So, I thought I had bid adieu (and good riddance!) to Mr. Anderson, but then, out of the blue at 3am one morning (on the 21st, I believe), I had the Extremely bad fortune to be up with my phone near me when I got a text from him that said, “Please don’t call me, message me, or knock on my door.”
I, pissed off [and knowing he was just drunk and baiting me for a conversation because I hadn’t called him, messaged him, or knocked on his door in over a week], replied, “NO PROBLEM, Buddy—I’m Truly Sorry that I EVER cared about YOU at ALL.”
He replied that my caring about him was only “An Illusion”, so he wasn’t worried about that.
Now I’m going from Pissed off to FUCKED off.
I reply that NO (!!), it WASN’T, and that I had loved him very Much, and SO had my KIDS. AND that my freakin’ CATS even fell for him!!
(THIS Bitch DOESN’T FAKE IT. EVER.)
[I don’t have the time for that shit. You only live once.]
I DID make sure to put the “love” part in the past tense, and the reason that I said it at all was because I get super sick of Asshole Guys (after the fact) convincing themselves and everyone around them that really, women are just a Cancerous Blight that viciously somehow TRICK these Poor, Innocent boys with Golden Hearts and Nothing But The Best Intentions into falling for them, when the TRUTH is that it’s YOUUUUUUSUALLY THE OTHER WAY AROUND.
[An aside—that reminds me—Mr. A—I know you’ll be reading this at some point, Soooooooooooo this Gem’s for you, HONEY:
While I was looking around for my Pearl Rabbit one day at your house, I came across your Diary—I read how you likened me to a “Malignant Tumor” that just needed to be “cut out of your life”, and went so far as to say that it didn’t hurt even one little bit when you did it, as if I had meant less than nothing to you. Snip-Snap. All Done.
BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTT…………………AFTER THAT, there was the Super-Intense, Ultra-Passionate, Hours-Long, Wild Animal SEX that you had with me the very next WEEK that left marks on both of us (no apologies if any of them Scar, hon), while YOU were calling out my name (In Soprano, I might add) when you ORGASM’D (Yup—I’m making that one Caps and Plural).
I’d like to remind you that you also Earnestly Professed Your Deepest Love (and Apologies!) to me with all of the Fake Sincerity your Teeny-Weeny Little Black Heart could Muster.
What Fucking Bullshit!
But You’re Right, Hunny-Bunny—I’m the Sick, Twisted One who “cares about nobody but herself.”
Boo-Hoo And UnTrustWorthy Too.]
So, in any case, I’ll cut to the chase because we all know where this is going:
He said all the right things, I made “Terms and Conditions (NO INVOLVEMENT WITH THE KIDS),” and we decided to have another go at it—albeit cautiously. He said that he had “trust issues”, I said that I had “patience issues (like Grow The Fuck Up already, decide what it is that you want, and stop jerking me [and my kids] around).”
We called a truce and agree to meet the following night when he got off work—after my kids were in bed—I had told him I didn’t want him around the kids until we saw how this panned out, so absolutely NO overnights.
As far as I can tell, this was Sunday night, Feb. 21st.
I point it out cuz’ you’re gonna love this timeline. Gawd.
Mon 2/22/16 11:30pm
He comes over, we talk and laugh and of course, end up having sex. He goes home. We make plans for the following night.
Late night sex, laughter, and bonding. He goes home, reminding me over and over again about how MUCH he had MISSED me. Aaaaaaaaaaaaand how Strikingly Beautiful I am and bla-de-bla-de-bla…..
He tells me he loves me in a text message, but doesn’t know “when or if” he’ll be free tonight.
[I learn later that this is because Ex-girlfriend is coming over—they have plans to catch up and drink Jack Daniels together—they had spent Valentine’s Day together and rekindled THEIR relationship as well!]
During this time, I text him that it doesn’t matter how late it is, I’ll be up (I am moving soon, and have a lot of work to do after the kids go to sleep). He leaves The Ex at his house, comes over to mine for a quickie (That wasn’t all that quick—we’re talkin’ approaching a couple hours. That was spent NOT talking.), then goes back to her, telling her it was “a work thing.”
He comes over late, same deal.
I am kid-less for the weekend (happens once a month), and we decide to spend the weekend together—me at his place. When I question the Jack Daniel’s bottle (he’s usually more of a vodka drinker), he tells me that it’s his work buddy’s and asks me if I want any. I basically stay there until the 29th.
We are getting dressed after even more sex sometime in the mid-morning into afternoon and there is a jolly knock at the door. He freaks out, runs to the door and then back into the bedroom and tells me to “SSSSSHHHHHH!!! Be Quiet (!!),” because The Ex is at the door.
I respond that I don’t really give a crap, and if he wants me to get rid of her, I’ll be happy to answer it, but either way, I have an appointment to get to.
After considering that, he finally answers it himself, and upon returning, tells me that he has, “Gotten rid of her,” as if she is nothing more than nuisance vermin. He continues that he can’t believe she is even at his door, saying that all he had done was have “one conversation” with her following our break-up.
What really happened is that they had spent Valentine’s Day together, and she was coming to surprise him and pick up her bottle of Jack Daniels….
He tells me to smoke inside so that she doesn’t see me and even goes so far as to ask me to lay down in the back seat while he drives me to the appointment that I have to go to imminently.
I, appalled at the notion of feeding into this nonsense, tell him that, NO, I will not be doing Anything Of The Sort, and that I’d be MORE than happy to WALK to my appointment if he can’t get his panties untwisted enough to drive me.
He apologizes profusely and tells me that he can’t even believe that he had said that, it’s just that he has a lot of anxiety when it comes to The Ex. I scoff and say that I can’t believe that he had said that either, and we don’t speak for the rest of the day, which it turns out worked out well for him because then:
He is propositioned by a certain Judge in this town’s daughter, who is an attorney (and probably was in his graduating class) and decides to take her up on it. I wonder how her family and clients would feel about her shagging the pizza delivery boy “on the quiet,” behind his (several) girlfriend’s backs. (I hope she’s not married!!) I don’t hear from him at all, but don’t care because of our last exchange.
(The 8th Anniversary of my first daughter, Kaylee’s, Death. Her ‘Angelversary,’ my friend Sparkles would call it.) I don’t tell him in advance. He shows up late, we start talking and are in deep personal, memory-sharing conversation until wee hours. I start to believe that maybe he is sincere in his efforts at being a Whole Adult Person. (WHUPS.)
He comes over after the kids are in bed, we have Marathon Sex until almost morning and both oversleep. [He had told me that he had to be to work early, and I had an annoying court thing at 9am.] The boys wake up before he leaves, I fight with myself over whether or not to let them see him…….I do.
They jump around and show off for him for a bit, he leaves, saying he has to go to work, telling them he will see them later.
After I was done in court, I decide to walk the boys across the street to his work so we can say hello. He isn’t there.
We don’t have plans because I have my daughter overnight. He makes plans with another woman, but tells me he is at work late and then has more work stuff to do later. My daughter gets sick enough to need to go to the ER around 12am (stomach bug—couldn’t stop vomiting), and I don’t want to wake up the boys and have to take all three of them, so Meldin babysits while I call Mr. A and inquire if he can give us a ride—he does. He also brings me back home at around 3am, but makes up see-through excuses not to stay and acts sketchy and nervous.
I, distracted because of all that has gone on that night, don’t pick up on the cues.
My phone is shut off because I need internet to keep it on with a pre-paid card once monthly, and before he leaves, I manage to make a plan with him that he will at least stop by in the morning so that I can make phone calls regarding rearranging and checking on kids and plans for the weekend—I am in the middle of moving, so Lilly went home from the hospital with her dad. He acts flustered, but says that he will stop by before work around 8am (I’m pretty sure the place doesn’t even open till noon) and leave the door open so that I can use his internet while he’s at work because, “You’re worth it.”
He accidentally leaves his phone behind.
I, elated that I can maybe get online, pick it up, wondering if he needs it and maybe there’s a way to get the message to him that I have it. I know that he and his work pals are pretty tight, and so it would make sense that they would be at the top of his messages list, so I push on the icon for text messages.
The first two things that caught my eye were TWO messages where the last thing that was said was, “I love you,” sent by two women that are definitely not me. One in Arizona (who he’s never met, but tells her that he has plans to move there and loves her—she is job searching for him), and the other The Ex that he always refers to in an annoyed and disdainful manner, making it seem as if she was some sort of cross between an abused puppy that just wouldn’t quit asking for it and a crazy lunatic out of Fatal Attraction.
Intrigued, I scan through some other messages and see the planning of the interlude with the Judge’s daughter.
I roll my eyes, throw the phone in a DG bag, and hang it on the mail box with a note that says, “Mr. Anderson—You’re NOT WORTH IT.” and go to bed, assuming he’ll pick up the phone before I wake up—it’s now 4-ish in the morning, and I’m Beyond Exhausted.
In the morning, the boys and I get up and go about packing more stuff to move—the phone remains.
I, finally getting pissed off that it’s still there—(UM, thought you had to work, HON.) decide to pay The Ex a phone call to at least give her a heads up on what’s been going on.
We talk for almost an hour, comparing notes on what had happened and when, and disbelievingly reminiscing about all the times he had said to both of us, “I’ve never said this before to another woman, but….bla bla.”
I guess along with being one of the Biggest Asshole Narcissist Womanizers on the Planet, he also has Relationship Amnesia.
I’m thinking my next post will be something along the lines of an All Points Bulletin to Women Everywhere about his personal characteristics.
Ya’ know, like a Public Service Announcement. Just doin’ my duty as a Responsible Citizen and all. 😉