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Write Your Own Clickbait

You know what stands between you and a Cinematic Love Story For The Ages?

A boyfriend, Tracy? A bad profile? Good sense?

No.

Schlock.

The ability to describe your Schmoopie Love in florid cliches. Your chump reserve stands in the way of greatness.

But I have an abhorrence to mawkishness, Tracy.

I’m sorry. Then you’ll never be able to craft sentences like Ruby McConnell.

When we finally fell in love, it was over that potato table — in one look, held so long and so hard that it stopped a teenage boy who was passing through the kitchen in his tracks. To this day, I can’t remember what triggered that look — but I do remember the way Paul staggered, nearly dropping his cup of coffee, and the way I held my hand to my throat, which had blushed so deeply it practically burned to the touch.

Your Fun Friday Challenge is to channel your Harlequin romance writer and make your own Schmoopie clickbait.

Describe a moment, a burning touch, a Sophie’s choice (my Schmoopie or adulting?), a longing look…

Who knows, maybe you’ll get it published.

It’s Vomit Friday!

TGIF!

Ask Chump Lady

Got a question for the Chump Lady? Or a submission for the Universal Bullshit Translator? Write to me at info@chumplady.com. Read more about submission guidelines.
  • Not quite what you’re asking but for my first (and only) foray into internet dating (on Swissfriends believe it or not, but I was working in Switzerland), I wrote my profile as “Fat, 50 and menopausal. Not interested in your car or your wallet but if you really want to know what I like in bed it’s complete control of the TV remote and a cheese sandwich”. I had so much success with that and met some great guys – dated 2 of ’em! Worked for me!

    • I have no sympathy for Marie Osmond. She broke my heart in the 6th grade. I made good grades, always did what I was told, and was a Little Bit Country. I may not have been some hot shot NBA basketball player…..but I would have never cheated on her like he did.

      • But there was hoovering! She re-married the cheater 30 years later. Had half a dozen kids with another guy in between.

        That BEGS for a sappy click bait headline but sadly, I am not up to it this morning.

    • If I ever decide to put my toes into the dating pool, I might have to steal this adding. In bed, I like a good head or back rub, a warm mug of coffee, and my cats.

    • OMG Love this. You never would have gotten a response from the X in my life because he would NEVER give up control of the remote. Which, as you know, is a good thing for you!

  • To My Sole Mate,

    You have shown me what was missing in my life.
    A heart, a brain, and courage. All of these things and more, you have given me. Like herpes. Gifts that keep on giving.

  • It is so hard to know when that lightning bolt hit, there were so many ways that I fell in twu wuv with him. Maybe it was the way he tapped his spoon on top of his cereal to smoosh it down in to the milk; or was it the way he liked to pick the lint from his toes and flick it across the room? Could it be the way he could look in my eyes and tell me he was going to shoot pool but instead went to a local hotel to meet a Craigslist fuckbuddy? So much love, honesty, passion (for anyone but me)… how could I refuse his charms?

    TGIF Chump Nation!

  • I’m the writer in the family, so indulge me:

    She was only a sixth toe away from full blown white trash, so I figured why not? Diving into that shallow gene pool left me with a brain injury only soothed by her hygiene challenged blow jobs. And since it happened at work, I knew it was real. She was all I could think about when I scurried home and scrubbed myself raw with a loofah and rubbing alcohol. She was who I contacted via text while shitting every morning (shtexting? omg we have our own language!). All I had to do was type “hey” and I would get a blow job (blah job was how she actually did her work) later in the day. It was great because it meant I didn’t have to listen to her speak. When I droned on about what a good listener she was, it was the only truth I told.

  • Inspired by the OW in my own fuckin soap opera;

    “Then, after all those years of hectoring him to leave his awful wife, he did. And I realized oh shit, I don’t actually want him full time; he’s kind of a pain in the ass, actually.”

  • She had overcome so much, in her search for true happiness! A spouse! Children! They tried to hold her back, to hold her down! But she OVERCAME!!!!

    But could he do the same? Was he strong enough to escape the bonds of monogamy? The ties of children who expected so much of him?!? The bond created by a wife-appliance who, FOOL, thought his expressions of love were true? Could he do it?!? Or would he be defeated by … normality, conventionality….. ?????

    WOULD THEIR LOVE OVERCOME?!? Would she be able to show him that the path she had trodden in the past, the path of fucking strange and breaking up families, THAT was the path to true bliss and everlasting joy? Would she be able to lend him the strength to BREAK FREE?!?

    Coming soon to a screen near you; “The Grass Is Always Greener”.

  • Here is the story that I think my husband’s OW would be writing…

    Our eyes met past all of my barfly friends and I knew…at that moment, I had to have him. He introduced himself as “the king” and I knew immediately that I wanted to be his queen. I didn’t see a wedding ring so I pounced – quickly. Even with my flabby tits from breastfeeding the child I had when I was 17 and dropped out of high school and having just finished up with my own failed marriage…I knew…I just knew he was the one for me. I later asked whether he was married and he said yes – he was but because of his job, he lived away from home during the week in a shit hole apartment that I was hoping to one day make my home. Our home.

    And so it went – week after week with flirting and letting him know of my undying love for him. I knew he was married – it was a forbidden lust and yes, he repeatedly told me he’d never leave his wife and spoke fondly of her – of the new Cadillac he bought her, the Movado watch, their Florida condo and the constant travels to Europe and Egypt and all of the places that I’d never see and certainly not with him. But it didn’t matter because I was with him…when he felt like it and didn’t have anything better to do. And I was always there for my king – at his beck and call. Whoring myself out for some hot wings and beers was my life calling because I loved him with all of my alcohol soaked liver.

    And it came to be that I snagged that married man and for 5 blissful years we ate chicken parm together and slept in the same bed – with me leaving nary a trace of my existence in his apartment every day as I packed and unpacked my daily bag of clothes. We made passionate love whenever he wanted to, wherever he wanted to and I did whatever he wanted to do because I had nothing else in my life but to admire and take in the sheer essence of his greatness. I knew the minute that I saw his middle-aged fat beer belly and that inside-out navel from a hernia, that all of that would be mine – MINE I TELL YOU! Because I knew that my magic pussy would keep him here forever and ever and ever. No – I had no life, no morals or ethics and he had even less integrity – but we were meant to be together forever and I would convince him of that. And when my kid was hauled off to prison for the biggest heroin bust in the state’s history – even then, I knew that me and the king would forever be.

    Then came that fateful day…he was going home. HOME. Home to his wife who he swore he’d never leave. I was shocked. Gone were my days of happy infidelity with the man of my dreams who used me. I would never see that inside out belly button again or those stanky-ass gnarled bunion feet or hairy back I loved so much because…yes…he went back to his wife permanently. She didn’t find out about me until years later – totally by accident – and can you believe, she was UPSET?! I mean, really! I know my tale is a sad one but one that will forever burn in my heart like the sweet tingle of those hot wings he supplied so that I’d blow him. And now that I have 2 side teeth missing and am drinking myself into oblivion, posting pictures of my drunk ass on FB – I think back on the love of my life and of that inside out belly button rubbing against my ass cheeks with love and tenderness.

  • Sheesh—I don’t even have to write, all I have to do is dig up the files I copied from my ex’s computer to his lover, they are in French, so as to make them more romantic. Ohhhhh… even better, the ads he placed on Craigslist and the ad someone took out for HIM, specifically, because he was so awesome….

  • It wasn’t her, it was him. He was drowning. Again. It was a familiar feeling, and one that he knew, intellectually, should make him ashamed—but it just made him restless and impatient. “Why do people DO this to me?” he wondered, drowning. There was the fact that she had a job she loved and was good at—and why didn’t he? There was the fact that her mother had died a year ago, and she still wasn’t over it. (I mean, a full year—amirite?) Okay, she had inherited a beautiful disaster of a house that he had convinced her had so much potential as their future home. But—inconsiderately, tragically—getting it to that potential would require a lot of work. And that meant decisions (OMFG, decisions!) which she kept trying to drag him into. (I mean, WTF? If you agree to something now, how can you justify complaining about it later?) Not to mention the fact that she was struggling with stress and menopause and wasn’t the fun-loving, sexy creature he had “overlapped” with his previous girlfriend when, she too—inconsiderately, tragically—had been going through some kind of something. So now, like then, he found himself drowning. Who, he wondered bleakly, who would be his Cosmic Swim Fins now?

    And then, like the answer to his prayers, there was Monster Metal Schmoopie—his high school girlfriend! She had known him when he was one of the Golden Boys—when everyone believed he was on track to be an international footballer! She lived only a twenty-minute bus-ride away instead of on another continent! Her house wasn’t in need of renovations! She had a car, and was eager to drive him to far-away concerts and music festivals! She had just read 50 Shades of Gray, and had some…interesting ideas! And, best of all, her ex-husband sucked—truly sucked—unlike wonderful, wonderful him! She told him so—often—and she never, ever asked him which color tiles he preferred in the bathroom. This woman “got” him—like the others had, at first, but then—inconsiderately, tragically—had fallen short. It was like coming up for air! Literally. He could feel his Cosmic Swim Fins expanding with each compliment and cute nickname. He was no longer drowning! He was starting a new chapter! It was all going to be okay!

    • FYI: the first big, red flag I spackled over was finding out, well into our relationship, that his “ex-girlfriend” hadn’t actually been an ex when we started. I should have run then, but I didn’t. Something I will regret forever.

      • Yes, similar sparkle. Overlap is his MO. After I had lost respect for him and was shoring up my plan for a new life, it was sad and pathetic and funny to see him reaching out to people from his past…30 years ago! Basically anyone who had shown him a morsel of past contact he was contacting anew!

        Cosmic Swim Fins! Stellar!! (Pun intended). 🤣👍🏼

  • My ex, said, I loved you the most, then later spent time with prostitutes, crackhouses and addicts. He loved me that much he wanted to go to the crackhouse on Christmas day. I only realised this years later, on Christmas morning he received 28 phone calls from ow, he didn’t answer, later I realised it was her, she had skills I didn’t, addiction, dumping her kids, sti s, stalking, she wears that much makeup its a joke.
    I didn’t realise who she was once, and she was laughing at me. Years later I knew who she was, I thought what the hell were you laughing at.

  • We’d known each other for years, but I knew he was married and he couldn’t be mine. Though we met for lunches and exchanged phone calls and messages there was just no spark there at all. Then one fateful night, after his crazy wife drove him off, he walked into the bar where I usually picked up my Johns. I ran to him. We fell into close companionship, but feared his wife until a few months later when our eyes met over a Dos Equis at the local Mexican joint. As the mole sauce dripped down his sagging chin I knew I had seen into the depths of his shining soul. Soulmates. That is what we became in that moment. God himself ordained for our lives to be together.

  • We’d known each other for years, but I knew he was married and he couldn’t be mine. Though we met for lunches and exchanged phone calls and messages there was just no spark there at all. Then one fateful night, after his crazy wife drove him off, he walked into the bar where I usually picked up my Johns. I ran to him. We fell into close companionship, but feared his wife until a few months later when our eyes met over a Dos Equis at the local Mexican joint. As the mole sauce dripped down his sagging chin I knew I had seen into the depths of his shining soul. Soulmates. That is what we became in that moment. God himself ordained for our lives to be together.

  • As she looked around at her class, she noted him staring at her. He initiated conversation. He told her she was beautiful, hot and a MILF. It didn’t matter he was short and chubby. He was 26 and her 40. A few days later after exchanging text and pictures they went out. After a few drinks, she started feeling a burning desire for his young cock. There was no stopping after all she deserved to be happy!

    • DavidB,

      I spent years in academia. The cheaters are legion–and particularly gross if you ask me. Nowhere else is the cheating/abuse power dynamic so rampant and obvious on all sides. I always wondered how in the hell it even happened? I mean, how do you go from let’s discuss your use of MLA citation style to having sex? What in the hell does that conversation even look like? Crazy!

  • One look, and down the hole I fell- into a virtual cesspool of conflict. But the passion! The heat! It was like a burning match held close to an embedded tick. Made me convulse. Positively epileptical. If only this busboy-in-training knew how to run the automated potato peeler! Then we could spend our lives in this makeshift kitchen, trading looks across the ‘tater skins, dreaming redneck dreams of freedom – being free to marry even our cousins.

  • I grimaced as I left the port-o-pottie, the carnival burrito was a bad idea. On the closing of the door I locked eyes with a handsome stranger. He had the same distressed look I recognized, and the remnants of a burrito in his hand. I watched and waited for him to leave the small blue building that was rippling with explosive emotion. Upon the slamming of the door I rushed to him and asked if he needed any Imodium. People around us could smell the desire between us and actually stepped away. I knew I had found love like I had never known, his green tinted skin and watery eyes were a mirror image of my own. From that moment on we vowed to always be together and never eat carnival burritos again.

    And they lived happily ever after…

  • ‘Once I locked eyes on Shmoopsie’s big house in the best end of town, paid for courtesy of her dead husband’s huge insurance payout, I was deeply in love. Her political ties, allowing for lavish free meals and travel deepened my devotion to my lovely. The fact that she had cheated many times on her poor shmuck of a husband faded away in my memory. Maybe her deceased husband (my former best friend) had imagined it all. (Though I had helped him through her multiple betrayals). But hey! all that was just the past now. There was a luxury home to enjoy and expense accounts to plunder!.’

  • This would be my version of how this skank of a woman was viewed by my now former husband of 39 years:
    I know I have been waxing nostalgic lately, ever since my high school buddies garage band played the local skating rink. Although we are gray haired, balding, and one guy had a knee replacement, we think we still sound good. We even made $200 one night playing at a local bar. Not bad for practicing 3 times a month for 40 years and spending thousands on sound equipment and instruments. But I digress….back to how I met the whore of my dreams.
    I got bit by the roller skating bug again since it was my favorite past time in middle school . And it must to be skated to that classic rollerskating organ music….just forget the disco and rap crap these kids like to skate to now a days. I had gone to be free for the afternoon….I wasn’t looking for a blow job in the skating rink parking lot in my pick up. But there she was….in all her breathless beauty. Like a princess on roller skates. Her frizzy unkempt 80’s long hair blowing in the wind as she perfectly shuffle skated at immense speed around the rink. Darting here and there to avoid the novices and those pesky kids, who know nothing about skating. Her bell bottom jeans and that cute baggy tee shirt with the turtle cartoon on the front. Not bad for a 49 year old gal and me being 58….well, let me tell you….she is one hot chick on wheels. And when I found out that she was a member of the flea hop team a few years back…. that was it. The only thing I had to find out was, would she have ass sex with me. Well, ladies and gentlemen she is the perfect woman. The long hair, the big boobs, the NO kids, the shuffle skating and ass sex!!! I hit the mother-load . Now, to find a way to dump my loving wife,4 grown kids and 5 grandkids and I’m home free. I’ll be glad to get them off my back. Wanting me to attend Birthday parties and holidays together. The nerve. Who needs that shit when I can roller skate in the day and have blow jobs and ass sex at night. And the family business my wife and I built over the past 30 years. Who cares. I have ass sex now and forever.

      • I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Sadly, it’s all true. Not much embellishment there. He turned out to be the most covert narcissist you would ever want to meet. Even his own mother still can’t believe it after it’s been 5 years since 1st d day. I still send her holiday, birthday, and mother’s days cards. He married the roller skating whore last October. 2/4 grown kids, who all live close by, have never even met this woman. It’s unreal. So I figure, I’ll send my old former MIL cards in the hopes his new wife will see them because she always displays all her cards.
        You can’t even make this stuff up.
        I never thought I’d be able to laugh at this stuff but I do now. Took a lot of Chump Lady and research and tears and conversations with my 2 best friends but all you newbies and ones in the middle of the shit storm….it does get better. When one door closes, another one opens. Btw….I’ve dated and I’m starting to think the single life at 62 is pretty darn nice. Just not worth the gamble.

        • 42enough, I can relate, that’s probably why I laughed so hard at your ex being bit by the roller skating bug, his favorite past time in middle school. Classic roller rink music, and enjoying it. Then in a band with his friends since school all thinking they look good for their age.
          What luck! stumbling across the time traveled beauty..,
          42, I’m going to continue this post in a few minutes, my computer is stalling which means my post will disappear..

    • 42 – I think we were married to twins. “Not bad for practicing 3 times a month for 40 years and spending thousands on sound equipment and instruments. But I digress….back to how I met the whore of my dreams.” Playing the same 10 bars on his guitar over, and over, and over and … ad nauseum because he couldn’t remember the rest!

      • Omg. Yes!!! What the hell is that? I can’t even listen to any of those songs ever again. Took out 3 decades of certain songs for me. Too much of a trigger. And I have found so many new genres of music that he never could tolerate. Pfffff…..like he’s something special.

  • True story.

    I fantasized in secret for so long about you shaving my legs. When you said you would I was overcome with gratitude. There we were, outside in the Montana wilds, with me, swooning, while you ran the razor up my legs just as I’d dreamed you would. Afterwards, my legs smooth as silk, I stood facing the meadow, cupping my breasts in my hands, communing with them. I couldn’t help myself: “I want to live with you for the rest of my life!” I burst out.

    Narrator: my autogynephilic ex-husband, wrapped in the pink fog of feminizing.
    Wielder of razor and flabbergasted observer: me, pick-me dancing.

  • O Cara Mia, we had not spoken in more than 20 years, and then one night while I was perusing some porn my laptop did bloop out that fateful FaceBook IM that would change our lives 💕forever💕! I was so entranced by your opening ‘I don’t know if remember me….’ that I actually stopped mid-wank, and crafted a special just for you meme-filled response. The short clip from that 60s TV show you sent back 37 seconds later….I knew you were the One! My psycho ex used to complain about my endless FB IMing at the dinner table, in bed and get all suspicious and up in my business….not like you at all! And her poor thumb typing speed really limited our sexting option on WhatsApp….I still don’t know you type that fast using just your not dominant hand!

  • You complete me.

    Well you would if you were actually here, as you’re the other side of the Atlantic Ocean right now. But soon we will be together. In the meantime I’ll keep sending you money as I know it’s so difficult for you to find enough work to fit around your Cross-Fit obsession. Oh and I just bought you another pair of expensive sneakers. I’ll post ’em on.

    I believe your cousin when she says you’re not the womanising kind (I send her money too). All those young female facebook friends are just a natural consequence of the work you get in clubs. You’re so popular! And the photos that were posted of you bouncing those young children on your knees at one of your exes. How ridiculous that some people think those kids are yours!

    I’ll be flying over very soon to visit. Hopefully you won’t be so busy, like the last time, and we can spend some moments together, which almost never seems to happen. I can’t wait to ride in your brand new car! And I totally understand when you said that you couldn’t pull out of the deal when you realised you couldn’t afford the monthly payments. You can count on my support to take care of that.

    I’m counting down the days ’til I arrive. It’s sooo difficult being here and speaking so little with you. You never seem to be online and sometimes I have to call 20, 30, 40 or more times a days before you have the time to answer. I understand. You’re such a busy, hard-working man and I’m so proud of you.

    A bientôt, mon amour

    • Not sure that fitted the theme of the day; however it is incredulously the reality of her ‘relationship’ with OM. When I write it down like that I also think to myself “wow”, but I reckon it’s still got a few years to run…

        • Oh and there’s plenty more :0

          Early on in the affair, when I was still pitifully pick-me-dancing, she received emails from a woman who claimed to be his ex-GF while OM was supposedly with her, and this woman sent photos to prove it too. So she did what any sane person in an affair would do, she hired a P.I. to track him for a couple of days to get evidence, telling the P.I. that she suspected her ‘boyfriend’ of infidelity (the irony is wonderful!)

          Or how about when she claimed to me that she’d known OM and had a crush on him since childhood when he used to walk her home from school to protect her. It was established this was when she was about 12. I pointed out that OM is 8 years younger so that made him 4 at the time. Just got a blank, open-mouthed stare back…

          Still, only myself to blame, as when I got together with her I was warned by a friend “you do realise she’s the mad one of the family” — never a truer word spoken — now I must go do something about my picker (after reading some more of these great tales here)

  • Schmoopie’s story in one very long paragraph:

    I was cheated on by my husband who cavorted with his disgusting morally depraved mistress all over Europe for two years. It was a painful time in my life but I am a sweet and forgiving person so we reconciled (ok I am also a SAHM with five children and I didn’t have the guts to leave him and try and make it on my own). I didn’t really love him anymore, however, so I started looking for attention from other men. Then I met him, the man of my dreams. We met over the planning of a middle school event. He was so attentive to me and so sympathetic to my story. He was kind to me, he helped me fold laundry and he didn’t complain when I corrected his grammar. We fell deeply in love over a pair of clean socks (he knows the proper way to fold socks, how could I not fall for him). There was just one problem. He was married with children (oh, yeah, so was I, but my husband was an asshole so it didn’t count). Having been a betrayed wife, how could I be a party to infidelity? I resisted although it tore me apart. Here was the perfect man for me, and me his perfect woman, but fate is cruel sometimes. Then one day I corrected his grammar in a text. It was an instant turn on for him because I am the only woman in the world who has good enough grammar to actually do that. His wife had also had the audacity to wear a pair of pants with a stain that day after having been up all night comforting their severely depressed daughter and wasn’t paying attention to what she put on the next morning (such a turn off – I always prioritize my wardrobe and I am too busy seeking attention from other men to worry about the mental state of my children). She also can’t spell worth a darn and is obviously an inferior human being (engineers have no value in this world). We couldn’t resist each other a moment longer and we made mad passionate love wherever the heck we were at that moment. But oh, the guilt, his wife! I must resist. I broke up with him because I didn’t want to be a terrible person. I had met his wife. She was a wonderful person, beautiful and smart and she still loved him and was clueless about his infidelity. But oh, I lurved him and just couldn’t stay away. Then she went away on a two week vacation with their daughter while his sons were at camp. They left him all alone! The poor man (never mind that he had requested that the boys go to camp when his wife was off with their daughter so he wouldn’t have to single parent and she kindly set it up that way to give him a break). He needed me. We had two glorious weeks of love and intimacy unhindered except for my asshole husband who kept asking where I was going and who I was with and when are you going to give me a break from watching the children by myself all of the time. Then the worst happened. She came home and my asshole husband found out about our affair. He had the audacity to get angry. What a hypocrite. He told my love’s wife! Now suddenly he felt he was obligated to reconcile. He had the nerve to break it off with me. I cried “of course you need to reconcile dearest, she’s your wife and she loves you and you have children. Don’t worry about me just because my marriage is breaking up over our affair. I will be ok, just me and my five children and a STBX husband who doesn’t want to pay child support and alimony. Oh don’t worry about me, you go live your life and leave me to fend for myself with my five children”. I left him alone for a week. Then I called him and told him he had to come see me in person so I could break up with him because it was the right thing to do. I made him come see me so I could tell him he couldn’t see me anymore because the right thing to do was to reconcile with the wife he didn’t love because she isn’t nearly as good for him as me, but I am a good person so I made him come see me so I could tell him to go away and I pretended I meant it. I immediately went on a dating site and started dating other men. I couldn’t help texting him about my dates while we were no contact, however. Then I got a tearful text from him “I tried to tell my wife that she was like a needy child I had to do everything for and she rudely cut me off and jumped down my throat and accused me of behaving badly”. I felt so sorry for my poor love. How could his wife be so cruel? How could she not appreciate his greatness and everything he did for her when she never did anything for him? Except mother him. She is like a needy child who mother’s him. We know she mothers him because I pointed it out when he told me she used to pack his lunches for work and even added little notes. I said, “how horrible! That’s not something a loving wife would do, that is something a mother does for her children”. I am glad he now understands that as well. Anyway, I just had to go to him and comfort him. But then I broke it off again the next day because morals. He needs to reconcile. Except then I didn’t hear from him for a week. What? Is it possible that the love of my life is actually going to try and reconcile? Oh the pain, the hearbreak! He is going to try and reconcile with that frigid, unappreciateive, awful woman who doesn’t even let him fuck her up the butt? I couldn’t stand it any longer. I sent him an invite to go to a free movie in the park. He sent his regrets. What!?! How could he do that to me!? The one who cares!? How could he break my heart like that!? I went to his office the next day to put things to rights. He was so relieved to see me and told his wife that night he was moving out. Phew! For a minute there I was afraid he might actually try to reconcile. Things continued to be rocky for a bit. It took him another three months to move out and he kept showing snatches of affection for his wife despite her off and on rages every time she knew we were getting together while he was still living at home. I think he actually liked it when she got mad. Then finally he did move out and a couple of months later his horrible, clueless, interfering, fashion challenged wife finally asked for divorce. Hurrah! The last obstacle. I knew I had won when he used joint marital funds to buy me valentine’s flowers, dinner and a show. I got the valentine’s flowers that year and she had to pay for half of those flowers. #IWIN. We have been a couple ever since. He is the perfect man. HE does so much for me, well when he is around. He got a new job as a pilot for the airlines recently and he is rarely home. When he is home he keeps insisting on spending time with his horrible children who don’t appreciate him and don’t like me. I get maybe one day a week but that’s ok. It is all worth it for my perfect love story. I know I am the most important thing in his life because I let him fuck me any way he wants and I pretend to love it. As long as I keep doing that and watch what I wear and glam up for him I am sure he will never cheat on me when he isn’t around. I am starting to feel a bit lonely, however. Maybe I should take a look at that dating website and see if I have gotten any interesting hits lately…

    • These are all so funny.., sad that they’re based on true stories and that there are people who think like this and believe what they’re doing is justified.

      • Agreed. I am not good at writing the sappy stuff (my practical side makes it difficult for me to be creative in that way), but I am enjoying reading what others (or in some cases the APs) have come up with whether poking fun or actually thinking they are writing something meaningful (APs).

        • I used to pack lunches with notes. And I’d put loving notes while freezing batches of home made meals when I was going to be away. I cringe now.

  • Apologies for the length, but I decided to actually quote from OtherWhore, who believed (and believes?) she was the bestest writer in the whole, whole UNIVERSE!!!! (and she LOOOOVED exclamation points!!!!! The below is edited only for brevity.

    “I showed D the hand rub technique. I started by rubbing his arm just above the biceps. I rubbed down, noticing the muscle play under my fingers. I noticed the tensions, the relaxations, the moves and shifts under my fingers. I worked my way down through his forearms to his wrists. I let my thumbs play along his thenar eminence. When they were comfortably ensconced and able to care for themselves for a moment, I looked up into D’s face. He was looking at me. He was. . . he was stark naked, looking into my face.

    I got confused. I got embarrassed. My eyes moved back to my fingers as I went through the motions of the hand rub. I’d lost focus. Pushing my focus back onto his hand, his skin, the movement of his knuckles. I spent a moment then just holding the hand, working up my nerve before I pushed my eyes back up to his face.

    D wasn’t naked any more. He was . . . he was comforting, reassuring, relaxing to hang with. He told me about someone else getting touched in the context of a massage. The words he quoted were, “. . . I felt information leaving my body . . .”

    I was confused. I was trying to understand what had just happened. I was . . . I looked down and thought for a moment, and then I held his eyes as I voiced my confusion. “Never? But . . . If you’ve never felt something like that . . . How is it when you make love with your wife?

    The cover slipped away from D’s nakedness again. This time, what was there was raw, inflamed pain. It was beyond naked, the very skin was flayed from the being of his soul. He held my eyes for a moment. He dropped his face. His back, his core posture straight and proud and facing me, his neck, his head, his face, his eyes averted. Twisted in agony.

    Eventually, his posture sagged as he looked back up at me. He whispered the words . . . the word choked out past his lips, “We . . . “ There was more to the sentence than that. But his lips closed over them, choking them back. He shook his head once, a tiny gesture of negation. There was some verb than that pushing to get out. But the larynx squeezed it back in, against his will. There were tears there, around the edges of his eyes. There was pleading in his face and in his posture.

    I was so young, so naïve so . . . pre-competent six months ago. If I were the person then that I am now, if I’d known then the things D has taught me about listening, I’d have held him in silence at that moment. ”

    A small sample. I have reams of her writing (Yay Time Machine!) I’ve given serious thought to publishing some of her glurge as examples of how NOT to write well.

  • Newly Promoted Marine Corps Major has to leave his wife ASAP!!

    Newly promoted Major Cheaterpants leaves wife and two kids within a matter of hours. His head and brain had gotten so big from the kibble ego boost of promotions that it stopped thinking straight. Major Cheaterpants became so much better than his wife (obvi) because she had gained 10 pounds. Major Cheaterpants also just got his MBA which made his wife a total loser as she only took care of the house, kids and her career while he was deployed for months at a time and away at school “studying”. Sadly, at the ripe old age of 35, this is the second time Major Cheaterpants has had to abandon a much lesser-than wife appliance within weeks of a promotion.

  • Great reviews! I’m sorry you had to live through this but I hope at least your writing skills are appreciated.

  • For vomit-inducing romantic self-indlugence, you can’t do much better than 1982’s “I’ve Never Been To Me”: https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZrIqsFSjqso

    (a close second is Kathi Lee Giffords’ “Only The Pillow Knows”)

    But — in the spirit of weakening any power held by fuckwits by exposing their ridiculousness — I’ll give it a try, adding a stanza inspired by KK:

    Oh, I shed the shackles of stifling marriage to understand “the real me”
    I sucked the dicks of a dozen strangers and settled on RPD
    But I’ll be restless soon, and some afternoon I’ll decide I need to be wild
    I’ll promise paradise, but I’m just a selfish child

  • My life had been so disappointing. Divorced from a rich alcoholic. And Suddenly, there he was! Across from me at BJs as we shared a pizookie and caught up. He looked exactly as he did at my Prom, if you ignore the 25 pounds and receding hairline. He was married to a frigid, younger, thinner and smarter version of me who only had sex with him 5 times a week. Clearly the fact that he had a type meant I was the true first love and soul mate while she was a poor substitute. We followed up that spouse sanction dinner with several clandestine lunches, because lunches the frigid bitch didn’t know about are so much sweeter. Years later we are married and his pesky kids have aged out of child support so he is all mine.

      • Yes, it was bj’s brew house and grill- it’s a chain. Never occurred to me before- lol! They had reconnected on Fb and I was forever trying to be the “cool secure wife” and was ok with a dinner I wasn’t invited too. He came home and told me she was bat shit crazy with unresolved issues over her divorce. Guess they bonded over the trauma. I laugh now, but at the time, ugh.

  • I looked across the break table in the ER break room at this paramedic that had been giving me marriage advice. He so completely understood that my previous affair was just a mistake. Talking in a hushed voice so that my mother in law, the coordinator of emergency services here where we both work, would not hear us, I told him I was going to move on to a new job.

    He looked stricken, and soon he texted me to say that he would miss me too much. That he simply had to meet me in the parking lot at the grocery store to express his undying love for me. There, while our spouses (who each made more than either of us, sending us both into inferiority complexes – how dare they) were at work, we leaped into his Wrangler where we awkwardly consummated our soul mate love by me giving him a blow job. I even swallowed to make sure that he knew I was a naughty girl that would fulfill all of his fantasies (he didn’t bother telling me that his wife had done the same for him, just that morning, but I’m sure it’s because it slipped his mind).

    From then on, we made googlie eyes at one another at church, especially when we were picking up the children we decided to later abandon, from the daycare there. Our love was so all consuming that all the other mommies could see us swooning. Their gossip only further cemented our lust for one another, almost as much as when he introduced me to his wife in the pews one day. Sitting next to her, knowing I was fucking her husband, really sent a jolt through him and I both.

    We both divorced our meddlesome spouses and we could finally show the world our twu wuv! But alas, along came a new soul mate for me, strolling into the hospital. Our passion (and his bigger doctor’s paycheck) meant that I had to cast aside my dear paramedic. It was simply not to be….

    • Oh, cruel fate! Why did that rich doctor have to walk in and spoil such a tender twu wuv story. Funny how fate makes these people do crazy shit but never does that to us. Fate has clearly been ignoring us. No fair!

  • As I glanced across the room at the party, our eyes locked. Or, they would have locked, if he hadn’t been so drunk he couldn’t actually focus clearly. He spoke such sweet poetry, at least the parts I could understand with his slurred speech. His big round beer gut, his shiny bald head, his overgrown goatee that looked like a woman’s b*@$!, they called to me. Or, actually, it was him calling to me, using explicit references to my body. It was so wonderful hearing those words, especially when he drooled his beer while saying them.
    Even though I was married to a devoted man, I knew this had a chance to be “real.” I know he had special feelings for me, and only me, as well as the two other married friends of mine he texted after the party. I know what he had for me was unique, especially as he couldn’t get my name right. But what does that matter, when it’s “real?” It’s real love in that way that a marriage with 2 kids and a shared home cannot be, in a way that is only possible with special connections made while drunk in a friend’s basement.
    I know that he loved me, and only me, even as he continued to live with his ex-wife. He couldn’t move out, he said, as there just weren’t any other places to live available. Darn you, real estate market! Even after I sent him links to oodles of apartments that were clearly empty and move in ready, and he couldn’t find a way to move out, he still loved only me. He loved only me so much he continued suffering, living with living with his ex-wife — sorry, it turns out he lied, they were still married — in the same house. That evil witch! He couldn’t move out even when I left my own husband, and offered him a place at mine.
    I know our love is real, at least when I see him after work on some Tuesdays, and occasionally when his wife is out of town.

  • Oh how fickle and unfair life is for the most amazing man in the world. His married cubicle neighbor became his best friend at work, and since she understood all the challenges of his extremely unimpressive military life so much better than his no-longer-useful wife, he obviously needed to spend all his free time with her. Running was their shared pastime, even though he was perpetually fighting his weight gain, running was now HIS LIFE. His un-supportive wife who hated running was at home with their infant daughter, working through what was more than likely undiagnosed post-partum depression while also working part time from home, but she wouldn’t go running. So he had to find someone who loved running as much as he did right now.

    BUT ALAS, cruel fate interfered and the cubicle neighbor was transferred to a new base, so many unfair miles away. What was he to do? Find a new married best friend co-worker to share his passions with, of course. She wasn’t into running but she liked going out for drinks. Drinking was now HIS LIFE. His un-supportive wife, who was still at home with their infant daughter and working, didn’t want to go out to bars. How could a job, housework, and child rearing be more interesting and fun than the bars? IT WASN’T. He needed the freedom to ‘decompress’ after work, not be asked to mow the grass or change diapers or walk the dog.

    Then his fortunes appeared to change when the new best friend co-worker’s husband decided to divorce her. There was no way the work relationship had anything to do with that, and she NEEDED comforting and support. The un-supportive wife at home just didn’t understand, until she decided to go the way of the other chump husband and divorce him. HOW COULD SHE? All these consequences and demands, she must be punished throughout the divorce proceedings. His toddler daughter was a useful pawn, to be wielded against her own mother. He prevailed – except for the child support. And for the shared parenting time. And his ex-wife and daughter moving to another state. But HE PREVAILED. He and his shmoopie best friend are now ‘life partners’ with her children and his own for parts of the time, a happy little pretend family when it looks good.

    The horrible ex-wife is still the villian – she ignores him and has let her new life eclipse the one she had with him, the most amazing man in the world. And she is taking him back to court, to impose more consequences on him. Which will make a good sequel, for he, the underdog hero, will prevail again. Except for the new court order.

    • The new best friend’s co-worker’s husband? I need a scorecard for all these players. Sheesh, what an asshat. Oh, sorry. I meant the most amazing asshat in the world, obviously.

      Awesome story. Mine also made drinking, with schmoopie and with jerkoff bar buddies, his life, and considered me “controlling” because I didn’t want a drunk for a husband. They all suck the big enchilada.

  • apologes in advance as im not a good writer

    we may have seemed like a normal happy family on surface, but I was not, smoopsie saved from them all. my partner of 15 years made me suicidal, asking me to ‘grow up’, ‘pick up your shit thats been laying there 7 days’ or ‘i dont need a third child’. she treated me like rubbish and i hated her for it. she didnt have time to look after me or listen to me anymore since having the second baby and she was taking too long to recover from the birth. luckily my howorker was there to save me and show me was twu luv was. she would listen to me for hours every night and talk by txt to me all day. i could wait to start my new life with her and her daughter but wish my ex would stop getting in the way and try to control me by asking me to have the kids etc. she needs to get out of my house already!!

    • Chumpof2
      What a weak coward of a man. I applaud chumps who despite having young children leave the assholes. You are mighty and deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. You my friend get to live free from abuse. That is priceless.

  • Damn it. I had the torrid, booze-soaked twu wuv story of Adolph and Mistress Kitty Kunt, but the site crashed and I lost the epic tale of two inept, drunken humps and 50,000 heart and kissy face emoji texts. It’s just as well. I don’t want anybody to get sick to the stomach.

    Best line (he really said this the day after they first dunkfucked): “We can’t do that again. But we can still be GOOD FRIENDS.” This trite, insincere statement was followed by lunch and breaks together every day, until they quickly graduated to dinner dates, still pretending it wasn’t an affair. Then an orgy of drunkeness at a music festival and of course, another drunken hump. It was luuuurve by then, in his middle-school mind, because she quoted a Pink song to him that went; “You’re fucking special. You’re fucking perfect to me.” Barf. This is a 50 year old man, swooning over such adolescent piffle.
    Five years later, still cheating, he hypocritically lectured me on the secret of a good marriage; “Being GOOD FRIENDS.” Double barf. What a pompous, self-inflated jackoff. I hope they both fall down on their arses in a bonfire so they’ll feel like the flaming assholes they are.

  • I write for Harlequin, so I have to take issue with the bit about channeling your inner Harlequin romance writer. Cheating is completely off-limits for Harlequin writers, character always wins at the end, and insta-love always meets with insta-reversal. Plus, it’s a whole lot harder to put together 50,000-70,000 well-written, well-structured words than people think. My cheater’s Schmoopie did take a stab at it and text him paragraphs of supposedly sexy fantasies that begged for both Oxford commas and an editor (let’s just say she did NOT have a future as a Harlequin writer), which I promptly screen-captured as future fodder for our divorce. I did wonder briefly, as I subsequently pick-me danced, why he was reading her drivel when he could have had New York Times-bestselling sex scenes from moi, but then I discovered Chump Lady’s book and the light dawned on me. One of my favorite memories is from about five years prior to D Day, when he requested in all seriousness that I “not make him too recognizable in my books.” It had never even occurred to me to immortalize his drunken, bad-sex self in a romance novel because I get paid to write about heroes. He, apparently, thought he was such a Don Juan that all of my heroes would follow his script in bed (in which case MY editor would have been on my case for every single sex scene being both the same and less than two minutes long).

  • The Ultimatum

    Our eyes locked at the casino bar. By the third martini he poured his aching heart ❤️ out to me; a lost soul trapped in a 36 year marriage. He wore his wedding ring telling an unbeliever able storyline emotional abuse. I listened. I knew by the fourth he was my soulmate.

  • Yes his speech was slurred and yet there was this longing. Two ships passing out at a bar, together.
    Those moments were like the glue that held his heart ❤️ on his sleeve.

    He was married. I was a good Catholic. We danced, we missed.

    I told him he’d have to file for a divorce. He said he would. Together we went to his wife’s favorite restaurant. Then we drank some more, got a hotel, he was embarrassed by his small penis, and fumbled with his pump. I helped.

  • His wife warned me he was a cheater but I prevailed. She passed the torch. I had to be sure so I stalked and harassed her. Finally they divorced. I gave him unconditional ❤️ and allowed him to be free, give up his business, but cars, and give him my small paycheck. It’s love ❤️ like no other.

  • From an AP, whose soul I, RSW, cannot and never want to know (rough draft):
    I knew from the moment I met you (RSW’s husband) ten years ago that you would be mine. I could discern from your searing gaze that you thought I was the most beautiful creature that you had ever beheld. (I don’t believe for a minute that your rapture had anything to do with the hit of cocaine you had just had on our tour bus.) You confirmed your undying love for me in a series of emails and texts. Tragically, the fact that the tour was incredibly short, you had a wife (in name only), and I was bonking another jealous married man (not my first married AP) who was territorial, would have arm wrestled you for me if he knew about our volcanic chemistry, and did not want me to look at other men, prevented you and me from consummating our love. I waited for you, for what seemed like a never-ending eternity, whiling away my time bonking other married men but always thinking of you, longing for you, wondering how you could escape the clutches of that demanding, cold as a dead fish old wife of yours. Finally, the fated day arrived. I could no longer work as a psychotherapist as the Board had banned me from practicing as I got two DUIs. I was free to live my destiny, to pursue a career in entertainment (of married men). I finally got to tour with you again free from that Guantanamo, Hanoi Hotel hell I had lived through waiting to someday see you again. I could no long restrain myself from expressing my unbridled passion for you. I brusquely pulled down your Dickies. You pushed aside my thong. And we unleashed our fiery passion on the plastic mattress of a bunk in the tour bus. Spent, you fell asleep upon me, physically separated from me only by a puddle of sweat, but emotionally ensnared, I mean, entwined, with me only the way star-crossed lovers can be, snoring at 10 million decibels. I don’t know if any of our colleagues heard any of our rapturous sounds of love-making withheld too long, but I didn’t care. Let them be jealous. Haters will hate, pleading that they just want to get a decent’s night sleep so that they can safely run the show tomorrow. They just don’t know how grand and deep love can be—four inches to be exact. I asked you to impregnate me, a forty-something childless woman, with your love child, a request that you enthusiastically obliged. I then asked you to get a vasectomy as I decided not to have children with you as you inexplicably grew cold. (Now that your wife mentioned it, maybe your wife wanted more children, but no matter.) Ever loyal to me, you discreetly scheduled one so that your wife would not learn of your decision and looked at legal sites online to ensure that you could legally get one without informing you’re wife, you law-abiding, upstanding citizen you. Wanting to give to the next generation and your lovely poor children at home with your horrid wife, I gave your kindergarten and first grade children a book on the zen of martial arts as I am a martial arts master as well as a drunk, psychotherapist entertainer (of married men). Yeah, the wife might hold advanced degrees (be in a doctoral program) and have studied philosophy and martial arts for years, but she has nowhere close to the amount of wisdom I do and never will. Realizing that I was wrong to tear apart a bind of holy matrimony, I confessed all to your wife when I descended upon her and your children from out of nowhere at an arena, much the way vampires, cloaked in black capes, descend from the skies in vampire movies. I told her that she should fight for you. Oddly, she seemed uninterested. I will finish this draft later, after I get a bit more sober during the show…

  • He was a balding, late 30s stock boy with some kids and a wife. She was fresh out of the psych ward after having been caught cheating on her last boyfriend, sleeping on her mother’s couch and working part time. They met in the stock room, their eyes locking over a pallet of dog food. He was her knight in a retail smock, determines to save her from her unemployment and chronic alcoholism. After he refilled her windshield washer fluid one stormy afternoon, she rewarded him with kinky sex, her Hot Topic dog collar glinting in the harsh overhead lighting of her studio apartment that reeked of dog piss and cigarette smoke.

    But none of that mattered, for this was the truest of loves. The cold, unloving wife attempted to keep them apart, but he made sure to come over and declare his love and admiration after every marriage counseling session he lied through. Eventually, when the cold, unloving wife cruelly discarded him (though cold and unloving, she was good at mortgages and grocery shopping and etc) he ran back to his stock room lover. They now spend their days mooning at each other as they refill the shampoo aisle, their nights playing video games and pretending to parent the children who seem to show up every other weekend.

  • You can’t make this shit up…these are excerpts I’ve strung together from a disclosure letter he sent to me 15 months after the wedding. Said he was finally going to be honest!

    They were sitting at a table, she, the venue owner he met a few minutes ago, he, the husband of the bride’s aunt. Suddenly, overcome with a hard-on, he described to her how she reminded him soooo much of Emma Stone. The motions of her hands, the way she tilted her head, the slight lisp of certain words, uncanny that she was that similar. She even trumped the college-aged blonde girl with high heels and a micro miniskirt that threatened to show panties or more if none were worn. He realized right then and there that he deserved to be happy. It must be twu wuv! She gets me!

    Spoiler alert–the venue owner wanted nothing to do with him. He imploded at that time, an 18 year marriage over 20 minutes of fantasy combined with all else that came out subsequently.

  • I’ve been so disturbed by Ruby McConnell’s narrative (it was on the MSNBC homepage yesterday), that my click bait went directly on a review of her book on Amazon, entitled:

    “Ruby “nails” a Girl’s Guide to the Wild”

    Mend instead of replacing” & “How might you change the world in ten minutes a day?”

    Beautiful thoughts to empower the next generation of young women and ones I’ve endeavored to follow as a living example for my daughter. In a sea of bad behavior, social media pressure and the unrelenting culture of 24/7, books that provide a principled framework for life should be endorsed. This is not one of those books.

    The above quotes are just a few examples of what Ruby McConnell espouses. However, it directly contradicts her (im)moral stance, as outlined in her recently posted web article. She extolls the virtue of having an affair with a married man while being married herself, entitling the mini-bio “My Husband & I Left Our Spouses to be Together. Here’s What I’ve learned about Love”:
    https://www.huffpost.com/entry/leaving-marriage-for-new-partner_n_5ceff4a5e4b0888f89d274bb

    Additionally, she whines………chronicles the struggles of being a business women in a world where everything is stacked against you, all while taking the “high-road”:
    https://www.liisbeth.com/2019/05/31/taking-the-high-road-to-success/

    She also posts, for the entire world to see, what can best be described as a “strip-tease”:

    You are free to live your life as you see fit, but please don’t assume that your “wild & adventure-seeking” lifestyle is the best example for todays girls. It is not.

    • Apparently, my review is currently being “reviewed” (how very 1984).

      Let’s see if Amazon has the guts to publish the truth. I’ll keep CN posted.

    • She’s a moron and a cheap, narcissistic slag. Pure and simple. She got deservedly slaughtered on twitter for her stupid article, and is such a coward that she blocked anyone who was even mildly critical.

      • FYI–They didn’t print my review. I guess no surprise, but why did I think they would do the right thing? I will continue to tweak and re-try.

        It’s amazing they seem to be offended by her own words/posts. Why is everyone afraid of the power of truth? Words and actions have consequences.

  • Good, God these are the romances from hell. I have to say I’m forever grateful for dumping his cheating ass. WTF was an intelligent, kind independent, educated woman (that would be me) doing with a complete douche bag of a husband who led a double life.

    I promise you chumps, a few years out you’ll find your self and it’s bliss. When I see where doing the work landed me I’m happy to be free of the Limited asshole I thought I loved. He had nothing to offer. Embrace your freedom.

  • My Ex to the AP:

    “So I said to her, ‘Hey, Babe. How do you like me so far?’ She put her drink down, and replied, ‘People are interesting, aren’t they. Have you seen that guy at the burger joint? What a loser. Hey, wanna go? I just got paid.’

    “And that’s how I knew she was the one for me.”

  • Star crossed passion in a pressured workplace. Tru wuv – simmering emails, conference-bliss.
    (Howorker and then husband of decades, married with children.

    Spoiler-alert The path a tru wuv does not run smooth. After professional differences and blazing rows they crash and burn but undeterred he continues to seek cake and solace by complaining a lot about the colleague to chump. After chump finally wises up and walks. X wails “But I never would have never left you” UBT you still had some use wife appliance.

  • Lonely and single, would OW ever find love again after her second baby daddy has abandoned her?
    Could she snare herself the cheating manager who was sleeping his way through the sales department? Could her pussy pics sufficiently entice him away from the drudgery of life. It was worth a try.
    Could cheater snag this single room attendant and mother of two by two different men? How much burger King dates would he have to take her on? She was already providing him with visual stimulation while he shit holed up in the toilet. It could be worth crapping on his family to find out.
    Would cheater ever come off the toilet and participate in family life’ chump wonders? Maybe he had piles? Maybe he was too ashamed to talk about it. She’d talk to the doctor and see if she could get some help. Poor unsuspecting chump.

  • As soon as I saw her picture (some really nice tits there) I knew I was in love and she was about to feel the same way about me. I sent her the $2,000 she asked for as payment for the first month of my romance of a lifetime. As soon as she received my gift she realized I was the man of her dreams. I visited her four times that month and it was pure magic. Well, it was a bit awkward at first because I’m in my mid-50s and she is in her mid-20s and I don’t perform well with a condom. But, because we both knew it was true love we pressed on and discovered that her hand can be magical for me as well. The next month I sent her another gift of $2,000 and the magic continued. Well, actually there was a little hiccup. She felt that perhaps my gift didn’t truly show her the depth of my love and devotion so I had to add another $1,000. Our great love continued for more than four months. But, alas! As all great loves tend to do, ours came to a dramatic end. She felt there were no gifts valuable enough to continue seeing me. I truly felt her pain when she said not to contact her anymore. I know she is heartbroken and alone now. Just like me.

  • “People kill over things like this”, he spat as he hurried out the door, leaving his wife of 20 years and 2 kids in their newly renovated home. Leaving her alone to decipher the meaning of his words. She knew she wouldn’t waste her energy on killing such a self entitled, cheating, cowardly man-child. Does that mean he would kill her? Was it a veiled threat?
    He was good at acting, or lying as it’s more commonly known. His latest conquest understood him to be a single dad, alone with 2 children and only his mother for help. Sorry that he had to dash off to let his mum go home. No, not quite… More sorry that he had a wife and kids at home who expected him back 6 hours ago but he had a stock take to do, or a tonne of prep to complete for the next day as his colleagues were so incompetent and hadn’t managed it. Yes,probably because he was too busy fucking the little dirty commis-chef to get the pub lasagne mix just right.
    Not too busy though to hatch half arsed business plans with his tenant and other beau. He’ll ask his wife for a loan so they can set up their lovers cafe together. She’ll never know… I’ll just say your an employee…
    He tangled up so much he had to flee, abscond and abandon. Make out it was his plan all along to be with her, to tell his wife over the phone ,whilst dirty commis was there in the background, that he was sorry but he loved her. Make dirty commis feel loved. Not used. Leave his wife to tell tenant that her boyfriend and business partner was shagging behind her back. Leave the wife to pay off thousands of his loan. Leave his clothes. Leave his books. Leave his porn collection. Leave his children. Leave his shoes. Pack like he was going on holiday….

    • A holiday to her parents back garden and their caravan with a chemical toilet and no heating. Bliss,perfect bliss, for someone who couldn’t stand caravans and wouldn’t come on holiday with his wife and the kids so his mum came instead….
      (The MIL who is now taking the wife to court because she doesn’t see her grandkids enough, as babysitting is no longer required now that her son’s not off shagging about!)

      • This is all so terrible… honestly they are al disgusting but this one really stood out. You’re a sainr

      • No-way, oh the romance of the chemical toilet!!! We had a camper for 15 years and while I loved the camper the chemical toilet was what really sealed the deal!

  • From a test, page and a half single spaced when pulled off of the phone, to a gal pal of his paramour as he triangulated the hell out of the poor gal when the paramour told him to fuck off and that he stank, literally, body stench:

    “I knew I was in love with “Bobbi with an i” when I got up at 4am to go to the bathroom and I stubbed my toe. But not the creepy old guy in yoga class sort of love, but like a good friend or older mentor who loves to be around her.”

    Yep, nothing says I love you like a full bladder and cussing from almost breaking a toe.

  • Today WAS a good day. Like usual, we talked all day long, I kept my phones well hidden from my family’s eyes. I went home, quickly got ready, and left with barely a hello and goodbye to my wife and kids. I told her I was Christmas shopping. I could barely contain my excitement because I was shopping with you… for you!
    Little did I know, although I had been so careful about my phones, I had forgotten about the iPad. She had read our conversation today. How we picked out each other’s outfits and decided on how to do our hair. OUR conversation that was meant just for us… all day long… when I should have been working.
    Oh! And when I came home at 2am, she was waiting for me! She even saw our good nights and professions of love after I had dropped you off and pulled in my driveway!
    She was so upset. So angry. So accusing.
    She showed me all she had read. I tried explaining to her how much our being together helps me… and helps you… feel better… BE better. We mean so much to each other… How it is our way of coping with our families, the ones we do everything to avoid being around.
    She doesn’t understand happiness. How could she? She who is spent taking care of children day in and day out… who only spends all her time taking care of children and the house?
    I realized… OUR happiness hurts her. If our great happiness brings nothing but anger and judgement from this woman, what kind of marriage do I have? So I answered honestly and firmly, when she asked me if tearing our family apart for us to be happy was worth it, yes. YES!! Indeed it is.
    This is a love like no other. A love worth throwing 15 years, a wife, and 4 kids away for. I have found such happiness that they will never, in their bitter, petty lives ever find.

    PS. This was 4 Shmoopies ago….

  • I’ve been itching to make a submission to this Fun Friday. Hope I am not too late for the deadline!

    “My 65 years old, sedentary, married boyfriend climbed a 9219 feet mountain in South America.
    … To gather strength to decide about his future. And he got back alive, but didn’t throw himself into my arms!”

    “My heart felt so tight for him. I was eaten with worry. Even though he had native locals to carry his gear and a camp and hot meals waiting for him at the end of each of a three-day leg of strenuous hiking, I would have visions of him in his awesome, designer decorated office (UBT: at tax payers expense), unaccustomed to this hardship and then fainting off a cliff with my magnificent young pussy as his last vision.

    After all, I am a super cross-fit athlete and had been exhorting my love to join me in my jogging to get prepared (UBT: to show off my magnificence) for the hike. What if he had a stroke and had to be dragged down a 9219 feet mountain in the cold drizzle?! Damn! I had worked so hard to make this catch!!! (UBT: little does she know that this jerk is full of debts.) I even dragged my four kids from three different men to spend a weekend at a national park where my beloved sparkledick surprised his 30 years old Asperger’s son with my awesomeness and we made out in front of this awkward young man.

    But even though I made a ‘welcome home’ greeting card in artisanal paper decorated with hand-made drawings of erotic chili peppers with sweet (UBT: barf) signs of love written all over it, that gray-haired old bitch of his wife read this damn book “Leave a Cheater, Gain a Life” and gave my beloved sparkles such a hard time in divorce that he had no time for me!!! So I left my teen-aged kids with my mom and one of their fathers and now I work in Angola hoping to make a better catch”

    • My wife has been a total nightmare; she even asks me to take our son to school some mornings.
      But even though I’m not working (I’m a hero paramedic so I shift work, I love to wear my uniform because it makes me wonderful don’t you know).

      So when I met you, even though you were only 23 and I was 50 and I decided to take you under my wing at work because you were being bullied, I was only thinking of me , oh I mean you. This might be the second time I’ve committed adultery in a marriage (actually did I mention my first wife is a psycho bitch as well as my second now….)and I’ve the divorce papers to prove it!

      And although my second wife’s mental ill health stems directly from the gaslighting and lying and chronic criticising I have done over the past several years, your mental health is all I think about, because it makes you so much easier to manipulate unlike my wife who has postgraduate degrees coming out her ears which I’ve never quite got over, because I don’t stick at anything and I’ve never actually read a book cover to cover…..

      And the afternoons we spent galavanting round the countryside while my wife worked and then picked up our son, who has special educational needs, well I just needed someone to talk to about how awful a wife she is and how I’m just a good guy with troubles. All my second wife could talk about was the fact she was worried about our son who needed a full psychiatric evaluation due to his severe ADHD, and sure who can be bothered with that.

      And those nights I never came home, I just told my wife I came home late. As long as I got in before she woke up, sure what does that matter. After all she deserves what I did because she asked me to put the bin out.

      Also I don’t think this marriage thing is much fun, its way more fun having an affair at work with a girl 27 years younger than me. I wonder if you’ve noticed I sit on the toilet for hours,also I need to piss in the middle of the night, how romantic.

      I know I am currently living with my 78 year old mother because child protection are now involved and have told me to stay away from the home, but that’s not down to me lying about my marriage to the social worker or continually shouting at my second wife in front of our son. Nope, I’m a super good guy, oh and did I mention I’m a paramedic?????

  • She had me with her trash smile. I just love a woman with a dead tooth. Fuck’n sexy. I saw that black tooth and I knew I had be living a lie for the past 10 years. I knew I had to posses that Towny 👄. I get hard just thinking about decay. Speaking of decay time to discard my wife and nuclear family.

  • Imagining their two hearts 💕 beating as one, I cried inconsolably. As I sobbed I constantly heard the echo of her words, “He’ll never cheat on ME; he’s the best lover I’ve ever had!”

    I reminisced through the tears, recalling the cord of the heating pad that ran under my pillow to his back, the giant pillow he slept with between his legs, and the delightful scent of the pee drenched bed he wet spreading to my side.

    Then another voice entered my head, that of the previous OW, Sharon. “You call that sex?”

    Yes, she must love ❤️ him unconditionally after all.

  • Was it his Hulk Hogan hairstyle? His crooked teeth? The crusty remnants of this morning’s breakfast still drying in his ginger beard? I don’t know, but something about my howorker and how “he got me” just made me feel all warm and fizzy inside. I’m a good girl and I told him “no, we can’t – we can only be friends” but his coffee-breath words about how I was “the one” and “the girl he should have married” made me start doubting myself. Yes, he tried this same tactic the year before on another married coworker, but she (fool that she was, looking a gift horse-face in the mouth) turned him down. She was obviously a crazy person and this was to be ignored in me making sense of his declarations of twu wuv. So we met in his Beemer at work. In the parking garage. And I let his grizzly crusty lips lock with mine, still healing from a cold-sore. I let me touch me. And I knew – he was the one. His wife didn’t understand him. Neither of our spouses did. I’m such a complicated person. Nobody gets me. But he does. So judge not world, because what we have is real. Our spouses are villainous goblin like creatures and we will divorce them and rectify the mistakes that have been our marriages. Our children will understand. They adapt easily. If they won’t, we’ll make them. Because this is real. And even though we won’t often go to the beach or out in the sunlight, because his pale flaky skin can’t handle the sun (like a blood sucking vampire) we will have our moment in the light – a happy blended family, getting a second shot at wuv. How I long for him – those stolen moments during the work day and after work, when we really should be with our children (but they adapt easily) – this is the foundation we will build our future on. So as his wispy white hair brushes my face, as he makes me his own in our lunch break, in my little “cozy” bedroom in my mother’s house – I know I have found meaning in my life at last. Oh my!

  • Movie Review: “The Betrayal Of Blue” (based on a true story)

    Color; Years: 1975/1976; 20,590,344,817 minutes
    Conceived, written, produced & directed by J
    Musical score by Marilyn Manson
    Rated XXX (objectionable content, nudity, sexual situations)

    –Bravissima! J’s performance is a tour-de-force of the art of deception! (NY Times)
    –If you think you’ve seen everything, SEE THIS! (Miami Herald)
    –J’s burst onto the screen in a series of passionate betrayals with many men is UNFORGETTABLE! (NY Daily News)
    –The surprise ending left me speechless! J delivers the goods with such finesse you won’t believe your eyes & ears… (San Francisco Examiner)
    –Jezebel, move over! J makes you look like Mother Theresa… (Chicago Sun-Times)

    Set in the New Jersey suburbs and later in the lush countryside of rural New England, “The Betrayal Of Blue” is truly the “sleeper” picture of the year. Whether your tastes range from sappy romantic tragi-comedy to triple-X hardcore pornography, there is something for everyone in this stunning and powerful story of deceit and betrayal.

    There’s something sad about the male protagonist, Blue; not only is he a classic case of “clueless”, but his pathetic longing for J, his lost love, left me wondering, “Is this guy for real?”.
    Who would stick around after discovering the first round of cheating, only to have three more guys flaunted in his face by his beloved? Although this unlikely premise detracts somewhat from the believability of the film, it is more than compensated for by the incredibly brilliant performance of J, whose series of ongoing deceptions over 2 years, pulled off right under his nose, was beyond perfection. Her physical beauty is surpassed only by her natural acting ability.

    For example, at one point when her first affair is nearly discovered, her lightning-quick thinking to adroitly convince Blue into believing that nothing was going on, is a sheer masterpiece of manipulation. She continues to use her hypnotic sexual charms and musky pheremones to keep ol’ Blue on a string even after he realizes he’s the cuckold. Just guess where the string was tied!

    She leaves no orifice unfilled, nor taboo unbroken as she spends the summer whoring around with a ragged assortment of dirtbag losers, one of whom was once a good “friend” to Blue. She is utterly oblivious to her own guilt and shame, and throws it all back on Blue! Her litany of excuses, blame-shifting, rationalizations and rewritten history unleashed upon Blue renders him powerless to defend his shattered heart. Also in her bottomless bag of tricks are the classic misdirection techniques which J has honed to a keen edge: “You had other lovers before you met me!” Her absolute unwillingness to accept responsibility for her actions is made all the more ironic by her expectation–no, DEMAND (backed up by her formidable wrath)–that Blue not be mortally wounded by what she did, because it was all his fault in the first place! You could say she’s a fry short of a Happy Meal in the empathy department, n’es ce-pas?

    Years later, J describes this loathsome lust-fest to Blue as “soul-connections”, but he recognizes them for what they really were: sweaty, cum-drenched betrayals of the lowest order. I was absolutely AMAZED at the scene where Blue, in obvious deep heartfelt pain at seeing a used condom in the wastebasket next to J’s bed the day after she screwed Blue’s former “pal”—she whips out a pack of Trojans and informs Blue that his pal has a problem with premature ejaculation, and all she was doing was providing the valuable public health service & biology lesson to him about how to slow down his cumming by using a condom! She tells Blue that she was also educating his “friend” about her clitoris, its care and feeding…

    The scenes where Blue discovers her diary and letters describing in gut-wrenching detail some of her sexcapades (…”my mouth on his balls”…..”balling buddy”…and countless others…) and making him the brunt of cruel jokes to her sister are truly cinematic history. Blue’s anguish and nausea is palpable as he leafs through the missives and descends into a black pit of depression, bitterness and dark night of the soul. J ultimately delivers the “coup de grace” to Blue when she attempts to pin the whole rotten mess on him, by angrily accusing him of violating HER privacy! Blue, like a whipped dog, licks his wounds and, spirit broken, forever drops the matter–at least OUTWARDLY. But in reality, his love for her has become hopelessly curdled. He is now obsessed with her belligerent, unkind and unremorseful stance. Deep inside, he will not accept one whit of blame for J’s whoring, and a part of his heart is forever dead to her. Her coverup was worse than her “crime”…..

    The film’s somber tone, explicit sexuality and classic story line is highlighted by the musical score by Marilyn Manson, whose sick lyrics and twisted, atonal compositions underscore the dark Satanic influences in the film. In one passage of pathos after another, “The Betrayal Of Blue” rediscovers the gentle rhymes and poetry of love, and transforms them into obscene bawdy limericks.

  • Her husband had gotten a girlfriend and he was a big loser anyway, posting ads on Craigslist looking for men/women/dogs to fuck. Like she hadn’t suspected in twenty five years of marriage that he was a creeper, takes one to know one. Nine minutes after her divorce was final she went a cunting I mean hunting for what else? A married man!! When she saw the skinny facilities dude come in her office she spread her lips over her yellow crooked teeth and flashed him her best smile. It wasn’t long before they were sending each other silly texts and emails. Not long at all before skinny dude got a Viagra prescription and they were sneaking off to the econo lodge for hot afternoon trysts.

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