Posts tagged ‘Slut’

February 10, 2011

The Other Woman

by bye2mrwrong

“There is always one woman to save you from another
and as that woman saves you she makes ready to destroy”
(Charles Bukowski)

Where the hell did my husband mange to find a hypocrite whore, from all the women in the world?! A “devote” Mormon, the mistress/slut does not drink coffee or tea as it is not allowed according to the scriptures. But sleeping around and coveting other women’s husbands is probably not a crime in her holy covenant. Disrespectful of her own parents, and unfaithful to both her ex-husbands; still she is a dedicated follower who goes to church almost every Sunday to ask Christ forgiveness for her sins. Hypocritically enough, once she has been forgiven, she continues sinning, as she knows that she will be forgiven again the next time.

I cannot say I know too much about this girl as I have not had the “pleasure” of her company for too long; but while we were still on speaking terms she did offer me some insight into her background. I heard stories of the girl she once was, and how she had gone through all possible stages in her short life in an attempt to find out who she was; from rock to punk, from gothic to the girl next door, from drunkard to teetotal, from innocent to slutty, and from naive, to experienced. A wild child covered in tattoos, she often played the role of the angel in disguise, the victim who needed shelter and protection from the big bad world.

She preyed on men that were weak, or maybe just willing. She used sex to her advantage. I do not know how many lives has she has destroyed or how many broken hearts has she left behind.  But I do know that she cheated on her husbands countless times, usually with their own friends. The first husband her high-school sweetheart ended up going to jail after beating up the 5th and last man he caught her with. A man she said was gay, and then ran off with, as she stole her husband’s money and credit cards.

Then as she met the next man in her life, once she got bored she moved on to his best friend, who apparently gave her the attention she craved and shelter she needed. This was the man she then married, although he too bored her quite quickly afterwards.

Her next affairs were with older men, married men with families, her employers, and others just random strangers who gave her the attention she seeked. She jumped from bed to bed in an attempt to define her being, to prove the worthiness of her existence. Like jelly, she fit perfectly into the lives of so many different men. Like a chameleon she changed her appearance and her demeanor to fit theirs. Right now she has changed the color of her hair once again according to her next client’s desire. And so she will fit into his life as she kicks his current girlfriend of 2 years to the curb.

As of today she is out of the life of both my husband and his brother. She has left to move in with her next victim. But I am sure she will still haunt me wherever I go. In my mind she will always represent the women who lack morals, and have no mercy, compassion, or remorse, for the casualties they leave behind. Heartless predators who in attempt to find their own happiness, stomp on that of others, and knowingly pursue the husbands, boyfriends, and other “unavailable” men.

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January 26, 2011

Sweet Revenge (Part II)

by bye2mrwrong

One of my co-bloggers wrote that “If another woman steals your man, the best revenge is to let her keep him.” While I’m not sure how I feel about this, maybe it is the best revenge. Maybe my husband, his brother and the mistress/slut are on the same level, and therefore deserve each other.

My husband has been looking quite bad lately. Actually I think he looks a bit like a terrorist these days. He’s become super skinny (with no woman to cook for him), he shaved off his beautiful golden hair which I loved so much (most likely to spite me), and he’s grown this long, dark heavy beard (just because he can’t bother to take care of himself and no one else seems to).

Actually I say this, but the fact of the matter is that I haven’t seen him for over a month. I know he comes home sometimes to pick up the mail; but he always does it when I’m not around. I think it has something to do with the guilt. Or at least that’s what I would like to believe.

Last night I heard that it’s over. The brother has dumped the slut and has asked her to leave his house this week. I can’t help but wonder what happened. Has the awful truth finally come out? Did he find out the child is not his? Did he catch her cheating? Has he just had enough of this twisted threesome? And what happens now? Will she keep the baby? And who will take responsibility for it?

I’m not sure how I feel about this all. On the one hand I am a bit upset. Upset because it seems almost a shame that my 10 years have been wasted and are lost, for this one-year, short-lived, and terribly agonizing relationship they had. I want to just scream at both the brothers: Was she worth it? A part of me would even prefer that they would endure this miserable relationship, full of lies and deceit, a bit longer.

But on the other hand I am pleased; pleased that this distorted relationship has crashed in their face, and will be their downfall. That now as the truth comes out, and eyes are beginning to open, this family will be torn apart by their own doing. For so long it has been me who has been falling apart. Finally I can sit back and watch them come undone. I wonder if this is karma beginning to show its face, if this is the taste of sweet revenge?!

January 24, 2011

Sweet Revenge (Part I)

by bye2mrwrong

Some say an “eye for eye leaves everyone blind”, but I’m yet to meet the man who truly does “turn the other cheek” and says: “hurt me more”.

Once you’ve been hurt, it seems to me reasonable to have that urge, that yearning, that burning desire for revenge. The passion for vengeance is strong and at times even overwhelming. After all is it not natural to want to retaliate in kind to insult or injury?

Maybe vengeance is a logical fallacy of the same design as “two wrongs make a right”, but “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”. And that’s just the truth of it.

After sharing 10 years with my husband; sharing my thoughts, feelings, ideas and desires, sharing a home and a bed, sharing my body and soul; it seems to me only logical that I should want to share some of the pain that he has inflicted on me.

And more than inflicting pain on him, I want to inflict it on her. On the mistress, the slut who has stolen my husband, my life, my hopes and my dreams away from me. Even now a year later, I cannot help but grin at the thought of seeing her suffer. After all she didn’t mind sharing my man, so why not share my pain too?

Will revenge make me happy? Will it bring back justice? Will it reverse time? Maybe, probably not, no. But it might make them feel just the slightest bit of the hurt, the anguish, and the suffering that I have felt for so long now.

January 18, 2011

Déjà Vu

by bye2mrwrong

It was about a year ago when it started. One day out of nowhere my husband invited HER over, an employee from work, who he had recently set up with his brother. She came alone, an innocent visit to chat about how things were going, or rather not going. It was all so very innocent, until she brought up this trip to visit her family in England and how much fun they would all have at the soccer game there.

What? Red flags shot up in my ears. Was this how I was being informed that my husband had already made plans to go to England without having first discussed it with me? I was furious. The sparks in my eyes, and questioning looks, were answered with a casual “oh no, we were just playing around with the idea.”

But it didn’t sound like just an idea to me. It sounded more like the tickets to the match were already bought, and the plans had already been made. Politely I told my husband we would discuss the issue later, not in front of our guest. He made a little fuss… and I could see the way he was looking at her, as if to say: crazy wife – I’ll do what I want in the end in any case.

And that he did. After weeks of arguing about this trip, he went anyway. I could not join as I had no more days off from work (something he knew in advance) and I had not agreed to him going either, but he could not care less.

To me the idea of him joining his brother and his new girlfriend not only on their first trip together, but on a trip intended for her to introduce her new boyfriend to her parents; seemed ridiculous, completely absurd. Actually it was a “tad” inappropriate even. Why would he want to be the third wheel?

Skipping forward one year, I feel a complete sense of Déjà Vu. My husband just went again with his slut and his brother to England to visit her family. Once again, I do not see the point, but by now who am I to interfere? It no longer has anything to do with me.

Still I find it strange and utterly distorted. Has he not learned anything? Why would he want to be the third wheel again? Whose hand does he need to hold as she and his brother tell her religious parents that she is “unexpectedly” pregnant? It doesn’t make sense. What exactly does he need to do there with them, on such an occasion?

It makes me sick to my stomach that no one is capable of seeing how twisted this is? That no one says anything, and that I am the only one who notices how perverted this threesome relationship is. Could it be that the three of them are not sure who the father of the baby is? Could that be the reason for him awkwardly tagging along?

Whatever the reason, it seems to me that “those who cannot learn from history are bound to repeat it”.

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January 4, 2011

Is There Justice In This World?

by bye2mrwrong

People say I’m STRONG.  I’ve held it together for a year now all on my own in this strange foreign country.  When I first found out about my husband’s affair, I bit my tongue and told no one. I went into work with my head held high, did my job better than ever, put in over-time and never let a soul know what I was going through at home.

But I don’t think I’m strong at all. If anything I’m WEAK. I see now how for years I’ve been controlled. Submissive, with no backbone. Opinion less and silent. I never questioned and never demanded.

When I wanted a piano, I begged. But when he said no, I accepted. When I wanted a car, I asked, but when we couldn’t agree, I let it go. And this is how it was with everything. But if he wanted me to cook even after a hard day at work, I complied. And when he wanted me to do the dishes afterward, I of-course did what any “good wife” would. I catered to him and hung on his every word. I was “the prettiest appendage to ever lose herself”.

I only ever wanted two things: to be married and to have children.  It took me 7 years to get my husband to propose. So I assumed it would take a few more to get him to decide to have children. But in reality that’s not how it goes, or how it should have been. Other women don’t ask. They demand and they tell. The husband may be the head of the family, but the woman is the neck that turns it.

But me, I waited patiently for my husband to be ready. Needless to say that never happened, and I am now left childless and full of envy of every mother to roam the face of the earth. I know I’m still young…but I was ready so long ago.

Why do I bring this up now? Why is it all of a sudden bothering me? Because I just found out that the SLUT is pregnant. She had them all fooled. She said she couldn’t get pregnant…but it seems “miracles” do happen to some. Only it’s not certain who the child is from. My husband or his brother? Who knows maybe from some one else…

The thought that this child could be from my husband, MY HUSBAND who did not want to have a child with me, has left me weak again filled once more with anger, jealousy, and envy. She got what I had always wished for. Is there any justice in this world? Could it be that the righteous suffer while the wicked prosper?

December 23, 2010

The Glue That Holds It All Together

by bye2mrwrong

Today I found out that Christmas won’t be the same without me. And the thought made me smile! Apparently both my husband’s parents (his mom and her husband, and his dad and his wife) have decided to go away this year for Christmas. Actually I should rephrase and say they have decided to RUN AWAY, avoid the problems, and escape what has become of this totally screwed up FAMILY!

They have left my husband, his brother and the Slut on their own. In my mind this is a little bit like Karma, some sort of sweet revenge. You made your bed, now lay in it… the three of you!

Christmas is a family holiday, but this family has fallen apart. I had known it all along, that I had brought this small family together, that I had been the glue. But the confirmation of it once again still makes me grin.

My husband will never admit to it, but before I came along his relationship with his father was practically non-existent, and although they live only 5 minutes walk away from each other, they only saw each other on birthdays.  But since I’ve always been a family person, I reconnected, I sowed and I mended until those two couldn’t go a week without a phone call.

I hosted and invited, not only on special occasions but on casual Mondays just because. I called and I cared. I took the ladies out for movies, and I joined them in their hobbies. I went over the top on birthdays, and held up long conversations with parents, grandparents and even distant uncles and aunts.

But now that I’m gone, it seems that things have returned to the way they were 10 years ago. And while they may have been happy back then to be secluded “each to his own”, I’m sure that after having tasted the sweetness of what it feels like to be a real close family, now that’s its gone they may just miss it a bit.

December 11, 2010

The Emotional Rollercoaster of Divorce

by bye2mrwrong

If you’re going through a break-up or a divorce, and if you’re anything like me, you must have devoured all the articles, psychological digests, and relationship blogs there are on the topic.  And by now you’ve heard consistently that when you break up you go through pretty much 5 stages of emotions: Denial, Pain, Anger & Resentment, Depression, and Acceptance.

So having read about it for the zillionth time, I had half expected everything to go smoothly and precisely as all the articles explain. I wish I could say it was that simple for me. That the stages went exactly in that order without any hindrances or backlashes. That I could see the progression as I moved from one step to the next. But to be honest it wasn’t. Come to think of it, those articles never give a time constraint on these emotions, do they? So yes I went through those stages. But I went through them time and again, back and forth, repeatedly. Reliving the emotions I thought I had already passed over and over again.

I guess you could say that I was already in DENIAL long before I found out about my husband’s infidelity. In retrospect I can see now that I had been keeping my eyes wide shut, denying the truth for a long time. Spineless and afraid of what would happen if I confronted it, what I might lose. The signs were there, I just didn’t want to believe them.

Then when I finally did find out the PAIN was immense and it consumed me. Not only was it an emotional pain but it was physical as well. I was sick from disgust, I wanted to throw up, I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.  I screamed, I yelled, I cried.

But unlike what you read about wanting time alone – for me it was exactly the opposite. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted my husband to show me that he wanted to be with me. I wanted affection and love. Sure he had just given his love to another, but I wanted him now to give it to me. Now more than ever I wanted him to become what he never was before – affectionate.

And though you expect at this point to draw your lines, get angry, and say NO MORE, DENIAL crept in again when my husband first mentioned the D word. All I could think was “this isn’t happening to me”. I was not going to get divorced. Not for the life of me. Divorce was just not an option. I was going to fix this marriage, if it killed me. My husband would never really leave me. After 10 years together he would surely choose me over her.

But as the weeks passed by and there were no signs of repair, PAIN was slowly sinking in again. My husband was not coming to his senses, as I had irrefutably expected. I couldn’t believe that this was really happening. That after 10 years together, we couldn’t find a way to make it work. We couldn’t reach a compromise.  This time the pain was different. It stemmed from bereavement for the love I had lost, embarrassment for what had happened, shame that I couldn’t keep my marriage going, and hurt that I had been deceived. I felt like a failure. I was not a good enough wife, lover, or friend.

This time however, my pain was mixed with feelings of ANGER & RESENTMENT. At this point I was still not blaming my husband. It was not his fault. He was also a victim of this temptress. He had fallen into her spider web, through no fault of his own. I was mad at her, the girl who had stolen my husband away from me. And I was going to make her pay for it. Irrational thinking and violent ideas consumed me. I would wreck her car, scratch it, puncture the tires, or even loosen the wiring. I would tell the world who she was, and what she was capable of. I would make her ashamed to walk into work, to go to church, or even to look in her father’s eyes. I had many violent dreams and even hallucinations of choking her, of hitting her. Thoughts of seeing her and what I would do or say had become an obsession.

As time passed by I became bitter. I had been keeping this dark secret inside me for so long with no friends to share it with, no outlet to relieve the pain. I had become quiet and recluse. I had stopped calling my family, stopped meeting with my friends, afraid that I If did, I would let it all out.  The only people who knew now were my psychologist (who at the time I didn’t feel was helping as he was playing devils advocate) and my husband’s parents (who took a distant neutral stand, so as not to get their hands dirty).

Out of desperation, I began trying to negotiate anything and everything to try to save the relationship. I began compromising my true feelings. I asked him what I could do to change. What was he missing from ME in our relationship? I did everything in my power to please him. I took him out to dinners; I booked us a weekend get-away. I agreed that SHE could stay working with my husband, if he promised not to speak to her. We both knew this was not possible. I was being subservient and slowly I was loosing me.

But everyone has a red line that cannot be crossed, a point of no return, something that just jolts you out of your dream, and wakes you up. The affair had been my line, my border. We were standing right on it, wobbling from side to side. But I was trying so very hard to shut it up, to ignore it. Until he went too far, told another lie (bought the slutty red car) and pushed me over the edge.

At this point, I let everything out. And with that came relief; relief that no one was angry at me, or disappointed with me, or saw me as a failure. But with relief came the realization that the breakup was really happening and I was no longer in control. Had I ever been in control?

DEPRESSION brought with it more pain and sadness, more tears and feelings of loneliness and regret; regret for the things I haven’t done, or maybe did wrong. Questions like “Did I do everything I could?” “Is this my fault?” “Was I not good enough?” crossed my mind.

After depression came more anger, more resentment. My blaming finger was pointed at everyone. His dad for not talking some sense into him, his mom for having already taken my pictures off her wall, his brother for dating the slut (that’s another story in itself) and thus making sure that she was now an inseparable part of this family, and his friends for supporting him through HIS difficult time. I was angry at everyone and anyone that was even slightly on his side. But most of all my anger was directed at my husband. He had made the choice of having the affair, and he made the choice that he wouldn’t stop talking to his mistress, and he made the choice of continuing to lie to me. There was no excuse. Yes, she wasn’t a saint and had her share in the blame, but temptations are part of life, they always have been; and he should have just said no.

So where am I now? I’ve finally reached ACCEPTANCE. But even that has gradual stages, setbacks and at times allows pain and depression to creep in. It started with first accepting that his friends and family are HIS friends and family, and that they are there to support him, no matter what he did. Then came a higher level of acceptance. Accepting that maybe this is for the best; that maybe this affair happened so that I would open my eyes to the kind of life I was living. Finally see how I was really being treated. And now there’s the last level of acceptance. The one where I realize I deserve better, the one where I’m really moving on, going out, socializing and secretly excited for what lies ahead.

December 1, 2010

Slutty Red Car for Cheating Husbands (Part II)

by bye2mrwrong

Holding the keys to my husband’s brand new slutty red car (which I can only assume held memories of wild sex with his mistress in the back seat) I was outraged and furious. My heart was beating so fast I thought I was having a heart attack. I could almost see the steam coming out of my ears.  And at that moment, I could have ripped out his heart. Once again my husband was cheating on me, only this time with a car. I couldn’t take it anymore, the lies, the deception. This was really low! He had pretended he didn’t want another car, because he had already bought one, he bought HERS!!!

Turning to the mechanic, I smiled politely and told him that my husband would drop by later to PAY the bill.  Then I walked over and put the key into the door lock and stepped into OUR new car. Looking around inside the car, it didn’t really have my husband’s feel to it; it looked more like a race car, with black and red leather seats. Nothing like any car he had before. But it already had his stuff in there, his deodorant, his favorite mints, and a sweater I hated because I’m pretty sure he bought it with HER, lying on the back seat.

How stupid could I have been? How did I not see this earlier?
How stupid could HE have been? Did he really think he could hide a car from me?
And how could he choose a car over our relationship?

After sitting in the SLUT car for what seemed like eternity, I decided on my next plan of action. I turned on the engine and drove away. In my mind I had come up with the most devious plan. I was going to hide the car somewhere, so that when my husband would come to pick it up, there would be nothing for him to find. The idea seemed brilliant. After all as a married couple, the car belonged as much to me as it did to him and I too had the right  to drive it, sell it, or even put it on fire!

So that’s what I did….I drove the car into the middle of nowhere, stepped out, and started walking back to my own car.  As I reached my car and drove away to work, I felt alleviated. I had tricked the trickster; beat him at his own game. It was genius.

Well it was genius for the next 20 kilometers, when all of a sudden anxiety and worries flooded me. Once again my heart started pounding, and I could feel the adrenaline causing me to sweat. Could I do this? Was it allowed? Was it even legal? Could I be charged with theft or destruction of property?

So with these new thoughts and fears in my mind, I turned back around and drove all the way back, picked up the car and returned it to the car garage, where it had initially stood. But I did not return the keys to the mechanic I took them with me and headed home to confront my CHEATING, LYING, DECEITFUL HUSBAND!

At home, my husband was peacefully asleep (probably having dreams of his wild sex escapades with his slut). Quietly, I walked into the bedroom and woke him up.

Holding up the keys of OUR new Slutty Red Car in my hand, as soon as his eyes were open I said: “I know about the car. So I hope you enjoy it. You can have it; you can have the other car, and your motorbike. You can have all 3 vehicles to yourself, I’m leaving!”

That was it; I had nothing more to say. No more energy in me. Not to fight or yell, complain or beg, or even try to convince. I was all out of cards, exhausted and just done with it.

I put the keys to HIS new car next to his bed, turned around and walked out the door. As I closed the door shut behind me, I heard him call my name once, maybe twice. But what could he say that would make it alright? What explanation could he give that would make me turn around?

That evening, I booked a one-way flight back to my home country, to my parents home. After 3 months of keeping this awful secret inside me, it was time to face up to the truth and tell my parents that my MARRIAGE was OVER!