God dammit

I miss you so goddamn much. I hurt I cry I repeat. When will this end. You are my world my everything my beginning my end. I want to exist in your world. I don't. I know it's selfish of me to want you to do something you don't feel. I want to do whatever the fuck it takes. I am your slave. I will be the one that takes your abuse, I will be the one that gives you 100% of himself. I will be door that you need to slam. I will be whatever you want. I will be whatever you need. I will be yours to do with what you want. The woman who dumped me after one date, now she wants to go shopping and hang out. I want to tell her my heart belongs to someone else, even though you don't want me.  You could go to the ends of the earth and not find someone who loves as much as I do.  I can't do this. It's killing me from the inside. I doubt you'll ever see this, because why the fuck would you care? I write this in secret, because I know if I show you my true feelings at best you will ignore them. At worst you will turn them in comedy material for you and your friends to laugh at. I'm a joke to you. A pathetic joke. The sad part is, I am to myself too.

Chest

You decided to put another picture on Fet. It was of your chest. I know you feel empowered by all the men who hoot and holler when they see your chest. But why? Is the attention of scumbags, perverts and mental deficients that important to you? You should feel pride in your body without having to parade it online. They only want you for one thing. You know this. You can say you've made great friends, and had meaningful sex, and all that. But at what cost. You gave up a home. You busted your family in a thousand pieces. You have no money, You live in the fucking dirty ghetto with murderers and prostitutes. You can tell yourself you're happy. You can tell yourself you're free. You can tell yourself you're living your best life. 

But you're lying to yourself. I gave you everything you ever asked for. So if you didn't get what you wanted, it's all on you. When someone steals your car from your driveway, it's on you. When your son quits coming over at all. It's on you. When they break in your house and take the only things of value among the mountains of clutter, it's on you.  I know that's the way you want it. But it doesn't have to be. You hurt me in the worst way possible. You have broke my soul. I will likely never trust another woman in my life, thanks to you.  I got dumped the other night, and guess what? I was fucking relieved. I was relieved because I knew I wouldn't have to open my heart, and get it trampled on. You turned me into one of those fucking nutjobs on Fet who like to get beat and hurt. Except I don't like it. It just happens. Instead of the red marks on the ass that you're so fucking proud to have, they are on my heart. The scars just won't heal. Begging is something I won't do but. I need you to know I fucking love you so much. Despite your evil ways, despite the horrible things you do that you think are just fine. Despite the dregs of humanity that you welcomed into your bedroom to treat you like a cum dumpster. Which is appropriate, because your life is a dumpster fire. You're just too arrogant to face it. Just because you say a lie enough does not make it true. 

(A.) James at 15

 Yesterday was my youngest child's 15th birthday. He's had a week of celebrations. He's a great kid and deserves it. Last night at trivia, when Alex went to hand in one of our answers, one of our other teammates said, "I could have sworn he was 16 going on 17. He's a good kid."  That makes me feel good. Like I'm doing something right. I sure as fuck don't get that from my ex or my oldest child. They both love to find shit wrong with me. 

I try and put them first in everything I do. Even for my evil ex, who accepted a small army of scumbags into her pussy. There is too much evil in this world. When that evil hits close to home, you want to protect your kids from it. That's what I'm trying to do. That may mean going to court and spending a small fortune on it, but I have to do it. 

BTW, James at 15 was an old tv show from the 70s I think.  I only know about it because of the Beastie Boys lyric, "I'm not James at 15 or Chachi in charge."

I wonder, I just wonder

I wonder what would it take to be in your world again.

I wonder what would it take to wake up and look into your eyes.

I wonder what would it take to lay in bed until way past one in the morning and laugh until we cried at something stupid.

I wonder what would it take to not be overcome by dread when I walk into the house and you are not there.

I wonder if you knew that noticed when you weren't there. 

I wonder what it would take to get you off. 

I wonder what things men did to you.

I wonder if you liked it. 

I wonder why didn't you ask me to do all the things.

I wonder if you ever loved me. 

I wonder if you know I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you in the future.

I wonder.

Sometimes

Sometimes when I pull off to leave the kid, I fantasize that you're inside, waiting for me to come in too.

Waiting for me to caress your face, look you deep in the eyes and tell you how much I love you. 

Sometimes I fantasize I open the garage door and the rav will be there. Sometimes I fantasize that I walk in and hear you laughing at the TV or your phone. 

I fantasize you aren't disgusted by me, and want me to come in. 

I fantasize that you want the bedtime stories to be true. 

I fantasize there's a place in your heart for me... And you realize that there is no one who will love you to the fullest extent of your wildest dreams. 

I fantasize about Sundays laying in bed talking about the future, one that doesn't make you sick to your stomach because its with me. 

I fantasize that you feel something besides disgust for me and everything about me. 

These wounds won't heal.

 The world keeps turning, and I'm floating through life trying to keep it together, and you're the only person who can cure me. 

This isn't about self-pity. I'm fully aware of how pathetic I look pining after the one woman who hates me more than anyone else.

Its about honesty and communication, and fact that I will love you forever.

The wound isn't healing.

I do not know why this wound won't heal.

I want it to. 

You deserve better. 

Why am I still in love with you?

Truth is, I was never not in love with you. 

Im apologizing again for all the things I did that sent you away. I am trying to be a better man for our children. I hope they see that. I hope they realize this family is all that matters

 I know no one on this earth agrees with me. 

There's something missing and it's you. What magic potion do I need to make this go away, or for you to come back?

Why the hell do I feel just as strongly about loving you now than ever?

Is it because I can't have you?

I can't replace you, even though there are others waiting who say yes I can. 

But none of them are you. 

You are in my soul. It continually calls out for you. This yearning hurts physically. The guilt hurts incessantly. The regret gnaws at me like I'm the poor fat kid who couldn't run fast enough on the zombie shows.

This is dumb of me. I know damn good and well you don't want me.

I would crawl through fire, on my hands and knees if it meant you would be at the other end. There's literally nothing I wouldn't do to have you back at home, back in my bed, back in my arms, back in the place where you are honored and adored.

I have so many blessings in life. My kids, my friends, my job, etc. but without you to share it with, I am nothing.

custody

I'm about to start legal proceedings to get primary custody of my son. The main reason: He just doesn't want to be over there. The house is a shitty little shack that's always in disrepair in a shitty neighborhood. But it's perfect for her, since she's a shitty person who does shitty things with other shitty people. It's only matter of time before one of the scumbags who uses her as a cum receptacle shows up while he's there, and she has to explain why some 60 year old man is at the door looking for her. Or one of the emotionally crippled psycho bitches that are now her besties shows up in all leather asking if my son is a Dom or a sub. The kid needs an environment where he goes to bed on time, has a decent meal and not some shit that she threw together in the microwave. He needs a home, not a hovel. He needs to not be in a high crime area. An area she has no problem exposing my son to. 

Once my kid is with me, I don't give a shit what she does. She can take big black cocks in the ass until her rectum prolapses. That's her business. But while my kid is there, I want a 10 foot brick wall between him and her cum dumpster lifestyle.

FISST

I saw a video about conflict resolution in a relationship, called the FISST method.

F: I'm Feeling... State how you feel without using a "You" statement, which will be interpreted as an attack.

I: Intention. State your intention. I care about this relationship, so I want to have this conversation, even though it's hard and scary.

S: Solution. Lay out a solution. Here's what I think would help.

ST: We're on the same team. It's you and me together against this problem, not you and me against each other.

Blame

Do i feel guilty you left? Yes. I know my actions or inactions played a part in this. But you didn't say one word. You didn't let me into your life. Your hopes, your dreams, your fantasies, until it was too late. It would have taken 30 seconds for you to tell me how you were feeling. Instead, you took the evil way out. No one forces you to fuck a small army, leaving  behind a trail of tears, heartache and despair. And despite all that, my insides tell me I can still please you if you came home. They tell me I can forgive. But there will always be trust issues. But I assure you, I swear on my life, I will not stop communicating how I feel. I will not stop loving you. I just can't. And that has me fucked up beyond repair. You broke me. And I hope you can live with the ruins in which you left my life.

The last of it.

I gave away the last of her clothes. I feel fine about it. I'm of course sad that I have to do it in the first place. I also feel bad about all the money she spent on these clothes. We could have gone on a nice vacation, or marriage therapy, or just pay off debt. I'm sure her new house will not be as filled as this one, simply because there's no schmuck to pay all the fucking bills while she's out fucking internet randos and local civil servants. 

all of a sudden, I'm smiling

My beautiful amazing friend T asked me out again. I know it means nothing more than a hot friend inviting her fat friend to go watch a comedy show. But I dig hanging out with her so much. For some reason I never run out of stuff to talk with her about. At no point have I ever gotten a vibe that she wanted anything more than a friend.  I keep telling myself that to keep my crush response in check. Maybe I'll get it through my thick skull 💀.

Risky Business

So putting yourself on Fet has a certain amount of risk. So I don't do it. The account I have has random pictures of people other than me and no way to connect them. Tina not so much. While I would never ever ever out her to her job or anyone she knows. She could easily do the same thing to me with this blog. It would kill certain relationships or people if they knew how I feel about CMW. 

Obi Wan Kenobi once said, "Who is more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?" I've adapted that to my situation: "Who is more foolish, the cheating slut or the fool who is still in love her and wants her back?"

Maelstrom of pain

8/1

I went on yet another first date.  It was fine. I get to tell the same fucking stories, ask the same questions. I'm a journalist, I can ask great questions, but I just don't want to anymore. Maybe I was just in a shitty mood. 

I must have been tired. I cried on the way home. Why won't it stop hurting?

There are now 4 women who told me they want to be with me. Me. The fat kid who stutters, and is the king of social anxiety. I find that so amazing. Despite that huge ego boost, I still want the worst partner in the world. The shittiest woman who committed the ultimate betrayal. The one who not only doesn't love me, doesn't want me, doesn't even want to be in the same room as me. I'm broken. She broke me. I don't know if there's enough Krazy glue in the world to put this humpty Dumpty looking mutha fucka back together again.

I miss every fucking thing about her. I know she isn't the same person I married. I miss that woman