So, how would you handle this?

Wow, three blog posts in one day.  To my subscribers (few, but loyal) I apologize for all the emails.  But thing have been moving along at a good clip today.

So, the f*cktard my husband came out of the bathroom this evening and says, a bit defensively I might add, “I’m going to *undisclosed state* in September.  I don’t know for how long, but I’m going.”

Now, I know he’s going to visit the bitch his girlfriend.  What the hell am I supposed to do about that?

I cannot move out yet.  That is out of the question.  I have no job, no money and no resources.  I have to stay here.  As much as it pains me to say it, I can’t get away from this dickhead any faster than I’m managing right now.

Oh, believe me, I wish I could.

My first thought is to have the lawyer send a private investigator down and have pictures taken.  I think that this is the best course of action.  I don’t know if my state is a no-fault state, but I know that this will give me leverage with the military.

So, my second thought is to make sure I have copies of those pictures before he comes home.  He keeps saying he’s so close to retirement and he’s looking forward to getting out of the military.  Well, let’s make sure that the last few months of your time in the military are just peachy, huh?  I’m feeling a no-contact order coming on and maybe a little threatening from the JAG.

My  mother called me impulsive earlier tonight (which I sometimes am) but this one I have thought through.  I want that no-contact order in place until our divorce is final.  I definitely want it in place until I move out.  Maybe I can send those pictures and her information anonymously.  Then he won’t be able to link it back to me.

I can’t sleep at night because I dream of hurting him.  The other night I rolled over and had to physically tense up so that I wouldn’t just punch him right in his big, fat nose.

Maybe I can have the  military move him out until I move out.  Maybe that would be a good way to do it.

Well, since we’re dreaming, maybe he’ll die in a fiery car wreck on the highway and we’ll get his life insurance.  I’ll make sure to scatter his ashes over a sewage treatment plant.

It’s so much easier to be bitchy than weepy.  It’s sure a hell of a lot easier on my eyes.

Like I said, this being forgotten stuff is hard.  I just have to get through it.


Me? Bitter? Nah…..

I talk to my  mother nearly every day.  She is, quite honestly, one of my very best friends.  I tell her *almost* everything.  There are just some things that a mother shouldn’t know and I keep those to myself.  However, I’ve stopped holding back where it concerns the dissolving of my marriage.

Today I told her that my douchebag husband, might be useful if I get this job I interviewed for.  I would need to get into the base system and since the asshole he works at the squadron that handles those things, I might be able to get the stuff done quicker.

I told her, “I’ll use him for my purposes and then throw him away like the toilet paper I wiped my butt with.”

She laughed and said, “Well, as long as you’re not bitter at all!”

Who? Me? Bitter?  No way!

OK, yes I’m bitter.  I’m bitter about the way this whole thing has gone down.  I’m bitter about the fact that he is throwing all of his energies into this woman instead of his job.  I’m bitter about the fact that I’ve already been thrown away even though I’m RIGHT FREAKING HERE!

Because I think that’s what hurts the most.  The one person in the world that is supposed to care about, by dint of the vows they took, is your spouse.  They are legally bound to care about you (alright, I know this sounds naive, but follow my logic here).  They are supposed to care that you don’t feel good or that your down or that something happened to you that isn’t right or fair.  They are SUPPOSED to care.

And he doesn’t anymore.  He doesn’t come right out and say, “I don’t care about you anymore.”  No, it’s more insidious than that.  It’s me telling him where I’m going (so he can wonder if I don’t come back) and him saying, “Whatever.”  Or me asking him a question and him answering, “I don’t care.”

He has done that all through our marriage, when he’s miffed or pissed.  And it doesn’t hurt any less than it hurts now.  Especially now when he’s also posting all those wonderful Farmville pictures for all to see. Cause those pictures are just salt in the wound.

I should be able to call up my husband and celebrate things with him, accomplishments in my life.  When I told him I had two job interviews today, instead of the scheduled one, he texted me “Sweet. I wish you the best of luck.”  Not because he wanted to celebrate the triumph, but because I  need the money to move out so that we can get a divorce.

I don’t know if I have a leg to stand on with this.  I couldn’t give a crap less about him either.  But at least I’m trying to pretend I do.  When he wanted to bitch about his job, I commiserated with him.  Told him he was right and the powers that be were wrong.  When something goes well for him, I tell him, “Good job.”  When he talks about his schooling and other professional education, I support him.

Maybe I should just quit that.  It doesn’t do any good.  He’s not going to reciprocate in any way, shape or form.  Why should I expend the effort if he’s not going to? Why should I pretend to be anything other than what I am?  I’ve been pretending for a long time and I’m sick of it.

At this point, I have to pretend to eat with him because he turns my stomach so badly.

I just want all of this to be over.  I want it finished and done with.  The aftermath of being forgotten I should be able to handle nicely.

The process of being forgotten, well…it’s a bitch.


Math isn’t my strong suit, but even I can do this calculation.

I never took statistics in college.  I actually abhor math and focused on other things in school.  But I wanted to share a few numbers with you:

2,433 – this is the number of text messages sent between my husband and his girlfriend since July 27 of this year.

56 – this is the number of pix/flix messages that have been sent back and forth between them since the same date, leading me to believe that someone is possibly sexting.

1330 – this is the number of minutes (of our 1400 shared) that my husband has used since July 27 of this year.  Per my calculations, over 90% of those minutes have been used on calling her (I just wanted to insert here that we have Friends and Family and had he inserted her in there, making the calls free for him, I would probably never have gone investigating about why the phone bill was so high and found out what I’ve found out. Idiot).

$67.77 – the amount of money that my husband cost us last month in phone overages because he was calling her so often.

62 – the number of minutes that his average call to her is during his workday.

270 – the number of minutes that his longest call has been to her (I did the math and that’s about 4.5 hours).

4 – the number of farmville photos he has on his page where they have spelled out sappy messages to each other.

As an aside, here’s the new picture.

His caption: Ah so sweet

Her response:  “you better not let go this time, no matter what I say lol.”

So, what does this all add up to?  Well, if it were the me yesterday that posted I would say something weepy like, “There’s just no chance we can get back together *sniff* What am I supposed to do?? *sniff sniff*”

Today, however, this is what I think this adds up to:


Ahhhh, that feels so much better.  I have a call in to the lawyer and I’m hoping I  hear back from her PA today.  Gotta take her some phone records, pictures and messages and see what I have.  I definitely have to go to the JAG sometime this week, but I gotta print this stuff off first.  I’m not sure about his Chief yet, I think I’ll wait till I’ve talked to that lawyer.

Today is a new day.  I can either spend it trying to forget about that damn phone bill or the pictures on Facebook or I can be a conniving, underhanded, SMART, STRONG woman and use this information to my advantage.

Guess which way I choose to go?

Forgetting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.


I wanted to put this PS in because it’s a very important day today.  Today, my oldest friend has her birthday.  This woman and I have been friends for 32 years.  An amazing record considering that my father was military and I moved away from her when we were 11.  I joined the military, married military, then she married military and they have orders to the base where I am currently living.  She joked last night that we would be able to spend our 35th anniversary together – I wonder what that one is…Is it platinum? LOL  Anyway, she is one of the reasons that I am going to make it through all of this crap and she has always, always been there for me.  I love her, not like a sister, but because she is my sister.  Not by blood, not by adoption.  We didn’t have the same parents.  She is a better kind of sister, the kind that comes to you out of the blue and stays forever.  Happy Birthday, my Sister.  I love you!