas C. Fedro

Mr. Doom-n-Gloom is being strange this week. Am I surprised? Not really. I know that it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow… And maybe he feels like he has to “make up” for last year.

** BTW – he doesn’t. I am totally over his stupidness and I would really have preferred it if he didn’t get me anything, but it’s his right. After all, I did get HIM something (I haven’t given it to him yet), but not because he’s my Valentine. I got it because I got stuff for my daughters and I didn’t want him to feel left out — like in grade school when everyone has to give something to everyone? But he already got my present and he already gave it to me Saturday: a pot of tulips. They were very pretty! For tulips…

I know it’s the thought that counts, and because of that (and my younger, hypersensitive daughter was along and she helped choose the gift) I very graciously accepted them (almost a week early — why can’t he EVER FUCKING WAIT until the actual holiday?!?! Every single time he buys the present in front of me and then just gives it to me right there. WTF!??! Does he even know how to give a gift?!). AND I don’t like tulips. I have never liked tulips the entire time I have been married to this man. In fact, I have told him numerous times, while passing by or looking at some tulips, why I don’t like them!

The strangeness is this: Mr. Doom-n-Gloom does not notice anything about me. Ever!
I could parade in front of him naked, and I have, and he won’t even look up from the computer where he’s sitting. I can leave the house in a miniskirt that barely covers my ass along with a see-through tank top and I don’t even get a “good-bye”… Won’t he be surprised when he finally notices what I’ve started doing with my coochie! 😉

SalvationArmyFirst instance — this Saturday my daughters and I went to the thrift store and got some awesome stuff!! When we got home we were posing for each other in some of that awesome stuff — the husband came out and said to me “don’t you already have that shirt?” He rarely ever says anything about how I look, I didn’t even think he knew I HAD shirts!!! (unlike Loverman who is overly generous with the compliments — Yay!) And, no, I don’t have that shirt. None of us has ever had that shirt, or anything like it…

Second instance — yesterday morning, for a very long time, the husband was lurking outside of the bathroom where/while I was getting ready for work (it was a little creepy and I started getting uncomfortable) when, out of the blue, he said “nice underwear(thank goodness I had my underwear ON!). As soon as he said it, he walked away…

Both of these times I think he was trying to compliment me, but I can’t tell because A) neither instance really seemed like a compliment, and B) he simply doesn’t compliment me. Ever!

I wonder if that has anything to do with my feeling of uncomfortable and creepy?

Also, this might have something to do with it…

I no longer want the husband to see me in my BVDs. The days of my prancing around uselessly naked in front of him trying to get his attention are long gone. I am no longer comfortable with him seeing my naked body — and it’s not because I groom more frequently down there than I used to. I no longer want to show him “my sexy self”.

I do not fear being naked; I do not have a negative self-image (my nose may be a bit too big…), I just don’t want him taking a crisp mental picture and using it later to help him ‘open his bottle of Squirt’ (if you catch my drift).

friday_68That can’t be normal, right? Yesterday, it kind of felt like the husband was leering at me through some pervy sex-offender’s eyes. Is that normal? I’m horrified that he is getting ideas about a Valentines Day “happy ending” tomorrow… Thinking about it actually fills me with dread. Like: please don’t make me have sex with you tomorrow!

But, if I do have to ‘lay with him’, at least I can be assured that it won’t last more than 1 minute (to the best my knowledge, he hasn’t had real sex with a real person for the last 3 years — not that I would care either way… So, I am thinking that the feeling of a warm, wet pussy will put him over the edge immediately. It has every single other time!). Then he will basque in the glory of his spontaneous ejaculation while he brags about how awesome he was (because apparently, in his universe, the faster he cums the more I enjoy it — which is partially true, but only because I am so glad it’s over!) and drills me about how awesome it was for me. I lie every time. I have to or he starts acting like a spoiled teenage girl all over again. He hasn’t given me an orgasm for over 6 years!

gift-wrappedSo, here’s an idea for my next gift:

  1. Don’t pick it out with your teenage daughter
  2. Make sure I am NOT with you!!!!!
  3. Go to the liquor store (or your nearest Sex Toy Shoppe)
  4. Buy what you KNOW I like — I have shown you what and where it is, all you have to do is remember and pay (purchase the coolest, most expensive vibrating penis toy you can possibly find)
  5. Purchase some chocolates – again, I have told you many, many times exactly what chocolates I like. Do NOT buy me hard candy! (Find the lubricant section and get me something fun and fruity. NO lingerie, please, you will NOT get to see it!)
  6. Acquire wrapping paper and tape
  7. Wrap the gift
  8. Wait to give me the gift until it’s time to give me the gift!!!

Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezie…


Letter to the Husband


This marriage isn’t fair to either of us. It never was. I married you for selfish reasons and now I am staying married to you for selfish reasons. And I think you’re doing the same thing.

I don’t think that I ever loved you like a wife should love her husband. I think I’ve always loved you like I would love a wounded animal at the side of the road. I saw your brokenness and wanted to rescue you and help you fix it. (Sadly, wounded animals try harder!)

So, I selfishly married you because I needed your incompetence to help me substantiate myself. In short, I needed you to need me. Co-dependence drove me back to you over and over again, but recently I began to realize that I don’t need your need to validate myself.

The first year we were together, you broke up with me three times, but I couldn’t live without you (or so I thought) so I kept begging you to take me back. Each one of those times you let me back into your life.

I wish you hadn’t. I wish you had left me to learn about myself on my own. I wish you had left me to have my heart broken by others. I wish that I had enough courage then to stop going back to you, enough self-esteem to tell myself that I didn’t need a “plus one” to be whole.

I chose to let your needs consume me and it caused my whole life to stagnate. Watching you neglect your body over and over again to the point of terminal illness finally opened my eyes. I don’t want us to be miserable any more. We have tried to “make it work” before only to end up right back at Square One every single time. Change with you seems to only be temporary. Once normalcy appears to have been restored, you go right back to your “old ways” because the problem is “solved”. I am not going through that cycle with you again.

By staying with you all this time, attempting to take care of you, I forgot to give myself (or discover for myself) the things that made/make me happy. All of my likes and dislikes were dependent on your likes and dislikes. I gave up my own self because I thought that if I was more like you, if we had more in common, our marriage would be better, that you would love me more. I had no inner strength and tried to find happiness in destructive things: food, drugs, etc… But, those were empty things that only made me feel worse about myself and I started to resent you for introducing me to such self-destructive behavior.

I failed all of us. As a result of my own personal insecurity I forced myself into your life, forced you to want me, forced you to marry me and then have children with me. Now I am unfairly forcing our marriage to stay together because I am too scared to ask for a divorce. Too scared of your reaction. Too scared of the guilt I will feel for forcing you to waste so much of your life with me. Too scared that you will not let me go, now that I finally want to. Too scared of your complete inability to take care of yourself. Too scared that you will continue to neglect your body and that my daughters will be the ones that have to start taking responsibility for your incompetence.

And even after all of that forcing (and all of those reminders that you have two teenage daughters AND all of the reminders that your daughters will end up marrying someone just like you!) I still can’t force you to take care of yourself. Now I am able to see that. Now I am able to see that for the entire time I have known you, you have never really loved yourself. And if you can’t care about you, how can I possibly expect you to care about me or worse, our children? How can you possibly take care of my needs (or anyone else’s) if you go out of your way to ignore your own?

I am done “forcing”… If you want your body to slowly rot from the inside out, you just go ahead and let it. No amount of caring on my part will change how you feel about yourself, obviously. And, please keep telling your two lovely daughters that you won’t live to see them graduate or live to see your grandbabies, you just go right ahead – that is your choice.

The entire time we have been together, I haven’t been able to give you the “best me”. I haven’t been able to give myself the “best me”. With you, I didn’t even know that I had a better me than what I was. So I stayed.

Three years ago I finally met my “best me”. I like her. She is happy and uplifting. People want to hang out with my “best me”. While I’ve been hanging out with my “best me” I have seen that forcing myself to be around you brings out the “worst me”. I am constantly frustrated with you and your total incapacity to follow instructions, to listen, to care… In fact, each day I am absolutely appalled at your seeming refusal to give a shit about anyone but yourself. It takes all of my emotional strength to communicate with you – especially when you are putting in the same lack of effort as always.

I didn’t meet my “best me” until someone else introduced her to me – someone who showed me that he can need me, but that I can also need him. Someone who showed me that I am sexy, smart, and that I am a fun person. He helped my spirit blossom. He helped me learn what “makes me tick”. He helped me learn that I don’t need his flaws to make me feel vital. I don’t think that you ever helped me learn anything good about myself. In fact, I don’t think that you ever even encouraged me to be a better person…

Every night I go to bed wishing that another man was there to keep me warm, to love me, to satisfy my needs. That is not fair to either one of us.

I dread weekday mornings when you come home from work. I dread Saturday mornings when I have to get up early to drive you around on your errands because you are too irresponsible to get a driver’s license. That is not fair to either one of us.

Are you happy with our marriage?

Not me

Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life?

Not me

Is this marriage everything you ever hoped for?

Not me

Did you ever imagine that your wife would be happier sleeping on the couch instead of with you?

I never did…

I want to come home one day and find that you have packed up everything and left me.

I want to stop sitting down in your shit

I want to stop slipping in your pee on the bathroom floor

I want to stop reminding you to turn off the lights and the TV every single day

I want to sleep in a bed

I want to be able to trust my partner

I want to be able to depend on my partner

I want to know that my partner cares about me and is concerned about my happiness (or unhappiness)

I want to WANT to go home at the end of a long day

When I think that I have to go home to you every single night, it makes me cry because you don’t (or won’t? or can’t?) do any of those things for me.

That is most definitely not fair. Not fair to you. Not fair to me. And definitely not fair to our daughters.

I have asked you to “step up” countless times before. I have also told you that “stepping up” doesn’t mean just this one time, it means forever!

I have given you enough “do-overs”.

I want to have enough strength to hand you this letter…


Another 19 Years

It’s another 19-year milestone! YAY!! (not!)

It’s not one that I am happy about or proud of, but this past Monday marked the beginning of my 20th year of spending eternity with The Husband (previously referred to as: Mr. Doom-n-Gloom). It was even more awkward because I had the day off from work in observance of Veteran’s Day…

It was the anniversary of our 19th year together and do you know what we did to celebrate? Not a fucking thing!
Do you know where we went? No fucking where.
Not really a surprise, though. Neither one of us are really “into” this “marriage-thing” any more (and like I have stated before: I don’t think The Husband ever was).

I made him caramel rolls from scratch for breakfast and I was the one who cooked the family dinner that day. Normally he is the one who makes dinner… I cleaned up the kitchen and then tried to stay away from his stupid, pouty ass for the afternoon (in case this was going to be “one of those days” that seem to come more and more frequently). I didn’t buy him anything or get him something physical — he’s so difficult to shop for now that we have lost touch with each other completely. Every once in a while I can find something that’s really “up his alley”, but usually those things are very expensive and I would rather drop that kind of money on my daughters — so I make him things that he doesn’t get to have regularly.

He bought me a coffee mug with 3 packets of Chai Tea and a Christmas Cactus. He gave them to me last Saturday morning. The tea was good, the mug was cute, the plant was okay — but he always gets me plants off the sale rack, then they die (is that a sign?).

I feel like I am downplaying his gifts and uplifting mine (I probably am — but this is MY blog, right?) but I liked what he gave me (except maybe for the plant that will die soon ;)). It was inexpensive and a little bit thoughtful. I am thankful.

I said “Happy Anniversary” twice (once when he got home from work in the morning and once when he woke up and I gave him his caramel rolls). He didn’t say it at all.

NOT ONCE did we come into physical contact with each other.

I guess that I can be happy with the fact that I have stayed married to this stinky, lazy, incompetent, immature, emotionally-vacant, inconsiderate, self-centered son of a bitch for 20 mother-fucking years! That’s a long-ass time to stay with a husband who won’t fuck you more than once every 12 months, or so! (it’s been almost 3 years this time, but that’s because I stopped caring about it or trying to get him to want me)

Go, Me!

Related Posts:


I wish I were…

If things were different…

They just wouldn’t be the same…

My father used to say that all the time. I totally hated it!

Of course I wish things were different. Pretty much I wish that every day! Doesn’t everyone? But I don’t think that I can just wish away all the things that I don’t like. Some of the choices that I regret have turned me into the person that I love now! It would also mean that some of the things I enjoy and appreciate wouldn’t be the same – in fact, they might just cease to exist for me. And, although I won’t remember (because those things would not have happened), I might wish things were different then, too. Who can say what paradoxes I will create in my imagination trying to make things ideal?

“The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.” Patrick Star, SpongeBob Squarepants

If things were different, would I still love SpongeBob Squarepants? Would he still be my hero? Or, would I be voting for Mitt Romney in this year’s election instead? (I know they seem drastically different, but in my mind if I don’t like the one, I must be a “fan” of the other.)

If things were different, my two perfect daughters would be different. Maybe they would still be perfect, but they would be different. I would be different, too… How would I still know that they’re perfect? Heck, would I even have two daughters?

If things were different, my husband would take care of himself (or would he?). He would take responsibility for his actions and clean up after himself. He would act like an adult and treat me like his wife and not his mother. Or, maybe I would have gone through with that divorce 10 years ago. That sure would have changed things! I probably wouldn’t have moved to the lovely place where I live now, far from the repression of family and old memories. I would still be fat and unhappy. I would still be sealed inside my shell of self-protection – shielded from reality… And I would never have met all of these wonderful new people who care about me.

  • I wish I were richer. Then I would be able to take my daughters to Disneyland.
  • I wish I were taller. I don’t know why, I just think it would be more fun for me that way 😉
  • I wish I were sexier. Then I would have more self-confidence.
  • I wish my husband and I were divorced. Then I would have more freedom for myself, and I would be able to teach my daughters about healthy relationships. Really, I think I just wish that I had chosen someone else with whom to spend eternity.
  • I wish I never found out that my father drowns squirrels in a barrel in the garage every summer and then buries them all over the yard! In 2011 he killed 42. The last I heard this year, he was up to 39! What are they doing?! Keeping score?! Well, umm, you’re winning, you can stop already! FYI – squirrels mate for f***ing life, A**-holes!!!!!
  • I wish my mother had never told me that she wished I was more like my little brother and that she likes him better and always has.
  • I wish my parents were Democrats. Then they would just be completely different people than they are right now 😉 and that would be a good thing for everyone!

But some of those wishes are things that I cannot change (but if I keep wishing for it, maybe they will!) and will always be completely beyond my control.

“If wishes were horses, we’d all be eating steak” – Jayne Cobb, Firefly

I wish I had made different choices for my future a long, long time ago. But none of that matters now. I love the person that I have become, the things I have been forced to learn about myself and all of the world around me. If I had made different choices, I would be different too.

I don’t know what it would be like if all the things I wished for came true. All I know is that — things would definitely not be the same. I guess my father was right.

So, I guess the short version is: I wish I were exactly the same as I am right now!

(My attempt at this week’s DPChallenge: “I Wish I Were”)