My Major Mistake

Okay, I can admit it now. Hands down, I was a very easy ‘mark’ for Mr. Cheater Pants—especially due to the fact that I wasn’t his first rodeo. Imagine that …a person who ghosts a long-term marriage having a shady side? Well, butter my biscuit!

In all seriousness though, a major red flag that I was all too willing to overlook when I was in the throes of all my crying was the fact that he’d practiced his schtick a few times—no doubt honing his craft of love-bombing on a few other girlfriends/fiancee’s prior to me.

Interesting [but not so mysterious now] is how both of these women were from families of a higher socioeconomic class. For example, one fiancee’s father was a local doctor. The other fiancee is the woman that he ended up ghosting me and running away with to end our marriage. I affectionately refer to this woman in my writing as ‘Satan’s Mistress’.

She now has the illustrious title of Mrs. Cheater Pants. Oh wait—she refused to take his last name. Imagine that. Apparently, she is the daughter of Mr. & Mrs. ‘Got-Rocks. I picked this nicknamed for them because my husband always made reference to the fact that they ‘had money’. He always bemoaned that they had offered to pay his way through college and he turned it down—something that bothered him all through our marriage, based on how man y times he lamented about it. As it turns out, they both passed away a few prior to my husband reconnecting with said daughter/old flame. Think, think,  think, said Pooh. Is she was an only child, who did they leave their assets to? Ah yes, said daughter—possibly adding to the attractiveness to my husband. Of course, this is just my opinion.

Slumming Were You, Darlin’?

In light of his illustrious past, and his shenanigans when he so callously ghosted me, I was left scratching my head wondering why he was ever interested in me in the first place. No doubt, it was because he was fresh out of better options.

Other than working my way into a six-figure job that I worked up to 80 hours a week to maintain in the last decade of our marriage, I had no prestige to speak of. All I can surmise is that he must’ve been having a series of ‘off’ years. Perhaps like a baseball player, he was trying to break out of a ‘slump’. LOL. Simply put, to target me back in the 80’s, he must’ve felt that he was looking at scraping the bottom of the barrel. I had no money, no pending inheritance to be used as a dowry, and my relatives certainly were not doctors. Hmmm … Shrug … Who knows?

But then—when you look back at it—he wasn’t exactly batting a thousand at that point, either. He’d just gotten himself kicked out the military ‘for the good of the Corps’ and was living in a rooming house on the not-so-nice side of a dying city. To make things worse, Mr. Cheater Pants was having to work for minimum wage. Poor Pumpkin.

But Even Buzzards Have To Eat I Guess

In any event, he swooped in—and like a dolt—I bought his schtick. Overtaken by fined-tuned and ebullient fake love-bombing and all his romantic-comedy moves, I was swept off my feet—-convinced that I’d found my soul mate. But then as I heard someone say one time: a true soul mate will never seek to take yours.

Oh well, we live and learn. Below is a video I did regarding this.