Today we have the classic tale of the man who might leave his wife someday, just as soon as he finds someone who can pass the lengthy audition process.
It’s not easy to become This Fucking Guy’s Next Ex-Wife. First, there’s the initial chemistry read, where you provide the sex he’s not getting at home, followed by a series of callbacks where you demonstrate skills like shrinking your needs to a manageable (invisible) size and listening to story after story where he is a helpless victim of circumstance without laughing and telling him to get lost. Should that all go well, and should you prove flexible enough to schedule your entire life around his convenience, there’s just one final step: Proving that you, yourself, alone, can personally make up for all the ways every woman he has met have let him down in the past. Are you ready for the challenge?
The lies they tell the OW.
The lies a former betrayed spouse believed about me. Told to her by a proven cheater. Sheeesh.
Read on, it’s fantastic! Best thing I’ve read on the crap-cheaters-tell-their-affair-partners-and-they-believe-them ever.
Lying liars who lie.
And the whores they convince.
After all.
Isn’t one of the best calls when meeting someone new, “is there anyone who thinks they’re in a relationship with you?”
I mean, hell. She went to my holiday home, knowing I didn’t know we were apparently “separated.”
I’m “supposed” to be going to a gig with BG and friends tonight, in Auckland.
I’m not going.
I have something else on.
He seems to have forgotten I have no driver’s license. How can I meet him up there???
I’m going up tomorrow for our national conference. My team is going to drive my car for me.
And yeah. I feel guilty. Because I have spent a lifetime doing what I’m “supposed” to do.
Always putting other people’s needs before mine.
Not this time. I know he’ll be disappointed. But I literally can’t get there even if I didn’t have an old friend flying in from Sydney to stay with me tonight.
I’m trying to look after me now.
It’s hard. Those habits, those people pleasing grooves, they run deep.
Honestly. Why does this shit, about how cheaters justify their selfishness, even get “researched” and click bait articles get written?
If it feels good, just do it.
I’m so sick of infidelity being normalised.
Like, sure. It happens. Next.
Why can’t you just move on?
The reality is, for every betrayed I have ever met, it has made them very, very sad.
And that happens whether the relationship seemed amazing or if it was just hanging on by a thread.
Even those who, unlike me, were not madly in love, cheating is devastating to them.
But hey. Those who have never been cheated on love to blame us betrayeds. We deserved this agony.
I’ve been shunned and blamed.
For what?
Being an excellent, loving, loyal, hard-working partner.
But no. I can’t have been. I”ve been accused of being shit in bed. Not sexy enough. Not rich enough. Not clever enough. Etc
Not enough.
So I got what I deserved.
A broken heart.
As this commenter writes about, Chump Lady’s dissection of the chumps-deserve-to-be-cheated-on narrative…
While the excruciating pain of Roger’s infidelties cannot be topped, being blamed for his choices to betray my loyalty and unwavering faith in him was also agonising.
If he wasn’t getting kibbles from the online hookup women, he’d love bomb me.
If he waa getting his ego boosted by them, he’d pull away. I never knew what I was doing wrong. He was erratic. However, if I talked about separation, he’d pull me close and promise me the world.
It’s telling that the exact wording he used to justify his affair with Leanne – that started just a few months after I took my first off farm job in seventeen years (we had worked shoulder to shoulder all those years) – was that I had abandoned him.
Abandoned him.
By going to my paid employment five days a week.
It was unsettling, this pull me in, push me away stuff. I started to doubt myself. My own boundaries. What was I doing to cause this behaviour? It must be me, right?
No. It never was. It was his childhood stuff. His inability to self soothe. He used sex and affection for that. I now know why he liked so much sex. It wasn’t because I’m irresistible. (Damn! Lol.)
It was because he used my desire for him to soothe himself. To reassure himself that he was loved.
I remember feeling so much empathy for that little boy. The one whose Mum was depressed and showed her love erratically.
Come here. Go away.
And now, having experienced all of the Roger’s love dysfunction of telling me I’m the love of his life, then complete discard, with BG withdrawing to lick his wounds, I’m triggered I know what it is. He doesn’t want to “bother” me.
I told him last night that he’s doing this thing. That he is all over me when I need support. But refusing to accept mine. He’s scared I’ll judge him as weak if he accepts my love and support when he’s obviously struggling with stuff.
It’s making me extremely anxious.
I have identified it, though. And am trying to communicate.
So far, he’s not buying in. Still holding himself to a “higher standard.” I told him that’s not really okay. That I’m not the only one who’s allowed problems.
He’s never had a partner who is there for him. He’s always had to survive alone. He doesn’t know how to allow my support. Too scary.
Fuck.
Men.
And their fucking ideas that they have to solve everythung alone.
I know I post a lot about stuff that happened “before.”
The reason for that is that this is where the trauma goes.
I tell the story over and over to get it outside of me.
Because otherwise, it weighs me down.
Threatens to drag me into the dark depths.
So, to those who want me to be quiet, to not tell my story, however many times, however long it takes, I’m sorry you are offended. But this is how I am moving on. This is how I am coping.
And I dreamed about some fucked up shit last night. About us being friends.
Because, it was always what I thought would happen should we part ways.
I never in a million years thought he’d fuck me over, betray me the way he did. He was my best mate.
And this. I thought this could be us.
Just so you all know….I have been totally meh for years…I “think” we have been divorced 11 or 12 years….I would have to look at the decree…and basically…we get along pretty well when we see each other. He is remarried…not to AP. Tonight…we happened to be in the same bar…You know…Sunday Funday…..and as he walked by me…He put his hand on my shoulder….and I turned around and asked…”Are you dying?” I shouldn’t make light….but it struck me funny as hell!!!!!
Because he truly seems to think we are friends. That I will be his friend again someday. I can see him touching me in the future.
Maybe not. Maybe his casualness around me is bullshit.
Maybe he really hates me.
I don’t know, or care, what Trinket thinks about this.
But, it fucks with me. If this ever happens, if I get to that point, the point my mother did, when she was fine with my cheater father, who even am I? Will that mean I have no self respect? Am I putting up a shield to the man who just “made a mistake?” FFS.
I always thought we’d be connected. Love each other. No matter what.
Tearing at the Fabric 