I have been getting a lot of followers lately; which is kinda awesome, considering I haven’t posted in like 2, 738 years.
Let’s do a recap of everything, so I can give you a rundown on this amazing inmate of mine.
We started dating in December of 2013. He was, of course, incarcerated, and would be until May of 2017. Long time,right? Well, I ended up getting pregnant, because I was unfaithful and it pretty much ruined our relationship (for obvious reasons). Anyway, a month after he disowned me as a human being, he called and wanted to make things work. He forgave me and we were happy. Times were still tough due to him being in prison, but we did it. He built me up for years telling me how much he loved me and trying to get me to trust him. I had trust issues because I had been burned so bad in the past. (which is another reason for cheating on him…I figured he was doing the same and I didn’t want to get to close) Well, the day he got out, he came home to me. I picked him up from his gated community. He collapsed in my arms and we cried together.
Here comes the bride; big fat and wide. Here comes the groom; skinny as a broom. (He and I are both scrawny lil fuckers). Oh damn, did I just say a wordy dird??? Excuse my french!
Anyway, two months after helot out; we got married. We moved up to his hometown area even though his family told me it was not a good idea. I went to his family reunion and we had an amazing time. I was inducted into the family. Oh my goodness I love his family. We got our own house and finally were able to start our life together as we had imagined it to be. We had been in the townhouse for a little under a month when he died.
Ok, he didn’t die. BUT, he did stop coming home, having sex with me, lying about where our money was going, and emotionally abusing me. Does this sound like a concoction of the world’s famous “I’m cheating” juice, or what?
I’m not lying. When I say “emotionally abusive” I mean he would tell me I looked like a slut when I wore my makeup a certain way. One of my favorite shirts is a black one that hangs off my shoulders. It shows no cleavage at all. Every girl has at least one of these shirts, but when I wore it; I was a slut. He would snap his fingers at me “get over there” “move, get on” like a dog. He even called me a “fucking idiot”. He would yell at me over absolutely nothing. But, guess what? I was a beaten dog. I made sure he had lunch and dinner. I made sure he had clean clothes and a bed with clean bed sheets that was made and ready to crawl into. I made sure our house was clean, so he could be proud of something when became home.
Here’s a backstory on the “beaten dog” comment I just made. Way to many times while he was locked up; he told me I acted like a beaten dog because of how I feared retribution from him. For example; I would be hesitant to say something that I knew would upset him. “You’re being really mean.” Simple stuff like that. He would use the analogy as a beaten dog that is tied up on a porch and the owner beats him him so the dog cowers down each time he sees his owner. However, the dog still remains loyal.
I am using a hell of a lot of semi-colons today. I haven’t been in school in I don’t know how long. Am I even using them right? I feel like I’m being over-zealous with the punctuation over here!
Anyway, one day he decided that I needed to come to my dad’s. For those of you that have been keeping up, you know that I am visually impaired so I cannot drive. For those of you that are just now reading this…you know that now. On our way down here, he told we were taking a break. I was crushed and could’t stop crying. I begged him many times to pull over. He wouldn’t. Is that kidnapping? Just kidding. I know it’s not. When we got here, he left and never came back. He did, on the other hand, tell me he was kicking me out and moving another girl in.
When I went to get my stuff; she was there and some of her stuff was , too. I threw it out the door and went crazy. I ended up getting arrested. I was in jail for a whole hour. Crazy, huh? It’s ok. I was so pissed that I didn’t care.
Also, let me refresh your memory. I use to not cuss at all. It was really rare when I would say such words. Now, though, I don’t give a FUUUUUUUUUU-dge.
Well, I was destroyed, obviously. My marriage was ruined. I lost my house, my independence, my happiness, my daughter. (The story bend that is not necessary, but it had to do with jealousy and to spite me.) So, I was completely at a loss. I remember asking him where I was suppose to go, what was I suppose to do. He just left me high and dry. He spent all my money…I literally and nothing. My dad rented out his house, so I was basically homeless. You know what he told me? “Figure it out.”
I do, however, have a roof over my head for now, though, so no worried.. Oh, and I have my daughter back.
Anyway, for a few months, he would tell me he missed me, loved me, wanted me to get pregnant so that he could move me back in. He would come visit me and all that jazz. I got tired of being strung along, because that’s all he was doing. I knew it, but I ignored it. I loved him with all my heart. I missed him.
I now know that what I miss was the connection we had. I loved being able to be hyper and giddy and talk in weird voices and be myself without being judged. I missed having someone to lean on and someone to cater to. I miss how we could be super weird together and how we were playfully mean to each other. “Hey stupid, what are you doing?” It was just fun. I t was all said with a smile. That’s what I still miss. I miss being able to be myself with someone that can keep up with me.
Well, I later found out that he had been telling quite a few other women the same things he was telling me. He also told them that I was a piece of shit wife who had men over at our house all the time in the bedroom. He made it sound like I was the bad guy, while I was home alone making sure he was happy…and he was out doing everything wrong in the book.
Long story short, we are done and over with. One of the only ways to get me through all of it is imagining he had died. If you really think about it, though; he has died. The man I knew was replaced with a heartless narcissistic asshole that lives off of lies. He gets off to it, I swear.
I said “long story short” like this was a short post. I’m so silly.
Well, so there’s the rundown of things. I guess since people have been following, I will start posting again.
I should probably change the name of my blog to “In love with an asshole.” I’m not going to, though. The whole point of this blog is to…well…I don’t know. I started out with it being more of a documentary on how things were going, but since things are over; I guess I should find new material. I still have a few that pertains to it, though. So, hold your horses!!!
What’s that 3OH!3 song?
“Don’t trust a hoe, never trust a hoe; won’t trust a hoe.”
Well, that’s all folks!