Friday, March 16, 2012

the dogs
The dogs whose poop I'm currently scooping

Follow the story.
Read the previous entry here.

When your living with a liar the truth never comes out at once.

It's a agonizing decent into a flaming lake which finally just consumes you.  Burning and blistering from the tips of your toes to the last stinky singed hair on your head.  It was during those times of blind confusion that the numbing sensation of depression overtook me.  I couldn't feel anything.

Then came the sweatpants and days upon days where I didn't shower or eat or comb my hair.  Missing outrageous amounts of time from work and when I was at work I couldn't focus...I made so so many mistakes.  Then there was the psycho rattle prattle therapist that brushed off his infidelity as normal.

Then came the flash-backs.  The sight of an Asian woman* sent me spiraling.  I no longer bought donuts from my favorite local shop because the sweet Asian girls face reminded me of where my husband had been.  I associated every Asian* with hookers.  This is the trauma-induced coma from infidelity.  The humiliation and terror settled in as I retreated from my normally social life to a placid-faced hermit.

Friends called but I didn't answer the phone or return text messages.  I let the unimportant fall life naturally simplified itself.  My sweatpants were a comforting blanket as I lost myself in books and chowed on a diet of only Oreo's and milk (now my son's favorite meal).  His plummet of lies began after my nightmares and his trip to the country-that-must-not-be-named.  First it was just a strip club, then just a blow-job, then it was just one girl, then two...

"who is this man i married?"

While I was defenseless and lost in depression he decided to fulfill another some big dogs.

"No," I said.  "It's not the right time.  We're on the verge of a split-up.  I can't handle the burden.  Lets focus on us and on our kids."

When he arranged the adoption from a local rescue shelter (oh, he's a very responsible pet owner) I knew.  I knew he would do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to do it.  No regard for others as long as he was satisfied.  I cannot fathom feeling so entitled.  This is why I resent cleaning up their poo-mounds in my backyard.  It reminds me of the selfish lying jerk who faked an honest life with me.

When your living with a liar the truth never comes out at once.  Six months after discovering something murky about my spouse's loyalty he confessed.  Over the last 5 years he'd been having sex with prostitutes. Every single one was Asian!*

5 years.


That's when I kicked him out and had the rip-roaring fire that reduced his underwear to ashes.

*I must apologize to my Asian sisters.  It's not you, it's him.  My thoughts aren't right, this just happens to be the ugly truth.  I'm sorry.


  1. I relate to you on so many levels. I am soooo sorry for the pain this loser jackass poor excuse for a man has done to you. It's not fair that good women like us have to go through this agony and humiliation. I would like to meet you sometime. My email is

    1. my husband is too cheap to pay for sex... AND too poor. but I honestly don't know for sure and I don't want to know. (full "disclosure" another topic dear to my heart) He left his shit laying around for me to discover and read...over time... all of the intimate little chats, cyber sex, confessions, (gag) with faceless, nameless women that I did not even know existed. and for what? so that he could feel like a MAN?

      he claims that he didn't love them. right. He had sex with women he didn't love but the one woman he loved, he wouldn't touch.

      Its so ironic my post that I just wrote before reading yours, juxtaposed against mine. The message is basically the same, just a different angle.

      Its the subterfuge that gets us. And the fact that a man doesn't realize that he needs help, all on his own.

      help? no. why should I get help for my natural manly urges, he convinces himself. The shrink says its normal? oh my, oh my... maybe HE'S a sex addict too? We're just clueless "broads."

      Hey anything is better than being a SELFISH PIG!

      I read this blog from a brilliantly talented designer and today her post lamented how her hubbie is in Paris and she isn't-- (this time).

      and you know what I'm thinking, don't you?

      a man--her devoted husband, alone in Paris, the most romantic city in the world.

      maybe that was the subtext of her post.

  2. It's sort of symbolic, cleaning up the crap from the dogs. I love the saying "When the crap hits the fan" because the initial clean-up is the most disgusting, but for a long time after we still find ourselves cleaning up the crap in far-flung places.



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