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UBT: “Loving Your Husband Hurts Me Too”

OWsadThere is no sadder sausage than the Other Woman and her unrequited love. An alert chump sent me this submission, YourTango, “Loving Your Husband Hurts Me Too“, for the Universal Bullshit Translator.

After all this time, I still hope he leaves you.

I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.

Except for his pesky wife.

We sit across from one another at the Greasy Spoon diner, reaching over the table to touch hands, caressing thumbs with the tenderness of a violin player. We must be touching, always touching.

Ours is the kind of love that can only be venerated in greasy diners. The kind with the rotating dessert displays. You know, the classy kind.

I caress my Beloved with the frenzied pizzicato of lust. We are tender violins. We swell. We vibrate. We order waffles.

We joke and laugh, we talk, we sit in pure adoration. I know every inch of his face and he knows every inch of mine.

It’s my face he’s interested in. Really. 

I order his food (one Belgium waffle on the soft side, a plate of crispy bacon) and he orders mine (a short stack, no butter, a bowl of fruit, a side of extra crispy bacon). We sit, together in our love, relishing every second.

I’m a few pancakes short of a stack. He is a flaccid Belgian waffle. But we share a deep mutual love of crispy bacon. 

A car pulls up outside and warrants his cursory glance. The glance holds on a bit too long. The couple in the car comes inside and he follows their every move. They sit two booths behind us. He stares for a moment, then snatches his hands back from the table.

The divot in his ring finger catches the light, reminding me of the torture I so often hide when we’re together. He fumbles in his pocket, quick with fear, and slips his platinum wedding band back on his finger. My heart is in shambles. We get the bill and pay for our unfinished food. Outside, he apologizes. I say nothing and drive home alone in tears.

Is this the thanks I get? A half-finished waffle? I ordered your bacon correctly! I took charge of the menu! I caressed your thumb! And you ask for the check?!

Yes, it’s that special can’t-be-seen-with-in-public-together kind of Love.

You would think after three years of dating a married man, I would be used to this. 

Apparently, you’re a slow learner.

But it still stings just as much as the first time we ran into a relative of his and I had to “hide behind the oranges” in the grocery store. In truth, this was an infrequent occurrence.

Because sometimes having to hide behind citrus fruit is completely acceptable in a relationship… so long as it’s not frequent. 

Maybe that made it worse? I’ll never know for sure. I suppose the fault is mine.

Okay, so I pelted your cousin with a tangerine. 

If I had never let things progress, I wouldn’t feel the hurt tugging on my heartstrings when we needed to disguise our relationship or feel the jealousy when he went home to his wife, as he always did.

So why did I do it? Why does anyone do it? At the start of it all, the perks of the situation swam happily in my mind. Imagine the freedom! Imagine the absence of committed responsibility!

Imagine hiding behind oranges!

I was a secure, confident woman and was not willing to compromise my life for a relationship and everything that came with it.

Like reciprocity, morals… or self-respect.

Like most modern women, I felt I only needed a man for one thing, and a coupled lifestyle was not that thing.

I’m not narcissistic. I’m modern

Yeah, you’re so not interested in being “coupled” that you’ll hide behind oranges or run from half-eaten breakfasts to maintain some simulacrum of a man’s attention. And you want us to think you’re a modern woman?

Somewhere a suffragette is spinning in her grave.

So I figured, who better than a married man? Moreover, a married man with kids!

I’m sociopathic too. The total package, gentlemen. 

He had his responsibilities with his wife and family. There would be no awkward morning-afters, no constant phone calls or texts. I could have all the space I wanted and I would hear no complaints from his end. It would be easy and stress-free.

But what started out as a simple, no-strings-attached relationship (or at least the illusion of one) evolved into much more. You can never have your cake and eat it too.

Sometimes you have to get up from the half-eaten plate of waffles.

Maybe it was the jolt of electricity we both felt when we first met and shook hands or maybe it was our mutual understanding of the other’s troubles. Either way, we grew to rely on one another. We became each other’s go-to when one of us needed support.

He was just a supportive friend. A pal. The person you’d call if you were on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and the host asked, “What is the capital of Burkina Faso?” You unsophisticated, judgmental hicks might say something stupid like, “Ouagadougou.” But Modern people like myself and my Beloved know it’s a trick question. There’s no such thing as Burkina Faso! 

And the casual friendship-with-benefits morphed into a caring, loving relationship. I could see the aurora dancing in his eyes when he saw me, and he could see the sparkle in mine. We knew each other inside and out, our lives so intertwined we were hard to tell apart.

[The UBT needs a moment to vomit….]

I could see the rings of Saturn frolicking in his trousers, and when he saw me, he could see sassy frauleins clogging on tables, with their naughty ankles and woolen knee socks, edelweiss falling from their buck-teeth. Our eyes met and it was earflaps. We knew each other catatonically. Deeply septuagenarian and intertwined, like obstructed intestines. Or pickled sideshow calf twins. In a Jar of Longing. Because aurora sparkles.

[I’m sorry the UBT appears to be malfunctioning. Let me whack it…]

But I didn’t count on the pitfalls of this type of relationship. 

I thought I had it all figured out. I didn’t expect to grow to need him. I didn’t expect to miss him when we weren’t together, I didn’t expect to become so attached to his children that they felt like family, and I definitely didn’t expect to fall in love.

Or for him to fall in love with me. What I thought could be something simple ended up being a stressor. We had to hide. Our time together was constantly cut short so his wife wouldn’t find out.

But it’s okay for the kids to know. The wife? Fuck her. Children LOVE to keep secrets like “Daddy Has a Girlfriend.” 

I was jealous and angry and crazily in love, and at times, so hurt I could barely stand. I hate being second in line, yet I was. He would tell me grand stories about how we’d be together full-time someday. He would leave her and be with me. A small part of me believed him, but the rest of me knew better. Yet still I stayed. We had such an intense connection that I was convinced living without him would be so much worse than enduring the agony of sharing my man.

My self-inflicted agony is the only agony that matters.

Like most everything else in my life, our relationship became punctuated by song lyrics I felt described our situation.

Sugarland, “Stay”: It’s too much pain to have to bear / to love a man you have to share.
The Wreckers, “Leave the Pieces”: You say you don’t wanna hurt me, don’t wanna see my tears / so why are you still standing here just watching me drown … You not making up your mind / is killing me and wasting time.
Nickel Creek, “I Should’ve Known Better”: Your love meant trouble from the day we met / you won every hand, I lost every bet.
Zac Brown Band, “Colder Weather”: And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay / She’s answered by the tail lights / Shining through the window pane.

Listening to them made me feel better.

Well, it’s doing bupkis for the Universal Bullshit Translator. Please, please don’t feed the UBT Nickel Creek.

I’m so glad you’re a sad song lyric and not a real person inflicting harm on innocent children and a trusting chump. The UBT is relieved to know you’re just a figment. An undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato…

Holy Marley’s Ghost! Please tell me you’re just click bait and are not REAL.

It reassured me someone went through the same things I did, that I wasn’t alone in my torture. But even through the music, I could feel things starting to fall apart. I began to obsess over his life with her. What were they doing? Where were they going? Was he having more fun with her than with me? What was so great about her anyway? Our love for each other stayed strong, but the relationship had collapsed. I knew what I had to do, as much as I tried to ignore it.

On an unseasonably warm March evening, I ended it. 

The chill had left the air and incoming Spring filled me with the power and motivation to do the hardest thing I knew I needed to do. My tears fell as fast as the first thunderstorm of the year.

“What are you saying?” he asked me. “I think I’m breaking up with you,” I said.

“Maybe you should think about it more,” he pressed. I told him, “I won’t come to any different conclusion. It’s over.”

And that was it. There was no pomp and circumstance. Just plain cold truth. We spoke sparingly over the next few days and it eventually faded to no communication. In silence, my world was ending. I gave up on love, on life. I stayed in bed all day and didn’t eat.

My world was ending fast like the first thunderstorm of Detroit. I gave up on muffins. There was no baton-twirling midget, no confetti-farting rhinoceroses, no candy. There was just rhubarb. And Silence. 

[Sorry. The UBT is really having a hard time with this one. WILL IT EVER END?]

My friends and family were stuck. They didn’t know what was going on; all they knew was my seemingly unnecessary depression. I trudged back and forth to work amid discussions of counseling, tentative hugs and attempts at forcing me to eat. In the end, I was still broken. The only thing worse than bearing that heavy a weight alone is carrying it yourself.

WTF? The only thing worse than carrying something alone is carrying it yourself? Do you read? Do you have a proofreader?

And then he called.


He wanted me to know his wife knew everything. That he loved me and couldn’t function without me. But he wasn’t ready. Could I wait, please. He needed me. He would be with me when his kids started school again. He would be with me in September. Yes, of course I would wait. He was my love.

I didn’t mean what I said about rhubarb. 

The next few months were a whirlwind of elation and doubt. We were together nearly every day, as together as a hidden relationship allows you to be. He talked of long-term dreams, about our future house and trips we would take and having kids eventually. My heart longed for it and wanted to trust him. My brain knew better.

I sat by, clinging to hope, and watched him as he bought new furniture with his wife. They got a new car.

I got waffles and extra crispy bacon. I’m the one he really loves.

He hired a landscaper and started repairs on his house. I became a Monday through Friday, nine to five girlfriend.

For those forty hours a week that his wife was working, he was mine.

Because she’s the breadwinner?! Because he’s available while HIS WIFE WORKS and you think YOU are the MODERN woman? But that chumpy wife, she’s just an obstacle to your happiness, what with her JOB and FAMILY and all. Boy, you got a gem there.

He loved me and worshipped me and spoke of our future. But September came and September passed. The sun and moon rose and fell. And I was still alone.

He told me we’d be together in September. So every first of September, I wait. I go to the same Greasy Spoon diner and I wait for him. For my love. And as the years go by, my hope does not wane. It naively stays strong. Maybe one day, after all the lost time, he will join me and my September will come.

I am the Lady of Shalott. His waffles are getting cold. I will wait.


This is a rerun. The UBT is still recovering.

Ask Chump Lady

Got a question for the Chump Lady? Or a submission for the Universal Bullshit Translator? Write to me at [email protected]. Read more about submission guidelines.
    • And I have to say I can see this being performed in some Smokey and vaguely pretensious poem open mike. There’s definitely a beret in there somewhere. The ballad of two stupid narcissists who never grew up and The Modern Wife who stood in their way.

      • Besides fancying herself a poor, tortured lover instead of a run-of-the-mill whore, she also seems to see herself as an author and poet. They really are delusional crack pots. And as always, needing to be the center of attention and seeking sympathy for her woes and all the unfairness life has dealt her.

        • This is not real love. Not at all.

          Allow me to speak from a faith-perspective for a moment. I understand that this might not resonate with everyone. Ironically, the OW quotes from the Biblical Song of Soloman, a Judeo-Christian text that uses the metaphor of sexual love between man and woman to be born in marriage to speak of another facet of the Creator’s love.

          Pure love comes from God, God is love. Anything else that poses as love is false, and possibly evil at play. If real love comes from God then it must be rooted in those things that are moral and good. An affair is not rooted in morality. A relationship that begins with lies, deception and betrayal simply cannot come from God (Thou shall not commit adultery; Thou shall not covet thy neighbour’s wife/spouse).

          God would never sanction a relationship that came from vows of marriage being broken in an affair. PERIOD!

          What this is is CHILDISH? Seeming adults who are stuck perpetually in some immature notion of love? They play at being adults and involve others in their act of pretend-adulting, when really they are toddlers following the fleck of dust dancing in the ray of sunlight beaming through the window. When a gust of wind comes, they flee. When real life gets hard, they escape to one another to seek mutual validation in their mediocrity, crying the blues that they are misunderstood, tormented, and undervalued by others.

          What does she really know of this man that she claims to love so desperately? She knows only what he has shared with her. She knows nothing of the family members who have known him his whole life, the wife that he’s been intimate with for years. Even when he leaves the wife, he will control access to information by avoiding family and friends who are likely to spill the truth, seek out Switzerland people, or find a whole new scene. He’ll likely start to cling to her people to reduce the risk of access to the truth. They’ll believe that their love must exist against the whole world, a theme that is so romantic in the history of literature.

          Real love is communal…it does not exist in a vacuum. It should not need to be secret, or bide its time, or manipulate circumstances or other people. Only that which is wrong or evil has to exist on such a level, underground, in darkness. It is insidious. It isolates the two people from having to be critical in their thoughts and accountable in their actions. The serious damage comes from their inability to note the observable harm their choices causes others – they are simply lacking an understanding that love involves others outside themselves.

          When you speak to people who have been successfully married for decades and ask them for their advice on marriage, you will not find a single one who will describe love as what is written in this letter above. For those of us chumps who now understand that mature love is better than ever, we would never tolerate dribble like this in our lives ever again.

          Alright, I’ve ranted.

          • “For those of us chumps who now understand that mature love is better than ever, we would never tolerate dribble like this in our lives ever again” <– This. Thank you.

          • Well said! This was very helpful this evening. Every single day I need to be reminded of who the winner is in this situation, and it’s me. Thank you.

    • That’s just too twisted. Great response CL. I would not have had the patience.

  • “I’m not narcissistic. I’m modern.”

    If there is one thing that makes me feel better about my chumpiness and committed to remaining firmly gray rock and NC on the road to Meh is once in a while checking out the Instagram of one of sparkledick’s flatterfucks.

    • My favorite line was “Apparently, you’re a slow learner”

      Ok, I was a slower learner than I would have liked too, but even I didn’t take three years to get out when I realized I was not as important to my ex as I should have been.

  • Ha ha – honestly this is so much drivel I could only bear to read half of it and normally CL’s comments are so funny you can deal with nauseating stuff to see what the UBT says but this it literally unbearable. Which in itself is funny without the UBT. I think this was a case of UBT not required. It’s just bullshit – fact. What weirdo wrote this. (Probably my ex’s OW come to think of it, after sittting together reading Sylvia Plath’s poetry).


    • There were some parts that caused even the UBT to splutter a bit. Bullshit overload.

  • I know about the OW that the X left me for. They had just met 3 weeks prior to that divorce filing. I know about the hookers for the preceding 2 months. But, I’m not sure if there was/were any other OWs until a couple of weeks ago.

    I had to have some unfortunate email correspondence with the X in which he accused me of prank calling him. I actually laughed out loud and wrote back, who else did you piss off? There was probably some ho-worker that bought his sad sausage story. Long ago, he told me that people would go to work early to have morning fuck sessions in their vehicles. He went to work early plenty of times.

    I’m so glad that I’m not him. He’s a piece of shit that will never learn.

    • I will never go in early without thinking of your post….God help me if I see a car jiggling!

      • The X has worked in factories or plants most of his adult life. It don’t know what it is about the culture but it breeds adultry. He was always telling stories of people hooking up in cars, in the plants, this married guy sleeping with half the women, married women sleeping with married men, you name it and it’s probably happened. It’s not reassuring.

  • good lawd how can I be this nauseated in the morning (and no, I am not pregnant lol). That was the schmaltziest pile of shit I have read in a long time (or maybe ever?). Guess I am past the age of super-sweet yearnings and love-gone-wrong songs.

    • You stole my comment!

      Obviously the writer learned nothing. She is the author of her own misery. Pathetic.

  • I read this and wonder about the pain of different endings.
    This ending leaves the affair partner alone and miserable (as she should be) but the wife is left with a cheater (which is horrific for the unknowing wife).
    I live the story where the affair partner is with the ex (they are supposedly blissfully happy) and the wife alone (dating at 61 isn’t easy).
    There are cases where the affair partner and cheater do go on to have strong relationships. Theirs is at least 12 years before DDay and 8 years since then. 20 years that I know of.
    Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have my own cheater-free life. I’m happy that I get to publicly speak my truth about the darkness I walked thru to get to my Tuesday. I’m happy I have the support and love of my adult children and all my friends.
    A piece of me does burn that they are together and happy and, because I bred with the ex and am now looking forward to my first grandchild, I will have to see him periodically.

    • You don’t know they are happy. Everyone thought my ex and I were happy too. Who knows how many faltterfucks he has that she doesn’t know about or puts up with and keeps quiet about so she doesn’t have to admit to the world just how badly she fucked up.

      • Oh, Rebecca. I wish I could hug you. I’m 59, and my cheater gave me HPV. Am I terrible to hope he gave it to the OW, too? At any rate, I feel, at this point, I would rather do fun things with my girlfriends and sisters without the pressure to perform sexual gymnastics, without the constant fear of judgement on my weight, or whether my hair is to his liking. For me, an intimate relationship with another man would run the risk of exposing him to what I have. Not willing to do it.

        What I have learned about HPV is that women can be tested for it….but men cannot.

        • I thought men could be? I might be wrong.

          I hope your HPV goes into remission. I had positive PAPS back in the early 20s from HPV. After a two cryoscopies, I no longer tested positive and haven’t for 27 years. At the time, the strain was tested but always came back undetermined. I got HPV from my first one-night stand at the age of 19.

          • I was told I had HPV a few years ago (probably post D day but pre-divorce). I was totally faithful so it can only have come from him. I don’t think I really understood what it was but since I’m on HRT (or was) I go to the gynae every 6 months anyway but you FUCKING BASTARD, I had no say in what crap you passed on to me. I have no idea where he got it, but I suspect Schmoopies no 1 and 2 might just be finding out. I can’t say I worry about it but then I don’t worry much about anything any more. I’m just glad my gynae caught it when he did. But like I say, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!

          • I had same story…outbreak from 1st boyfriend tho, treated then, no further trouble here either for 20+ yrs. Ivy, I am hoping for you to have have years of remission and robust good health.

    • So, I’ve known an older couple for about 10 years, and they’ve been married for about 20 years. She was a “friend” to his first wife (mother of his kids), but pursued him as an OW and broke up the marriage. I didn’t know any of this for a long time, but the whole story came out in drips and drabs as, “Their marriage was over for years,” and “life is messy and complex and sometimes love is a choice that is made for you.” I thought they were really happy when I first met them, but it became clear over the years that there were some profound problems. I won’t go into all the details, but let’s just say that when you have two narcs in a relationship, there are never enough kibbles to go around.

      Now, I see that both of them drink far more than happy people do. The wife’s tantrums have alienated all of the husband’s adult children, and he has gone years at a time without seeing his grandchildren because of the drama. When he started taking care of his ailing mother, the wife lost her mind at not being the center of his attention, and he treated her with passive aggressive contempt for months. What, at first glance, seems like a happy marriage with two nice people is actually a cluster of dysfunction. Narcissists gonna narc.

      I say all this just to let you know that you don’t see all of it. When they had to interact with the ex-wife, they were a picture of devotion to each other, beatific in their love. But it was a mask, and I don’t doubt for the moment that it’s the same in your situation.

      Huge Wednesday hugs your direction.

    • We know better than anyone else that “together” does not mean “strong” or “happy”….appearances as we tragically know all too well are deceiving.
      You need to do uncomfortable mental gymnastics to be in an affair, let alone ride off with your accomplice….no way you could pay me to be a fish in a blender! Give me a free and clear partner or give me On My Own.

      • So very true that together does not mean strong or happy. I was together with my cheater not feeling strong for a long time, which certainly didn’t translate into happiness. But, believing marriage to last a lifetime, I had a long vision for my life that allowed me to understand that there will be good times and bad times. I had hope that things were not so bad, until I learned there were as there would be when one is living a double life.

        He’ll stay with her because he had to find out if the grass was greener. Then, he’ll figure that her sparkle still outweighs the bad. Then, he’ll factor in that it’s better to stay than be alone, plus he’ll then have to factor in how to pay all the bills on his own.

        Unless she gets sick of him first. Mental gymnastics is tiring.

      • Velvet Hammer—Once again you sing the truth!!!!!

        I’m free of the cheater that was my X- thank God!

  • The other women is pathetic. It really takes a special kind of women to sneak around with a married man. This women in the story is a pile of steaming dog shit. She deserves to be alone and miserable, This is the same ending for my POS cousin. My STBX dumped her sorry ass. Now she runs around telling everyone that she wasted 5 years of her life. Awe, poor little Skankella. My STBX found out that the grass grows greener over the septic tank. Continues to call me and wants us to work on the marriage. What marriage???

    • CuzChump, Do NOT fall for this “work on the marriage” BS.

      After he got caught and divorce was in motion my ex kept writing to ask me “don’t you miss your little bug?”.

      But from the context of the rest of the garbage he wrote me, I knew he was just sorry about losing a wife-appliance and a source of income for retirement (mine will be FAR better than his) and of ego-kibbles.

      He never wrote ONE word of anything remotely resembling true repentance. Tracy has this script all figured out. Waste of our time and of our souls to listen to this, for one second even. Except if it is something useful for the UBT to make us laugh

      • July 2017. I first found out about the secret texts etc. January 2017. He filed for divorce and was served papers on my Birthday. He then stopped the divorce. I refiled and he is fighting it. He dumped skankella Sept of 2017. Just three days ago I got a text from her “I know that you have been spreading my phone number around. I am going to press charges. Remember one day Bitch we will meet.” Yup, she screws my husband and changes my life forever. And she threatens me. Classy lady isn’t she?

  • “For those forty hours a week that his wife was working, he was mine.” Well, she better keep working as I need her insurance to provide the Cialis necessary for this affair! No Cialis = no affair.

  • Pining after a shitty man, filled with self-pity and boredom, driven by shallow desires: this woman is about as “modern” as Emma Bovary. #1856AintModern #TwatWaffleHouse

    • “This woman is about as “modern” as Emma Bovary.”

      THANK YOU!

      Believe it or not, despite hearing countless references to the character over the years, I’ve never really knew much about the plot of Madame Bovary. After your comment I decided to rectify that. And having done so it’s like the last jigsaw piece fell into place or – dare I say it – the last knot of the skein was undone.

      Dear God, I married Emma Bovary.

      It’s all there. It’s so *her*. It feels simultaneously tragic and yet cleansing to discover this.

      I guess in these days of digital mass consumption, it’s true: how very modern the OW is. Flaubert’s commentary has more never been more relevant.

  • This dumb hoe willingly gets played and gets nothing for it. He’s not leaving his wife. He’d actually would have to work if he did leave ????. Let’s hope wifey dumped his lazy ain’t shit self.

  • A real tear jerker…… horribly sad.

    How about adding a new song to your collection? Twisted Sister’s “Burn in Hell”

  • The cognitive dissonance in this one is astounding.

    If the wife knows, why hide? It’s more romantic to not use your brain to think unhappy thoughts? No fucking whimsy? I’ll bet she’s >this close< to getting a floppy "Belgium waffle" (much lolz) tattooed on her chest.

  • I hereby hug the UBT. “Apparently, you’re a slow learner.” Hahahahaaaa!

  • She (relishing every inch of his face): “He’ll have a soft waffle, with a side of bacon — please make sure it’s CRIPSY.”

    He (caressing her thumbs): “And she’ll have the pancakes, hold the butter, a bowl of fruit, a side of bacon — and tell the cook to make sure it’s EXTRA CRISPY.”

    Waitress: “And I’ll have a labotomy, EXTRA EXTRA deep, and a large glass of Ipecac. Fuck the both of you.”

  • By nature, I’m not a violent or vindictive person. But whenever I read total drivel like this — a sob story from a self-absorbed, unaware, pathetic cheater — I want to sprinkle the inside of her panties with habanero pepper juice.

    • I actually feel sorry for women like this, the delusion is obviously strong and she has already wasted 3 years of her life (and maybe even more depending on when CL published this article first) waiting for a man who will never commit to her and who will never make her happy.

      I think that’s one of life’s greatest punishments, wasting your time on people who don’t deserve you. But she doesn’t seem to have the self-esteem or the self-awareness to climb out of this pit of misery.

  • If it weren’t for the kids, I would really wish that my ex ended up with her married OM — not that I wished anything bad on his wife. It’s just that the biggest satisfaction I could ever gain from this shit sandwich would be watching the both of those entitled losers destroy each others’ lives — from afar.

    • By the way, that letter made me gag. It was so ridiculous and self-serving that you’d think that it just had to be made up. But as we’ve all learned, these sociopathic people really exist and they really do believe themselves.

  • Scenes From A Disgusting Greasy Spoon
    (to the tune of Billy Joel’s “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant”)

    A waffle of rye, a waffle of wheat
    Perhaps some oatmeal — we’re indiscreet
    We’ll get a table near the john
    So we won’t be recognized
    You and I, con to con

    A waffle of wheat, a waffler of rye
    While we’re working on my alibi
    I just can’t wait to see you soon
    At our Disgusting Greasy Spoon

    Things aren’t very good these days
    The new job sucks, my world doesn’t get me
    I’m not satisfied, my dreams have all died,
    And my wife has gained weight

    So glad we did the deed
    Now let’s eat, with urgent speed
    Got to ditch you quickly now
    ‘fore my kid’s play date

    How I relish these days getting rooms at AmeriSuites
    Black latex boots, leather shackles
    And cum filled sheets
    Oh, put my cock in your mouth and
    don’t think about being cheats

    Oh shit! Fuck me!
    Go hide behind the broccoli!
    . . .

  • The first thing that came to my mind was “what kind of a monster eats pancakes without butter, FFS?”

    The only other thing I can add is that she’s obviously a special kind of stupid.


    • katiedidnt

      NO KIDDING! THE WHIPPED BUTTER EVEN! Bring me three please. Oh, skip the bacon. I want Virginia salt cured country ham.

      • Extra gluten, please. And a side order of oat bran with açaí berry kale syrup.

  • More immature, teenaged crap from these types about their special relationships.

    Awww, look at their precious secret rendezvous at the diner. Just look at how they’ve memorized their faces. They even know what to order for each other. ???????????? I bet he’d even show up at her house just after bedtime and start throwing pebbles at her window to get her attention and climb the gutter on the side of the house to sneak in her window.

    Almost every post leads me back to my usual:


    • Their minds are still in high school, reminds me of the day ex revealed to me, with a pathetic look on his face, that I no longer gave him butterflies…, we had been married 20 years, together 25.
      At first I thought he was joking but he wasn’t.
      After 20 years of marriage, children, bills, housework, “butterflies” was the last thing on my mind.

      Adorable, sneaking around in diners, thumb wrestling, gazing into each others eyes, frolicking in cheap hotels or the back seat of cars, studying each others anatomy, I can’t think of anything more romantic.

      • I was briefly on an internet web site after the Twat left. I had a BLAST and I was 51! But I looked at all the drivel these people were writing so wrote a profile that included “fat, 50 and menopausal, couldn’t give a shit about your car or your pay cheque and if you really want to know what I like in bed it’s complete control of the TV remote and a cheese sandwich.” I got so many replies from very nice men saying “thank God – someone who isn’t romantic, sensual and loving long walks on the beach”. Ha. Romeo and Juliet be damned!

        • Attie, I love what you wrote on your dating profile. Original and funny!

        • I am SO stealing this if by some miracle
          I ever trust a man ever again….????

      • High school is right!

        Brit, I got the same thing. Followed by: “If only a felt a spark for you.”. I said, “Spark? We were on a trip to scatter my mother’s cremains!” It was unbelievable. I wonder if he feels a spark for the now pregnant wifetress as he approaches his 47th birthday with an impending delivery from the stork.

  • My ex’s ow, asked me to feel sorry for her, how entitled is that. She would put that much makeup on, she looked like a clown. My ex said I choose you, fuck off, go to your ow, she used to tell terrible lies always trying to get you to feel sorry for her.

    • It was my ex trying to get me to feel sorry for his Schmoopie. “she cares about me and I hurt her really badly”. I cared about him for 25+ years and he hurt me really badly. Where’s the sympathy for me eh? What a clueless insensitive asshole. She’s got him now and I hope it hurts like hell for the both of them.

      • OH, CR, that was mine, too. SO concerned about the OW’s pain, never mind me curled up in a fetal position.

        • They USE these OW/OM…they are USERS
          Those folks don’t get it either, they are getting USED
          They lie and say whatever they need to get into their pants when they get a chance
          Meanwhile USING us to do everything else

      • A few nights ago, I had the following conversation with my ex.
        Him: “I don’t even know if (OW) and I are still friends. I haven’t talked to her in two days, poor woman.”
        Me: “Poor woman?!”
        Him: “Yeah, she feels really bad about all this.”
        Me: “She SHOULD! Not only did you two fuck up your own lives, you fucked up your daughter’s life, my life and even your parents are upset!”
        Yes, we all must pity the AP, never mind us chumps were blind-sided in all this and have to pick up our own pieces. Effin A!

      • I actually did feel sorry for Fucktard X’s Schmoopie. She wanted my life. She got it. She was so miserable that her family staged an Intervention, packed her up and rescued her.

        Then the dirtbag decided I was his one true love. Nope. No tagbacks.

  • Hilarious

    Yet to see how they delude themselves reminds me of how I spackled.

    Glad for no contact and brutal truth.

    The classic lovebombing devalue discard hoover.

    Still glad I can laugh.

  • I think she’s on this website, if you are, ill show you my middle finger, she expect you to feel sorry for her, expect alot of volin playing.

  • Look at the author’s other posts on the “Your Tango” site and you’ll see what a very special kind of fucked up she is.

    In one, she bemoans the fact that she revealed her bisexuality to her husband, because it turns him on too and he won’t pay enough attention to her for HER, even though she wants to act on her urges once in a while, so it was probably mistake to be truthful about who she is, because she doesn’t want the marriage to end (or some such head-blender garbage).

    In another, she talks about how her two fetishes are ruining her love life . . .

    “Cuckqueaning is more commonly known as ‘reverse cuckolding,’ and is basically a situation where a woman gets turned on by having a man cheat on her. So, right off the bat, I get insanely turned on by dating guys who cheat on me, and yes, I experience serious emotional pain as a result.

    Hybristophilia is a fetish that is all about being sexually attracted to people who commit horrible crimes, or show an incredibly high level of cruelty. This fetish has led me to dating an abnormally high number of sociopaths, some of which are currently in jail for very serious crimes.”

    I mean, come on — this woman is either making this shit up as she goes along, or there’s a seriously dangerous person out there.

    • There’s probably a drop of truth somewhere in that drivel. Sounds like she’s looking for attention.

    • So this woman is married too and has other posts that have nothing to do with her pining for her married lover? I am starting to think that all of this really is made up. Just a want to be author turning out click bait. Now I feel foolish for reacting to a made up piece of drivel.

      • Don’t feel foolish! Truth or not, this has happened. Maybe not the greasy spoon or maybe it didn’t start out as a woman looking for the horizontal mambo and found love instead. The surroundings may be different but the situation, unfortunately, is the same and has unfolded over decades – the past, the present, and into the future. As we know, there are APs out there just waiting for the Cheaters to find them. And there are Cheaters looking for APs who are just as shitty in character. May they be happy with their bowl of Raisin Bran and glass of prune juice.

      • I would have thought it made up too, until I had the ‘privilege’ of reading what Fucktard’s OWhore wrote. HUNDREDS and HUNDREDS of pages of mawkish, slobbery, over-the-top purple-est of purple prose. AND she thought she was a literary JEEEENyuss, BESTest writer in the universe!!!!!! (she used LOTS of exclamation points.)


        from one about having breakfast with her parents:
        “And I’m sure you’d have enjoyed the rose on the table. Sweet and young and pink, just opening its first petals to greet bravely the world.”

        from shortly after their first fuck:
        “Spare moments are spent remembering times when we’ve been together. I’ll pull out an incident and relive it and cherish it in all it’s rich nuance over and again. Or I’ll paint new pictures, pictures of joys yet untasted with you.”

        from the same letter:
        “Fucktard,, I . . . value . . . how beautiful you are. I mean externally beautiful. I love how I feel when my eye moves across the aesthetics of you. I value the lean, economical, lissome strength of you.”

        after he met her the day after DDay:
        “The vibrant, puissant Fucktard that I know, he wasn’t there. Instead there was a shell surrounding . . . surrounding nothing. Empty. A void. Hollow space. You weren’t there. Oh Fucktard what were they doing to you? What was happening to make you shrivel up inside like that? I found you, eventually. A small knot tucked in a dusty, dry nook in the hollowness inside the shell of you. And once you’d let me find that, I tried to be still and just share space with the shriveled kernel that used to be you. And . . . you responded. Slowly, at first, the edges softened a little. Then, it was a bit like . . . dropping a shriveled sponge in water. The edges softened, then the ‘you’ inside the shell twisted and stretched and grew…”

        I have actually sent some of her writing to the Bulwer-Lytton contest, it’s so over-the-top vomitrocious.

          • That’s a woman who needs a grammar book AND a dictionary, with instructions on how to use both.

            She tried so hard to sound sophisticated by using 3-syllable words. She missed.

            Remember the movie The Princess Bride? “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

        • This is the most ridiculous shit dialog I’ve EVER read in my ENTIRE life.


        • Sometimes I think I should seriously publish a book with a title like “Letters from the Other Woman”, but I’m certain no publisher would believe they were actually written seriously -not as a a joke- by a real human being.

        • OMG – She sees herself as your cheater’s saviour? That life with you and whoever “they” are results in him shriveling into nothing? But, she’ll come in to save the say. Bring him back to life in a warm bath and rub him down in essential oils (oops…projecting some of the crap my OW wrote to my cheater).

          I wonder how many OW fancy themselves princesses in shining armour saving the prince from the clutches of their evil queens?

        • Goof Lord! That woman . Does she realize she is writing this stuff about someone married to another person? It took me a second to realize that she wasn’t calling him “fucktard” – initially, I was confused and thought she was calling him Fucktard as a term of endearment!

      • I’m thinking there’s a 75% chance it’s all made up. I know there are people out there that are certainly capable of this nonsense, but if she’s really living this kind of life, I would imagine it would be hard to keep one relationship for any length of time — let alone multiple ones. And then be granted space on a website to talk about it without any of your friends or family knowing.

    • I think she (or he) is just a hack writer blogging “articles” now that I looked at the list of this particular contributor’s entries. I mean, if she really loves being cheated on, why would the fact that he won’t leave his wife bother her in the slightest? Wouldn’t that be a ginormous turn-on for her?

      If she’s real (also possible in this ever-increasingly-fucked-up world). Just ewwww.

  • There is always evident in the behaviour of cheaters a patent lack of maturity. It is really quite a falling attribute in adults. They wreak havoc and are basically earth demons. No amount of love can fix it.

  • I have to say, that was a classic of the UBT. I had to stifle laughs several times (yes, I’m reading this at work). Sometimes it’s good to have a chuckle at how ridiculously pretentious and self-absorbed cheaters & AP’s are.

  • It sounds like she suffers many of the things I suffered. “what are they doing together?” “what is so special about her?” “why am I being put second?” She is also being manipulated and feeling the pain of limbo. The difference is, she had agency. She knew she was getting involved with someone who wasn’t available. She walked smugly into it thinking she wouldn’t get hurt and without a care in the world for who else might get hurt. As for me and all of the other chumps out there, we didn’t ask for any of this. I had my pain thrust upon me against my will and through no fault of my own. I thought I had a loving partner I could trust and rely on and I had no reason to believe otherwise until I found out about Schmoopie. I was put in the difficult position of having to assess my value to my husband and my own sense of self worth and make painful decisions as a result of other people’s actions, not as a result of my own stupidity. This woman asked for her pain. She lost her right to not get hurt the moment she decided that fucking somebody else’s husband was an ok thing to do. I am glad Karma is bringing her down. It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving soul. I hope someday it brings down all cheaters and their Schmoopies too. Meanwhile I hope the wife in this story wises up, hires a lawyer and takes Mr. Sparkleturd for all she can get. Then the mistress can support his sorry entitled ass.

  • I am always amazed at the level of delusion in these things. The super high drama and star-crossed “romance” these people attach to their tawdry diner meetings and cheap motels is hilarious at some level. I mean, the fact that a clear-headed human sees two sloping foreheaded neanderthals humping in the front seat of a Honda in the Wal-mart parking lot at 6:30 A.M.; but, they see themselves as Tristan and Isolde or Romeo and Juliet is astounding. Let me help you out whore: There is no kingdom at stake, the machinations of odious villains are not keeping you apart. You are nothing but an easy piece of strange. He could be with you if he wanted to–but he doesn’t want to. The “love of your life” simply doesn’t think you are worth it, and the only way you’d be together is if his hard working wife threw him out and this slacking-got-nowhere-to be-in-the-middle-of-the-day sack of pustulent shit needed a place to sleep. He’d have you then–because a parasite needs a host. He isn’t a twu luv. He’s a case of scabies.

  • The original article was torture to read. Please, that was all made up. No one could possibly be so stupid and self absorbed. But maybe that was the point. At any rate I killed some brain cells reading that shit.

  • So sad, so tragical… yes, she was one of the passenger’s on the sinking sheep, with no swimming abilities… poor ho….wait, no…. the WIFE was at home, working, raising kids -in – what supposed to be a monogamous relationship- unknowingly investing time and money in life with cheater…

    Miss cheating ho, decided on being with a married man, yet, we should feel sorry for her?

    “ I can’t have a cake and eat it too”

    Apparently, you can…. cheating husband enjoys that….

    UBT rocks!

  • Wow – what an idiot. That was pretty obvious with her bad taste in music….

  • After DDay#1 i stalked the AP on FB for way longer then i’d like to admit and she had so many posts of sad song lyrics, angry tirades and heart broken quotes. Looking back, how it didn’t make me realize that whatever they were doing must have been more then “just talking for 3 weeks on fb” is beyond me.

    Now i look at it as “who the f uck does she think she is?” she CHOSE to mess around with a married man and latch onto whatever idea of longevity they were apparently feeding each other. Ugh why they think they’re entitled to anything beyond shame is amazing.

    I read on here once that cheaters dont trade up they go down to their level and it’s so true, they deserved each other and the other women after her weren’t any better…

    side note, i was going through a sad day and decided to re-read old fb messages between me and the stbx yesterday and found texts all the way back from 2007 with myself asking who a certain women was and why he was texting her and hanging out with her so much. his response was to get pissed and then their followed 2 days of me texting him these long messages about how much i loved him and how i was so sorry i didn’t trust him and blah blah blah puke. seriously i was spackling before we were even engaged. I was begging him to love and respect me on our way to the alter.

    Why did i think that he was worth 14 years of my time i could have left then, and almost did but he re-proposed and love bombed me and i thought we were meant for each other. its hard to get to meh when i keep getting waves and waves of more ways he sucked and realizing that i played a huge part in allowing myself to abandon anything that even remotely looked like a boundary 🙁

    • I spackled before my ex and I were engaged too, so I understand why you did it. He actually TOLD ME (before our engagement) that he cheated on his first wife! I bought his sad sausage story.

      I wish I had run away MUCH sooner, but I was too busy playing Whack-A-Mole with the red flags.

      All is not lost, though. Yes, I gave him eight years of my life, but I have learned so much about how to spot a narcissist. I will never let someone use me the way I allowed him to.

    • 2timechump, when I was cleaning up my computer files I read some saved messages of X. There were similar occurences of him making me jealous but me ending up begging him to love me even more. Yes it was puke-worthy in hindsight. I accept that I was not that mature and had no previous experience of a healthy relationship to guide me. But I think we need to be gentle to our past selves and be more forgiving. We were working with what we have. The most important thing is, we were not the ones who cheated. We fought fair and square. And that in itself is something to be proud of. CL often mentions that we can reframe how we look at the past in a way that is kind. To heal, we must learn to forgive ourselves too.

      • So true, CeliA. I do think most of us went into that whole fairy tale and vows thing believing our relationships would never fail. I did not take my marriage for granted, knew what my challenges were (FOO issues are great lessons on what NOT to do), was honest about my hopes, dreams, and goals, supported husband’s, communicated day in and out, worked hard at raising our children, and created a beautiful home. Family was a priority and I lived with intentionality. In spite of this, what X chose was what blew up our life together. Like so many here, I just can’t believe I married the frog!

  • What is it about cheaters and breakfasts?

    I guess if you can’t take someone to dinner because oh my gosh! My spouse will find out!!!–well, then breakfast is okay. Especially if it’s someplace that none of your friends go to and that your spouse avoids.

    Yeah, maybe you have to make the quick exit through separate doors if it turns out that your brother-in-law happens to come in for a quick cup of coffee and a couple of hash browns to go. It’s a shame that you can’t even grab that food in a to-go box, but the risk would be too great.

    Anyway, bacon never stays crispy in a to-go box.

    Gotta love that bacon!

    I’m pretty sure that’s a metaphor.

    • Cause all the decent people are at work or taking care of kids. And breakfast is the cheapest meal you can get.

  • I couldn’t get past the music selection. That would have been an avoidance pheromone. It made me want an order of WaffleHouse hash browns scattered, smothered, topped with chili.

    Poor little girl,… It’s a Long Way Down…

  • The valiant UBT fought off what was rising in its gorge a lot longer than I did. I nearly lost it when I read the “I am my beloved’s…” line. From the Song of Solomon. Chapter 6, verse 3, to be exact. This shameless, narcissistic, self-pitying bag of perfidies uses a verse from THE BIBLE to make her love affair sound honorable. (Retches.)

    And then “… our lives so intertwined we were hard to tell apart..” What the effing hell?!!

    • Oh no is it really from Song of Solomon. This was read out at my dad’s funeral, my partner (then) said it nearly made him cry is was so beautiful. Week later he ceremoniously told me he was moving out and our relationship (15 ish years) with child was an ‘unpleasant experience’. Took me about 4 weeks to work out he’d been seeing someone else for about a year and a half of course. Now I know why he found it so moving and felt the need to say – he was in twue wuv.

      Twisted sack of shit. The whole thing through the UBT today is literally the biggest crock of shite I’ve ever read.

    • We opened out wedding by reciting memorized passages from Song of Solomon out loud to each other. Sigh. We also memorized our vows rather than just repeating them. I thought he would remember them better that way. It didn’t take him long to forget his lines after the ceremony. Evidently he couldn’t even remember the gist years later when he broke his vows. I still remember the exact vows I said.

  • Man, is this annoying.

    My ketubah (Jewish wedding document, usually done artistically, framed, and hung in the bedroom) features this quote from Song of Songs: “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine”, in the original Aramaic, with beautiful calligraphy. It’s a very popular quote for ketubot (plural of ketubah).

    And now this skank cheater is stealing biblical verse to describe her amoral love for another woman’s husband. Makes my skin crawl.

    Hugs. Strength. Peace.

    • Yeah. One of the readings done at my wedding was from the Song of Solomon.

      Our priest spoke that the theme that struck him most through our marriage preparation and ceremony planning was our emphasis on love and family.

      Ironically, my STBXH now claims that he realized now that he never loved me. Simply married me because he would be a fool to let go of a woman like me who checked all the boxes. Then, after living married with me, he shortly realized that it’s a lot of work being married to a strong, capable woman with expectations.

      Why live with strong and capable when you can have waffles and toast perfectly ordered for you by a woman who tolerates you coming and going as you please and has no self-esteem to expect more for herself?

  • OMG. Chump Lady. I’ve got to send you one of the emails I’ve printed from my STBXH secret account between him and the OW. Complete vomitous love-bombing extraoridinaire.

    In one email, he lets her know about a particular casefile that has crossed his desk. Keep in mind that my husband works for Revenue Canada (the Canadian IRS). He is basically a collections officer for corporate accounts.

    The OW is New Agey, consults psychics regularly and always speaks of the cosmos and what’s written in the stars. One email proves that my hubby sent her a hoodie ordered from the “NY Cosmos,” New York’s professional soccer team.

    So, in this particular email, he let’s her know that a business in arrears of taxes, called “Cosmos” Imporium (I’ve changed the rest of the business’ name to protect its identity), has just come to him. Then he goes on to write, and I quote:

    “ok Cosmos, I get it, I was stupid not to reach for happiness when it was right in front of me. I’m working on fixing my terrible mistake.”

    (He left our family shortly after this after I did the most horrible pick-me dance for nine months to try to save our marriage.)

    Really? You work for the government’s tax collection agency and you think that this case coming across your desk is a sign to pursue this relationship?

    Let’s say for a moment that life is all written in the cosmos (I guess his belief in God is out the window too), how do you figure that this is a sign telling you it’s a good idea to leave your family to be with this woman? It’s a delinquent business. It hasn’t paid its taxes. It’s broken the law. It’s a mismanaged organization. You’re the one responsible for collecting the debt, bringing on the wrath of the law on them.


    I don’t know, but I’m thinking the cosmos was speaking a different truth.

    BTW buddy…you can get fired for sharing the name and details of this business with someone outside your job.

    • Like cheaters’ favorite game of Word Salad, they can spin just about anything to fit their narrative and world view.

  • “Because she’s the breadwinner?! Because he’s available while HIS WIFE WORKS and you think YOU are the MODERN woman? But that chumpy wife, she’s just an obstacle to your happiness, what with her JOB and FAMILY and all. Boy, you got a gem there.”

    But wait – how is it that Sparkles here is available 40 hours a week herself? Who is supporting Sparkles?

    I so hope they get together, just so Sparkles can go work 40+ hours/week while he “communes with nature” and complains about how lonely he is while she works.


    Oh wait, the OW is MARRIED? Oh yes, please, let these two leave their spouses and become As One. PLEASE.

    • This^^^ took me a while to ask this too. Two out of touch with reality waistrels who have no responsibilities, mope and moon over ea h other and the barriers to their happiness that come in the form of their spouses, who also happen to be the ones pulling all the emotional financial and practical weight in the relationship. Heaven forbid this woman has children.

  • Oh, there is a serious part of me that would love to be a fly on the wall if my cheater and his OW actually started living together. You know, a REAL life, as opposed to a rarified one financed by other people. Have fun with his delayed ejaculation, and delusion that 4-5 hours of sex every day is “reasonable”. Have fun with the fact that you do all the work, and HE attempts to take the credit. Oh, and actually get a job? That is, apparently, for people WAY less splendid than him.

    Oh, and I’m sure he will never cheat on YOU.

    • Ivyleaguechump

      Right? Oh I’m sure they will feed on love and sexual excitement, while fairies will be washing their dirty socks, vacuuming the rugs and paying for the lavish dinners… ????????????

      What still puzzles me is this: I had a skewed view of life as a child and even in high school ( since parents were taking care of all my worries, provided comfortable life and expected little bit of engagement on my side) but it ended the moment I left for college.
      I moved to different country, had to support myself from the first day.

      Those cheating idiots have a brain of a 15 year old brats- entitled, spoiled and unappreciative….

      Meh is needed for all of us…

  • This is insane.

    The author is “Alex Alexander” and she has submitted close to 300 articles to YourTango. Her husband, “James”, is a chump who returned to her and APOLOGIZED to her for ‘making her’ have an affair.

    I wonder how long before he shows up here.

  • Hey! I know someone who was born in Ouagadougou.

    But she & her family are all unrepentant cheaters. So much so that all and sundry thought her sister was a lesbian, since she never, ever appeared to have any attachments to men, and was kind of shy about sharing. Turns out she was a long time OW. Yeah. Started with the dad.

    The take away: “Her mother just went dead inside.” Yet, she’s friends with my cheater ex and dropped me like the proverbial hot potato. Go figure. I’ve decided that cheating is its own culture.

  • Also, comment on the letter’s shit writing: “unnecessary depression”. Um, is there such a thing as a necessary one? An actual depression, as opposed to, grief, sadness, unhappiness, whatever.

    Get a dictionary.

  • This is most ridiculous thing I have ever read in my life. There are no words for the stupidity…????????????????

  • This could very well have been written by Douchebag’s OW. I find out 3 years later that they were going out to breakfast and lunch, meeting during the day while he was unemployed and I was working full-time and doing the child-raising because he was “busy looking for a job.” I have seen some of the e-mails between them and yes they are this high-schoolish. Bravo Chump Lady, this UBT is truly hysterical.

  • OMFG. Can this possibly be for real? These twat faces are sooooo delusional. My cheater XH would take his wedding ring off and stash it in his ash tray in his truck before going in to work where the howorker was. You know, because if your wedding ring is in the ash tray, you aren’t really married anymore. I also read an exchange of emails between them where I almost busted them mashing it up behind his office. Skankhoe ran and hid behind a beer truck and they laughed about how if I caught them, cheaterpants would tell me that he was ‘thirsty.’ Lol….aren’t they cute and funny?

    On another note I have a ‘friend’ from grade school who is in love with her married old boyfriend from high school. She knows exactly how I feel about this shit so we don’t talk about it. But she has foolishly wasted the past 15 years of her life waiting for her ‘soul mate’ to leave his wife and come to her. Gawd, the bullshit stories he tells her would knock a smart person’s socks off. Talk about a cake eater. I’ve tried talking sense into her but she refuses to listen. They were meant to be !! They are soul mates !! What a bunch of happy horse shit. Cheaters deserve every single crappy thing that happens to them.

  • it’s like the OWs whole identity is bound up in this man. wow. that’s not love, and I don’t think the OW has a clue what love is like, or ever will. there’s such a contrast between the fantasy September she’s holding out for someone else to give her and the Tuesday that CL encourages chumps to find themselves. Tuesday will come.

    I actually feel a bit sad that the OW will live a whole life being that two dimensional and full of self pity.

  • My ex’s “means nothing” fling he had when we were in only 5 years into our marriage followed us throughout our 34 year marriage. At first, it consisted of her calling the house and hanging up if I answered. He denied it could have been her, but I always knew in my gut. Much later, after we moved out of state and the internet took over, she started attempting to contact him digitally. All through the years she’d never disappear completely. Even in our 29th year of marriage, she was still trying to lure him away through a private message left on a social media site he was involved in (band). Relentless.

    They aren’t together now that he’s finally “available”. I guess to him, she served her useful purpose. But she’s the poster child for situations this UBT illustrates. These woman are pathetic and don’t care about any carnage except their own. I don’t know (nor care anymore) about the role he played in keeping her in the wings, but I do sometimes find myself wondering which of us were the bigger chump.

  • WTF is this shit?! I couldn’t handle all that at once. God help me had it not been for the UBT. Surprised it didn’t explode – that letter? That’s that REAL bullshit. Geeeezus.

  • My cheaterdick and his co-whauthor think that they are writers too. Their messages to each other (seared into my poor numb brain on Dday 4 months ago) were pathetically poorly written and also full of their ludicrously grandiose and unrealistic plans for their fabulous future.
    Trust that they suck (and can’t fucking write for toffee).

  • Ring of Saturn frolicking in his trousers? LMAO!! Uranus gyrating does it for me!

  • This just reminded me of how my cheating ex-boyfriend would always reach for my hands for that ‘constant touch’ when we were having breakfast on weekends at, yep, local diners.

    And how other times he would make it a point to study my face, saying he loved the wrinkles and lines (I was in my early 40s) because they gave my face ‘charisma.’

    I never corrected him. He meant ‘character.’ But them again, he didn’t have character so maybe that’s why the word proved elusive to him.

    Then again, he didn’t have any charisma, either.

    • Did he have an explanation for why he cheated? Despite celebrating your charisma and such – why did he cheat would be a good question for him to answer. I think it is disingenuous to be affectionate like that and then go cheat. People don’t see that coming.

  • “After all this time, I still hope he leaves you.”

    Feel the sisterhood!

    “I was a secure, confident woman and was not willing to compromise my life for a relationship and everything that came with it.”

    “Like most modern women, I felt I only needed a man for one thing, and a coupled lifestyle was not that thing.”

    Well, that’s for certain as the author of this tripe was married herself. Enjoying all the perks that James’ job offered her and wanted more to boot.

    I hope she has a scorching case of herpes.

  • OH. MY. GAWD.

    You know this bitch thinks she is an amazing writer.

    CL, thanks once again for making coffee come out my nose. You are AMAZING.

    “He is a flaccid Belgian waffle.” Fuck, yes. This.

  • “So why did I do it? Why does anyone do it? At the start of it all, the perks of the situation swam happily in my mind. Imagine the freedom! Imagine the absence of committed responsibility!”

    It was just a DRIVE BY FRUITING!

    “Holy Marley’s Ghost! Please tell me you’re just click bait and are not REAL.”
    She’s Dick Bait, all right. The kind with malware, viruses, and a side of spam. With crispy bacon.

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