[Another writer suggested the idea of smudging the house with sage to cleanse it of the gunk from the affair and the whore involved. It’s a great idea, especially in a case like mine where it was phone-fucking, or texting all the time, all over the house.]
“I love the smudging. I may need to do that. I’ve had the “joy” of learning this weekend that my WS (probably soon to be xWH) would text his whore while he was in bed with me. Me!
He took photos apparently of everything near and dear to my heart and sent it to her–as if it was *his* work (big fat joke there, since he rarely lifted a finger). Even my beloved dog.
What a jerk.
‘Course I don’t think the dog will take too well to being smudged!
It’s 3+ months since D-day–the day he dropped the bomb on me and casually said, while drying dishes, ‘hey, I fucked Shannon at Reunion.” and he STILL hasn’t told me all the truth. It’s trickle trickle, dribble dribble all the time. Like some poor old guy with a prostate problem, really. Possibly, if I’m really lucky, a foretaste of his life.
Today he actually tried to convince me that 1 conversation he had with a friend about how crummy he thought (I) and our marriage was–never telling me of course–heavens!–was only one, when 2 months ago he swore it was many.
Poor lil’ dearie can’t even keep his own lies straight any more. that’s when you know they’re desperate, I guess. the Marriage Counsellor has demanded that he write it all down, and wow, is it ever making him crazy! (He’s even ‘remembering’ things he had ‘forgotten’. Ever so Ever so convenient] The best part is that he gets all puffed up and indignant when you say you don’t believe him. “What! you don’t believe me! what! (pout, cry)” As if he has any claim to be in the same state, never mind zipcode, with the truth, at any time. yeech.
hellflamesandpoppies 