The Third Annual Infidelity Valentine’s Day Contest!

D.I.V.O.R.C.E.
The Valentine’s gift my ex gave to me
I never, ever got a gift before.
That is until the dickhead screwed his whore
Him paying me out has made the F*Wit poor.

There once was an adulteress named Stephanie

To justify her cheating she had an epiphany

If I pick a fight with my spouse

And he spends the night out of our house

The same night when I fuck someone else

After getting high and inebriated

I’ll just say we were “separated”.

After fifteen years
Twins by IVF. They’re here!
Hey, where did you go?

Ok I am digging this… I might just submit several… 🙂

Oh Em was a woman so sweet
From enlarged liver to feet
A Rainbow girl, all smiles and pearls
My X thought she was so neat

An old fashion girl, it’s true
With the office men she did screw
My X was the knight, with dick oh so bright
On her broom to the future they flew

The first wife, you know, well that’s me
Was supposed to cry in her tea
Well her life turned out fine, Her friends are divine
With her children happy to see.

Em, what will the future hol’?
With disordered abusive asshole
Order that wine and drink, you are fine
Because that dick shrinks when it’s old… or cold, or crabby or tired or feeling mean or whatever…

I thought we were love struck
The whole marriage through
But it was just an illusion and the illusion was you.

And my limerick…

Craigslist scammers, gold-diggers, and whores
Who are looking for pervy old bores
Call my Ex.-he wants to meet ya’
He’ll get you an fiance visa
In exchange for some blow-jobs and chores

She said, “You’re not the boss of me!”
And was as arrogant as arrogant can be
Found the other man by looking at the cell
Remember her eventually saying other bar trash as well
And now I divorced from her happy and free!

You swapped pics that were wrong
Your tits, his schlong
Our marriage you defiled
Then acted like a child
So I say to you, “So long”!

Once there was a guy named John,
Who thought he was a real Don Jaun.

His hands and dick wandered,
His wife’s love he squandered.

Lost his job cause he was calling women,
In lies he was swimming.

He got on his knees,
Begged his wife “pretty please!”

Then clever Don Juan told her a fiction,
It wasn’t his fault (it was an addiction!).

So Don Juan went on the DL,
But his wife knew him too well.

His kids disowned him,
The girlfriend won’t bone him.

His fearless wife got a divorce,
She’s betting on her own course.

Now all he does is cry and moan,
To get laid he’d have to take out a loan.

Okay, so here’s a non-standard non-entry. Neither haiku nor limerick, and far too long. Offered up as a share in the spirit of the day:

My Picker is Broken: A Love Song

The day they were passing out mothers
I was hiding behind the door,
Slicked up in my best bib-and-tucker,
Shootin’ steelies on Heaven’s floor.

By the time I had gathered my marbles,
All others had left the game.
I looked around for a mother
And from out of nowhere she came.

Her limbs were made of barbed wire,
Twisted steel and brass,
And dangling inside her bosom beat
A heart from the breast of an asp.

She screamed, “You’re late! You’re dirty!”
With her lip curled up in scorn.
Her eyes were bitter, her lips no better
And she dragged me off to be born.

Ah, my picker is sicker than some people’s pickers
But not as sick as some.

It seems the others were taken,
The soft, the serene and kind,
The playful, the happy, the hopeful,
The motherly mothering kind.

The one that was left out of leftovers,
Was the only mother they had.
So I shrugged my shoulders and went along
Thinking, “It can’t be that bad.”

Turns out that was optimistic,
And things went from bad to worse,
Yes, I picked the barbed wire monkey mom
From all moms in the universe.

My picker is sicker than some people’s pickers
But not as sick as some.

As soon as I could skedaddle
I slipped right out her door.
I moseyed down along the road
Thinking there might be more.
More to this thing called love,
More to this thing called life,
More than a home of chaos and conflict
And threats and fear and strife.

Turns out that was optimistic,
But this time correctly so.
As I moved along the road of life
I found people who seemed to know
The secret of being happy,
That touches that kept life warm,
And I studied the other mothers I saw
And watched as they did no harm.

I thought, “I’ve got this covered.
I can be a mother like these
I reject the Gospel of Barbed Wire,”
And I pledged to kiss skinned knees,
To tuck my children into bed
With a laugh and a story and song.
But turned out that from out of that theory,
I got a few details wrong.

Ah, my picker is sicker than some people’s pickers
But not as sick as some.

Turns out that when I slipped out the door
And moseyed on down the road
Along with my favorite steelies,
A rock, a flower, a toad,
A shiny button, a Band-Aid,
A pencil, some paper and glue,
I also packed my picker,
An act I later would rue.

It turned out my picker was broken,
Although I thought it was fine.
It looked quite grand on the outside
With dials and pointers and lines
And it ticked as loud as any
And the buzzer went off on cue.
But the picker was set for Barbed Wire Love
And hearts as tough as a shoe.

Ah, my picker is sicker than some people’s pickers
But not as sick as some.

Well, I’ve taken it in for adjustments.
I’m trying to get it fixed.
It’s led me astray in my picking
But I’m hoping to learn from this.

I’m hoping my children do better.
I’m hoping it’s not too late.
I’m hoping I learn to listen to
The friends that are screaming, “Wait!
Don’t pick that up. Don’t touch that.
You’re taking an awful chance.
That didn’t work out so well in the past when
You did the Pick-Me Dance.”

It turns out that others have pickers, too,
And some of them picked me.
And I’m learning the meaning of friendship,
And I’m learning that I can be free.
And freedom has its chills and fears,
and happy comes with a price.
But I’ve paid that price already,
And I think I’m ready for Nice.

I’m ready to be my own good friend,
I’m ready to pick Alone
Over being with someone my picker picked out
When calibrated to Barbed Wire Love
And hearts as hard as stone.

I will cheat on you
But will never cheat on her
I’m certain, he said.

New-Age Norton was drifting at sea
Riding waves of doubt and misery.
So he stuck his rudder
In some mermaid’s udder
Now the sea-cow’s his soulmate Schmoopie.

chances for Plan B:
limit x —> ∞
of 1/x

He considered daily sex “a rut”.
Tried to get me to take it in the butt.
You want shit on your dick?
Well, then I’m not your chick.
Go ‘head and buttfuck that fat slut.

But make sure you don’t tell the sweet whore,
That this is Dday number four.
and that all the romancin’
is to keep me pick-me dancin’
while you violate her huge back door.

Fecal incontineeeeeeeeeence…yeah!

A couple of limericks:

His wife went out looking for action:
Being True gave her no satisfaction.
She said, “It’s my path.”
He replied, “Do the math:
By divorce, I add by subtraction.”

My ex loved to brood and to quibble
If she felt she was shorted on kibble.
She gets what is due her
When married men screw her.
Turns out, I married a Sybil.

And a couple of haikus:

All those vibrators
Left behind in your nightstand.
Oak nightstands burn bright!

If you laid the men
On Facebook end to end I
Wouldn’t be surprised.

Cheater, liar; you
Told her marriage was over
Before you told me.

Love-bombed, hooked, and chumped.
I loved who I thought you were.
Ha! Joke is on her.

Lost more than you know.
Stuck her with your broken dick.
Hope you’re happy now.

Her husband cheated.
She swapped her cheater for mine.
Karma bus is here.

There once was a deadbeat named Phil,
Who refused to pay marital bill.
Instead, spends his money
Impressing his honey.
Out of cash? Leave him she will.

Don’t worry, he said.
She doesn’t date married men.
Famous last words. Chumped!

Let’s end this quickly.
Divorce can’t come soon enough.
What’s taking so long?

Still denies affair.
I have more proof than he knows.
What an idiot!

Thanks for letting me vent in a creative way!

I think I’m nearly at Meh.
There’s little he could do or say,
That would make me care
If it’s five hos, and a spare.
I divorced him, and he went away.

Also, this was a poem I wrote in the depths of my sorrow after DDay and my daughter leaving the US:

‘The Herring Bone’

the slenderest thread
keeps me alive.
A herring bone
stretches from
Here, Massachusetts
to Hamburg, Hanseatic
city of rivers and herring
And daughters and love.

one day someone banged on my door
it turned out to be my husbands whore
he is mine she insisted
I’m not bitter or twisted
just free of his lies evermore

There once was a gaslighter named Ryan.
My forgiveness, he always was buyin’.
Til the abandonment, more than mild,
He is- less than a year later- with a new child.
And now O-Wife is prey to his lyin’.

My, that was therapeutic.

Our cheaters live lives of distain,
They wound us and feed off our pain……….
…….But……
Chumps not only survive,
But we triumph and thrive,
And we rise from the ashes again!

You’re old and you’re not any fun
Too much attention to our daughter and son
I must be the star
Worship me near and afar
Or off to a bar slut I’ll run.

He said “The Universe is under no obligation to make sense to you”
The affair “mistake” he could not undo
He pined for her in vain
Assuming I had no pain
Now he’s lost her and his family because we’re through