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UBT: Bad Cheater Poetry

Universal Bullshit Translator
The Universal Bullshit Translator

Dear Chump Lady,

While rage packing FW’s stuff after D-day, I found a poem she had penned on a Post-it. It was in the bottom of her nightstand drawer. This is a little different than the normal UBT submissions that are written directy to chumps, but I wondered if the UBT still wanted a crack at it? Or is it already so insanely narcissitic that there’s nothing to translate?

I’ve got my own gravitational pull
Like a black hole
Stealing the universe’s role
Not doing what I’m told
Splitting atoms, hairs of fleas
It’s just all the same to me
I am just doing as I please
Taking responsibility for earth’s own gravity




Dear Erasure,

The Universal Bullshit Translator loves insanely narcissistic cheater poetry. Nom, nom!

But before I toss it into the crushing mandibles of the bullshit machine… a Post-it?

So disposable, yet so grandiose. I do my best work on Post-its. My medium is adhesive notepads. Such inspiration cannot be contained by mere office supplies.

I wonder if you were left to find the scraps of her genius.

Also… I think it’s a rap.

Well, without further ado, the UBT must earn its Lebkuchen.

I’ve got my own gravitational pull

My poetry’s heavy.

Beware my charisma! Lest you be pulled into the tractor beam of my talent!

Like a black hole

Nothing can escape my electromagnetic narcissism.

Stealing the universe’s role

I’m bigger than the universe. And the Beatles. And Jesus.

Not doing what I’m told

Oppositional Fuckwit Disorder.  #badspacecowboy

Splitting atoms, hairs of fleas

What rhymes with me? Obesity? Twee? Mediocrity?

Let’s go with flea.

It’s just all the same to me

Ennui! That’s rhymes with me.

I am just doing as I please

You can do that when you’re a Universe. They just let you.

Taking responsibility for earth’s own gravity

Sit down Sir Isaac Newton. Gravity is MINE.


Send Lebkuchen. The UBT needs a lie down.

Ask Chump Lady

Got a question for the Chump Lady? Or a submission for the Universal Bullshit Translator? Write to me at Read more about submission guidelines.
  • Thank goodness CL’s writing is brilliant. UBT’s commentary almost made that shit narcissistic self-serving “poetry” worth reading.

    I did find it funny that an AP with a black hole for a heart/soul would want to actually refer to a black hole in their short poem of bad metaphors.

    • The black hole reference appears to be quite an amusing Freudian slip.
      These FW’s are indeed black holes. Nothing gets to escape their unquenchable sucking ability. They just SUCK that level of large!
      Great job Cl and UBT. Having to choke down that hogwash is a lot to ask first thing in the morning. Might have to put on a fresh pot of coffee and do a restart of the day.
      Thank God UBT’s post-translation trash receptacle was built large enough to hold unspeakable volumes of BS time and time again.
      This Walt Whitman of dimwits is def the “flea” in the black hole of her delusional out of control spinning universe.
      Be ever so glad the universe is expanding, as she is moved farther and farther from the light of your orbit.
      And we’re all hoping she’s given up poetry, for the sake of any universe that exists.

    • I think the Post-it poem was from a she-cheater, not an AP. Romanticizing sociopathy, ew. Reminds me of poems and screeds written by serial killers.

      • I apologize for hijacking this but CL will you please weigh in on the Amy Robach mess tomorrow? It’s another case of two spouses left behind.

        • Though I know nothing about their personalities, from first glance it seems like Andrew Shue and Marilee Fiebig could be added to the long “wtf?” list of chumps in the public eye proving that cheating has nothing to do with the attractiveness of betrayed partners.

  • FW was a “song writer” in his spare time and OMG.

    I’m pretty sure he wrote this one about me, LOL. It is full of projection, for sure. I’d say he sucked out all MY blood and cash, and I wasn’t the stalker. And the self-pity (starting with the title). Geez. Me, me, me. The “note” was included in the description under the video.:

    ME TOO

    Note: This song is a work of fiction. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Except Richard Simmons.

    If you’re looking for truth, it’s in the unwritten verses between the versus.

    You’ve got narrowed eyes
    and a Richard Simmons tank top beneath it all
    You’ve got nothing but pride
    I wonder how you keep you face so straight
    You’re pissing me off
    You’re invading my personal space
    You’re choking me now
    We’ve got so much in common
    Nature versus Nurture
    Fuck you

    I’m bleeding
    from my hands
    Because I’d hoped
    you’d care
    I’m bleeding
    from my hands
    Because I’d hoped
    you’d care
    about it
    I’d even
    make my bed
    until I bled
    the daily bread

    I married my mom
    and that’s a hell of a thought when you’re hard
    I’m sleeping inside
    then I’m back outside
    throwing my toys
    I want a divorce
    Why the fuck won’t you
    leave me alone?
    You’re stalking me now
    You’ve sucked out all my
    my ***
    my cash
    like I taught you


    But you’ve got nothing but the best of intentions
    Nothing but the best of intentions
    Nothing but the best of intentions
    The best of intentions
    How’d you feel about that?
    How’d I feel about that?
    How’d they feel about that?
    How’d we feel about that?
    I happened to me too
    We happened to me too

    • Fortunately, AP wasn’t a “poet”. She did write a lot of cringy notes, which FW had stuck all over his work cubicle, and a LOT of letters which sounded like they’d been written by someone in junior high.

      • ISTL: I realized after that my XFW was attracted to women stuck in junior-high mentality (the AP referring to everything as “ah-maze balls” in her texts) 🥴. I guess his brain doesn’t have to flex as much with her.

        • OMG. AP used “amazeballs” all the time. And “totes” for totally, among other very teenage expressions. She was 10 years younger than FW, and a total millenial hipster. Ugh. She once told me that when it came to FW, she just “couldn’t help herself” because she was “like a 15 year old”. Which was completely true. She was 32 at the time, with two kids. FW was perpetually 19 though, so I suppose they were well matched. I grew up. He didn’t, and needed someone on his own level.

          • Ugh. Totes. Whenever my teenagers said that: ya you can totes these dishes into the kitchen & put everything away!. Haha! Ya honestly, I think alot of FWs don’t grow up & their equally immature APs.

          • ISTL yes!! AP’s have their own language that is for some God unknown reason like a pheromone to FW’s. I will never understand it because objectively it’s undeniably awful and cringeworthy. Case in point – FW’s side bitch refers to herself as a “GAL” or “Beach Chic” – note intentional typo there. Her car is always a “BENZ” -oooh so edgy (tacky)” FW has always been a pickup truck person – always. And she sends these super weird things like “Fuckwit, I love seeing your photos, I can see your heart. Love always wins”. That’s not his heart you see its grease from the taco truck btw.

            She sends pics of her pedicures (WTF??? EWKK!!!) and cats (again WTF – FW is a dog person) Her moms house (????) and drone pics of golf courses with the tagline “Fuck it – lets just say Fuck it and go to Maui for XMAS.” Yeah – Divorce cant get done fast enough at this point – they suck….

    • ..and there it is – mine was so clueless and stupid that I had to behave like a mother, supporting his man baby ways. Then I got fired as a wife because I was too bossy. Good enough reason to fuck your physi-ho-therapist. Welcome to crazy Crazyville where you need 3 brains to think straight.

      • Chumpintgton, that was my first take. He married his mom and throws his toys? Did he just call himself out as a man baby?

        Kinda like the black hole OP FW, are they just that blind to how they are/the irony, or do they actually think it’s ok to be that way?

    • ISTL:
      Wow!! That’s quite the poem there!😳
      Reminds me of an out of control road rager. You know they have a very shitty relationship with themselves and lash out to the world trying to clear that energy off. It’s like an internal tornado lives in them, spinning completely out of control.
      It’s a pretty tragic scene, to be at that level of internal angst in your life and being unable to escape from it from your own choices.
      I think that’s the karma that is spoken of. What they give out to the world is what comes back at them tenfold. Pretty damn awful way to exists.

    • “How’d you feel about that?
      How’d I feel about that?
      How’d they feel about that?
      How’d we feel about that?”

      This is killing me! So DEEP, man. It’s like Dr. Seuss for cheaters!

      I’m gonna give a go at an ode to my ex-FW.

      Would you blow him on a boat?
      Would you blow him with a goat?
      I know you did it on the counter
      Sure you had a kitchen pounder

      Would you send him dirty pics
      Like his sugar plums and sunrise d*cks?
      Oh here’s one from beneath your skirt!
      Unkempt nether bits alert!

      You and your HVAC beard-y dude
      Can finally, freely go get screwed

    • Your ex just laid himself out for study like a bug pinned under a microscope. Altering the identity of the victim to reverse victim/offender– classic psychopath stuff:

      He’s bleeding from his hands because, er… stigmata?? Wow. So basically he gets “injured” (proverbially or actually) to make you scurry to his rescue by way of forcibly positioning you in the mommy role, then– haha, prank– accuses you of being his mother and suffocating him. You don’t come to him when he’s bleeding but yet you won’t go away? Also classic contradiction. Criminologists describe batterers as “suffering” from randomly dueling, internally driven fears of either abandonment or “engulfment.” My guess is that the delusion of “engulfment” results from several self-fulfilling tactics of abusers: 1) because abusers mirror their prey– pretending to have the same ethics and interests as the victim, etc.– at least until the fake guise becomes too constricting, then the abuser will blame victims for “forcing” the abuser to pretend to be someone else and brim with resentment at having to keep up the “good egg” act; and 2) abusers are secretly threatened by the merest sign of independence in victims and will do things to sabotage and isolate victims as a means of fostering dependence so that victims’ attention is fully on abusers. But forcing the victim into such close proximity will also begin to feel too “constricting.” What follows is the “push/pull” cycle of abuse where abusers attempt to completely control the “distance” or “closeness” of victims according to random internally driven fears. Too close– push away. Too distant– lovebomb or terrorize victim back into proximity and dependence. In order to have a sense of complete control, abusers demand that the victim is doing whatever they’re doing involuntarily– i.e., has no control over whether they’re “pulled in” or “pushed away.” In that sense, the victim’s very happiness and agency are the threats because happiness depends on people having at least some sense of control of their lives but the victim’s sense of control is subtracted from the abuser’s need for complete control.

      It gets even more complicated because there’s also the “compulsive re-enactment” part of abuse where abusers will act out abusive dynamics from traumatic childhoods but with victim/perp roles reversed. Reenacted is speculated to be an attempt to gain “mastery” over past events and to turn former feelings of helplessness (from being the victim) into feelings of omniscience (from playing the perpetrator). But attacking an innocent person creates stigma and threatens abusers’ public image so abusers will force/trick/trap the victims into the roles of the abusers’ former perpetrators as a means of creating an effigy that justifies attack.
      Ergo, “Waah, waah, be my mommy! Thwack! Bad mommy!”

      To get even freakier, abusers tend to reserve most of their anger towards the “victim parent” in the case they witnessed domestic abuse between adult caregivers as children. In other words, in internalizing the traits and behaviors of the family’s main abuser, the adult abuser has also internalized their own abuser’s hatred and blame towards the victim parent. Serial killers and batterers frequently lie about or alter childhood narratives to protect the most abusive parent while laying blame on the less abusive parent. This may also be because too many psych researchers who study perpetrators in prison settings cling to moldy old Freudian theory (basically “blame it all on mom”) and perps tend to mirror the expectations of those in authority. But abusers’ loyalty to their own former abusers is evident in how abusers emulate these former role models and covering up or rationalizing their own abusers’ crimes as well as directing blame and anger towards their own abusers’ central victims fit the pattern.

      Anyway, creeps should be encouraged to express themselves poetically. Not to “help” them but as fodder for clinical research.

      • Oh, and hijacking victim status and an entire movement with the “Me Too” title is priceless. Apparently he doesn’t like it when people call out rapists, huh? Hmm. I don’t want to guess what his favorite class of porn was.

      • After reading that HOAC Ive decided humans are too complicated and in my next life I am going to come back as a dog

      • According to FW, his dad abused him (while leaving his sister alone, which also enraged FW and caused him to cut his sister off completely), but like you said, he laid more blame on his mom for standing by and letting it happen.

        However, having spoken to his sister (she and I have remained friends), turns out at least some of his stories were … reimagined … with him as a victim when he really brought it on himself (like the story that his parents kicked him out – truth being closer to the fact that he refused to live by his parents’ rules [and not unreasonable ones – things like “don’t do drugs”] and so they said he couldn’t stay). And knowing how he twisted things that had happened in our relationship so they didn’t resemble reality at all, I now take every tragic story he told me with a big grain of salt.

  • I can’t help noticing that the UBT is much more cooperative and less truculent than in the past. Did it get new sprockets or something? Or are you baking it’s Lebkuchen with cannabis these days? Thanks for the early morning smile!

    • Well, I haven’t fed it any Esther Perel lately, and that improves its mood. Also December is Lebkuchen season, which helps. I’m sure its grumpiness will return shortly.

  • i am deep
    but do not share
    my thoughts unless
    my favourite post-it pad is
    close by

    blue post-its are
    my signature

    • damnitfeelsbad… that’s gold.
      I would seriously buy a book of your legit poetry though. I think you are very talented. Just saying!

  • The exgfOW was reputed to be ‘arty’, ‘bohemian’ and to ‘write poetry’. I was dumped by the ex with a list of my faults. I discovered the affair a few weeks later. The emails included a limerick and a poem from exgfOW to the ex. I was therefore able to appreciate the full glory of her poetic skills over two poetic forms. The limerick was written to give him a laugh while we endured his mother’s 80th birthday party weekend. The limerick was mildly sexual, referred to the ‘boy’ from [their home town] throwing her across a bed. The ex responded with ‘you are very talented. And good at limericks too.’

    The poem was written 4 days before my dad’s funeral two weeks after the birthday weekend. I had caused nothing but trouble for ex and exgfOW by having a father who died, delaying their plans. How inconvenient of my dad and me! It was headed ‘something to hold on to’, and it included the words ‘I can’t wait to tell the world about our love and not give a f*** who knows’. This is how I discovered the affair after 26 years together. He responded by addressing her as ‘mate’, and he continued that she had ‘moved him’, made him ‘teary’, ‘yearning’ ‘soulmates’. I wasn’t expecting these emails to pop up on screen as I linked to a website to submit a job application. I was 59 and just retired with limited income, desperately trying to find work following the dumping, with confidence on the carpet following the lecture on my faults.

    With hindsight I can see how pathetic these fifty years plus teenagers were and how much I deserved better treatment. And there was no passion in any of it; it was lukewarm and bland, like they were acting out being star-crossed lovers but without conviction. In fact all their choices at every stage were theirs to make. No one stood in their way when they went out in their twenties: they just didn’t like each other very much. Hardly a massive love story, but more of a damp squib. Like the poetry.

    • “They were acting out being star-crossed lovers but without conviction”. How well put. It took me a really (really) long time to believe the affair was happening, partly because I just didn’t see much chemistry between them. I honestly thought she was gay (even though she was married to a man). Turns out she’s bi, so I wasn’t far off. They made it seem like it was the most romantic story in the world, destined in the starts and all that. When it was such a mundane, run-of-the-mill work affair.

    • I suspect if many of us had a window into their furtive romps we would discover it is not exactly a hallmark moment of love and romance.

      Overage teenagers for sure. Destined to look ugly in the bright light of day.

  • Here’s something from the Kunty Kibbler for the UBT to choke on. Found in the early days of forced cohabitation, approx 2 months after fucking the Chlorine Special for the first time.


    Ash Wednesday. He was there. Standing in front of me. Saying hello. Sitting down. Smiling. At me.
    …I kissed him.

    The coldest day of the year. He was there. Opening the door. Sitting beside me on the bed. Smiling. At me.
    …I fucked him.

    That Friday night. He was there. Getting out of the car. Walking toward me. Arms around me. Smiling. At me.
    …I blew him.

    That Wednesday afternoon. He was there. Taking off his shirt. Under me on the sofa. Staring at me. Smiling. At me.
    …I like him.

    He is there. Kissing me. Holding me. Touching me. Being with me. Smiling. At me.

    • Oh my. This sounds like something my ex’s AP would have written. I stumbled on an email from her that started “shall I tell you all the ways I saw you today?” and went on to describe various scenes in her day, including breakfast, a walk, and sex in the shower, but also FW being there while AP…changed her son’s diaper. Sexy.

    • That’s quite a romantic love story there UX. They should make a Hallmark movie. Fucking & Blowing… him on top of me, me on top of him. Oh wait. Got confused. So did the FW apparently. That’s porn.

    • Morbidly curious, I just googled Ash Wednesday 2016 (when this all went down) and the date is February 10. I told her I was ending things on February 2, eight days prior. So she wasted no time.

    • All the energy of this poem comes back to her. This is pretty revealing about how kibbles work for the cheater. Wow, look, he is looking/smiling/staring AT ME! AT ME!

      He. Is there. Being an admirer. Admiring. Me! / I approve …

      • Hadn’t noticed that Mag, but yeah — a pretty astute glimpse into what registers with and motivates these types of people. I can only hope the Chlorine Special understands what the ramifications are if he lets up the tiniest bit. My daughter’s discounted college tuition depends on it.

  • That is…. if I had written something like that I would have shredded it and burned the pieces to maintain my dignity.

  • The one thing I liked about Erasure’s post? The rage-packing the FW’s stuff! Well done. I hope you drop kicked it all to the curb too, along with the “all about me” poetry.

    • Rage packing is quite the rush.
      Not quite as good their reaction when they find all their dresser and clothing neatly arranged in the garage.

      • Or including the enormous pile of his used shoe insoles (10+ prs?) that I rage packed? Friends advised me to throw them out- heck no! I gotta be petty Betty right now!

      • I bagged all fuckwit’s shite and stuck it in the spare room.

        When he came over to collect it, he was really peeved because I’d shoved all his clothes in bin bags, especially his para blazer. “You didn’t even fold it !”.

  • Some women imagine that getting low quality men to fuck them is a huge accomplishment. I can see this idiot being one of those.

    I offer up easy sex and low character men line up so I must have a gravitational pull.

    Umm no…’re just a cheap whore that said men will use. Any of us women could do the same thing if we were trash like you.

    I saw this mentality a lot in the military.

  • It reads like a 4 year old sitting in the sandbox with other toddlers arguing with her mom about playing nice.

    “No, I won’t do what you say. You can’t make me!”
    “It’s my toy – no one can play with it but me!”
    “This is my toy and nobody can take it.”
    “I’m not gonna’ listen; you can’t make me!”
    “I don’t have to follow the rules. No! No! No!”
    “You’re never, ever, ever gonna’ tell me what to do!”

    Put that kid down for a long nap.

  • When my now ex-husband went on business trips, which were long and frequent, I wrote him little love poems on Post-it notes, all related to to where he was going and what he was doing. At first, I just put them inside his suit jackets for encouragement during meetings. As the years went by, although he didn’t praise them or thank me, he made it clear that he expected them in literally every piece of clothing he packed, except a pair of socks could get one, not two. Much to my amazement, while packing up his stuff (I didn’t want him in the house to do it himself) I discovered several gallon zip-lock bags full of them. I don’t know if I had read LACGAL yet, but I knew enough to keep the kibbles I wrote.

    He planned to marry this “sole mate” he “knew” solely online, and told me she was the best writer he knew, which was a slap in my face, since I wrote for national media. He said that most of the time, she didn’t seem able to write at even a basic level, especially for a supposed American, so he thought she was mentally impaired. However, she also, according to him, wrote brilliant poetry. I read a few of her “poems,” and they were so disjointed that I fed them into a Google search. It quickly showed that she had gone to websites such as “Fifty ways to say good morning to your lover,” and randomly cut and pasted five to ten lines which were never meant to be run together. Each line was a different style, and run together made bizarre mashups, with a Shakespearean line followed by rap line followed by greeting-card tripe.

    He did something similar himself, “writing” a song that consisted primarily of random lines from different Beatles songs. He considered himself “above” the Beatles in his musical tastes, so I think he cribbed these from my “Beatles Complete Songbook,” and had assumed they were obscure because HE didn’t know them.

    Like other exes here, he fancied himself a songwriter/musician. His lyrics were awful—think moon/June/spoon/pontoon–yet he persisted in entering them in vanity competitions, and singing them at his gigs. He constantly demanded feedback, but what he really wanted was praise. Every minute kiddo and I were in his car had to be devoted to listening to recordings of him singing his songs. He was furious if I questioned anything, including his misuse of words. So glad I don’t have to listen to his crap.

    Kiddo has what I thought was an endearing politeness in always asking if he can turn on the radio or listen to his own music with headphones. I just realized that it’s probably because he was not allowed to do so with ex. I’m so glad that the Parental Responsibilities Evaluator also saw through ex’s crap and the Judge concurred with his no-contact recommendation. And I’m thankful that ex posted his crap online, because part of the evidence I gave the PRE were the lyrics and links to the videos of ex’s own songs about killing people, plus his email stating that all his songs were about aspects of himself. Turns out his songs were valuable after all.

    • moon/June/spoon/pontoon. Honestly all these posts have my eyes watering but this just made me laugh out loud as I get exactly what you mean. It’s almost zero effort poetry.

  • I’d forgotten (because there was just so much lunacy) how The Parasite, in an attempt to touch my heart and smooth things over, recycled a letter his ex wife had written him when their 13 year marriage ended (due to his cheating—she’d really loved him). In their case, it made sense but the sentiments expressed truly had nothing to do with our relatively short relationship. He also failed to change some gender indicators, so it in places it was written from a woman’s perspective. I tossed it back in his face and informed him it was an intrusion and insult to his former wife to have done it –and told him I’d already read it months before.
    As usual, what he did was the wrong thing.

    • I know I read so many heinous things on this site, but this one really gets me fired up! Just imagining some fuckwit taking the heartbroken letter I wrote after he cheated and using it to try to express “real love” to another person he has cheated on!

      Not even knowing enough to change gender markers or tailor the sentiment to your situation? That is some level of broken.

      I don’t know why this one just … ugh! Maybe because it’s plagiarism. Just ugh!

  • 🤣 I half expected that verse to lead into a chorus of “Dayman… AAAHAAAAHAAAAAA, Fighter of the Nightman… AAAHAAAAHAAAAA, Champion of the Sun.”
    (referencing It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia)

  • I’m betting I know what epithet Erasure has given his “black hole” of an ex…

    Coming to the defense of poetry written on diminutive paper, William Carlos Williams, poet and MD, composed many of his poems on prescription pads.

    • Adelante, today’s post had me imagining that if WCW had cheated, the chump might have been like, hey, look at this entitled post-it note left on the fridge! He’s not even sorry about eating my plums, and rubbing my face in it! 🙂

  • Oh, the sappy cringey missives of cheaters.

    The one I found in his email trash began, “To my sole mate.”

    He went on to declare that he had come to love the ways of her culture. (She is a Chinese national he found on Craigslist in Casual Encounters. He is the uber suburban white boy who complained about any money I spent on my lifelong love and appreciation of Asian culture, and had to be coerced into attending any events related to my lifelong love and appreciation of Asian culture. Except the trip to Japan, where he undoubtedly hooked up the day he said he was going to tour a manufacturing facility in Osaka.)

    He promised to Find Her Again Someday!

    He wasn’t even good at poetry or written romantic expressions during the course of our fake marriage.

    He picks his nose and eats it. He is now 59. I think she is equally gross. I agree they are sole mates. Matching heels.

    • You reminded me about the foot poem my ex wrote to his now wife. What is it about poetry and feet? He wrote”Her soul and mine are entertained till end of time but wait not yet she’s not complete till I mention her pretty little feet.

      • Okay. I trained as a medievalist, and the “catalogue” is a feature of courtly poetry, with the poet rhapsodizing over the fair lady’s hair, brow, and eyes, etc, as an expression of her beautiful soul. Your cheater managed to condense the whole show, moving from soul to feet in one sentence! His “entertained” rather than “intertwined” made me think of Chaucer, who made great use of the courtly catalog in “The Miller’s Tale,” with the miller’s description of a fetching “Alisoun” a telling record of lust, starting not with noble brows that bespeak the lady’s spiritual purity, but with her waist and loins.

        • Yay, a medievalist! I trained in Classics, but always had a degree in medieval history as the goal. Alas, the funds were not there for grad school, but I never lost my love for the period.

  • Ooof, the poor English language! Turns out that cheaters can abuse that, too.

    Even if this were well written, we should be cautious of a cheater’s use of words. As a group, cheaters use language to present a false self, to get us to believe them rather than our lying eyes, to justify all manner of bad behavior, and to appeal to our need for safety and love. I fell for it many times.

    As Shakespeare put it:

    “The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
    An evil soul producing holy witness
    Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,
    A goodly apple rotten at the heart.
    O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!”

    ― William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice

  • “I’m bigger than the universe. And the Beatles. And Jesus.” This reminds me of a story about the biggest narcissist I’ve ever met, my dad. One Christmas when my brother and I were little we got this little speech…”Christmas isn’t just about Santa Claus. It’s also about Jesus. He’s God the father. But never forget I’M YOUR REAL FATHER! ” Dude was such a narc he couldn’t even take a back seat to Jesus on Christmas!

    • Oh yes. AP is a “writer” and makes that her whole personality. But out of morbid curiosity I read her novel (got it from the library so I didn’t contribute any money to her) and it was probably the worst book I’ve ever read. Just … so bad. My best friend, who reads a lot of “trash” fiction (books with good stories but bad writing) and enjoys it, couldn’t get past chapter two. I slogged through to the end to see if it got better, but it got worse. It has 5 stars on Amazon, but I know at least 4 of the 5 reviews were written by her family and friends (including FW), so they’re not exactly unbiased.

      FW thought that he was a genius, and that us mere mortals should support him so he could complete his masterpieces. He did have talent, but that still doesn’t make you the center of the universe.

      • ISTL — the Chlorine Special released his latest novel in March (madcap adventures of having an open marriage) and to date there are thirty-four 5-star or 4-star Amazon reviews, the vast majority of which are written by friends and family. That’s to be expected — it’s how the publishing game is played — but when I saw that KK had submitted reviews on behalf of each of my teenage daughters, I almost felt sorry for the guy. That’s just sad. (Also heard from ex-BIL that he and his wife were begged to submit reviews, but they resisted.)

        • I don’t supposed you’d care to reveal the title? Sadly, Amazon only let’s you review books you’ve ordered, but we could order it and immediately return it.

          • Ha — I’d SO love to, but you know the adage: be the gray rock, never give them a reason to think you’re paying any attention, much less instigating sabotage. That said, even a novice user of Amazon’s advanced search function would very likely be able to identify it quickly given the information contain in the paragraph above. 😉

  • I don’t know why this just killed me: “You can do that when you’re a Universe. They just let you.” My face hurts from laughing.

  • i think it’s time to write poetry about the reality of being chumped. experiential poetry. where you ask your GP for STI testing, visit your kickass lawyer for the first time, etc.etc.

    limerence + hostile poetry be damned.


    • I am about to open my journal and jot down a few lines… I wrote some decent poems about my feelings for him when I was in college (that got published in the uni literary magazine!) and I think they deserve a rework after 30 years.

  • My favorite narc move was we he took me to the Affair Proof your marriage classes, while he was cheating, so that I could do a better job!

  • “Taking responsibility for earth’s own gravity.

    Sit down Sir Isaac Newton. Gravity is MINE”.


    That is the best ever. I’m doubled over and gasping.

    Well, not much more to say after that, is there ? Really though, the egomania is just mindboggling.

    Ex fuckwit was incapable of semi literacy, let alone ‘poetry’, so at least I was spared that.

    Dear Erasure, not wanting at all to make light of the pain, but did finding this not make you cackle a wee bit hysterically ? Hugs.xx

  • 🤣 👏
    Oppositional Fuckwit Disorder totally needs to be in the DSM.

    If that poem had been a parody of a narcissist writing a poem, it would have been a great poem.
    What’s worse than a FW who thinks s/he has talent and profound things to say. Good to know you got rid of that douchey albatross, Erasure.

  • After seeing that the OP’s name is Erasure, I couldn’t help but want to try a couple erasure poems on this source text. I don’t know if this will work with the blog comment formatting. Here goes. Four erasures in the voice of the FW:

    e go
    universe’s role
    Split s, fleas
    on r ear


    my o o
    S li t verse

    S litting


    a lack

    I’m old
    Sp itting hairs
    all the
    g as
    in it ow


    I’ve got grav o l pull
    of f
    It’s just all the
    do ng I
    Tak e for art

  • No Post It poetry here but Klootzak has a Post It note on which he wrote, “Being lonely isn’t being alone, it’s the feeling that no one cares.”

    Got that channel switched on Sad Sausage. lol

  • Oh. my.

    And here we think we’re insulting them by calling them black holes 😂🤣😭

    Thanks so much for sharing this gem, Erasure.

  • I actually found a poem my X wrote to her AP. I kept coming back to it….helped me move on and realize just how full of BS she was. I set it as a reminder on my phone…every 2 weeks…read this until I was cured.

    It wasn’t good, but it did say he was her “one and only if they weren’t together in the future.”. I tried, went through being a total chump, then finally realized I’d given her permission to continue having me at home and lots of attention on the side.

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