Sex & the Single Woman: Your Cheating Heart
All week we will be posting stories from Sex & the Single Woman’s Worst Boyfriend Of All Time contest. The winner with the most comments (minimum 5) wins a Breakup Gram from Girlfriend Grams. Start voting now, or email email@example.com to share your own bad boyfriend story!
I met G. in 2001, and fell madly, deeply, soulmatey in love with the guy. I had a son from my previous marriage, and he was okay with that too. He wanted to be a rock star, and oh, he wrote such pretty, pretty songs. We agreed I would work to support the family while he took care of the house and made music. Also, any and all extra cash we had? It would funnel his way, to help his burgeoning career.
We decided to have a son. Then another. Flash forward a few years, and G. still hadn’t even finished recording one CD. Also, he’d had to start working when we had child #3, and he was bitter and resentful. In 2007, he finally got a cool restaurant job where he made some cash. He also had it made with the boss’s wife, as they started a big life-shattering affair, right after I miscarried our third baby.
He brought the affair partner into the house. Called me “bat shit crazy” for thinking something weird was going on. Told our friends I was losing it to have so little trust for him. My best friend even believed the two of them, who proclaimed their innocence and batted their big, lying, cheating eyes. The best friend and I had the hugest falling out because she found them so convincing. And, amidst all this, G. got me pregnant again. (If you’re counting, this was the fourth time in six years.)
I guess the stress started getting to him, because he started physically hurting me. He was punching walls, chasing my oldest son, staying out ‘til 3am.And all along, I was “making it all up” that something was wrong. He was seeing an individual counselor, and lying to him about our situation! I was bending over backwards trying to make him feel better, because he was all over the place with his words, actions, emotions. I felt so bad, and even worse for him. The personal counselor made him make a pact to stop seeing this chick who was “only his friend” due to the danger that it was an emotional affair. My best friend developed breast cancer, and G. and his affair partner kept working to keep her from talking to me again, thus validating their innocence and my unwarranted persecution of them. Breast cancer! That didn’t even stop their great, dark, secret love!
G. stopped being so present for our kids, as he was busy sleeping with the mistress at the dog park in my family’s minivan. He moved out, because he wanted “time” and “space” as he just “didn’t know who he was anymore.” The police actually took him, as he’d grabbed me by the neck and dragged me down the hall when I was crying so hard and freaked out. The cheater chick left her husband and told a friend she knew would come clean to the hubby, and left town. G. got fired. At Christmas. The girlfriend gave him over $3,000 to pay his personal bills, and they moved in together, and left the children and me literally with nothing. (Except my best friend, who came back into my life, and felt really stupid that they’d duped her.)
I had a C-section, and wasn’t supposed to be alone with the children for six weeks. I was able to line up about three weeks of help. G. didn’t help, he and his affair partner had gigs with their Blondie cover band. (Yes, that really happened. I know, it sounds absurd.) I begged him for cash for bread and milk; he said he had none. I saw him out buying beer and wine. I approached him, crying and yelling, begging some more for help, so he tried to get a restraining order, which was denied.
And so on. His girlfriend took me to court accusing me criminally of cyber-stalking, as a form of vengeance or something when he got arrested in September of 2008 for once again assaulting me. Her attempt at criminal charges didn’t stick, but damn, they tried. Over a year and a half in public, and she’s still paying his bills, he works for her mom, and also has to babysit him when he has our kids, because he hurt one of them too. (The hurting is never “enough” to merit full action…little bruises, it seems, are the way to go?)
I almost forgot—every untoward thing that’s happened is entirely my fault, always. I even deserved the affair, because I am awful. I deserved the physical violence, I deserve…blah blah blah. I am actually custom fitting my crown, sash, and scepter right now. That’s a lot of power these people have given me over their obviously ridiculously unhappy lives!