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You know what? Fuck you. Yes, I knew we were together for eight years. Yes, I married you. Need I remind you Mr. Free Spirit, that you didn’t want to marry me in the first place? You said it was unnecessary. You used me constantly and saw no need to change, you took the car, I walked to work, you used MY money, and MY account. I took care of you when you couldn’t work. You AND your friend BOTH freeloaded on me. And while I took care of you you pushed me away physically and emotionally. I went through poverty for you. I dropped out of college for you. I fought my family for you. And in the end you spent six months living in a house with me and barely talking to me. You talked at me. It was always what you wanted, what you liked, what you wanted to do. Everything I loved, everything that interested me, my hopes and dreams? Those were pointless. I was egotistical for wanting to be around other artists. You “didn’t know what to do with me” when I was so depressed I didn’t want to drag myself to work for another day of routine and being screamed at. The caring, kind, interested man I married went to shit. I spoiled you and when I tried to stop spoiling you you pouted and fought and whined like a goddamn child. Then she came into my life. And I felt love and acceptance again. She appreciated me and made me realize I didn’t have to always be that good person that takes care of everyone else. That sometimes I need someone to take care of me and NO ONE was willing to do that but her. Not you. Not my parents. Not my friends, what few still wanted to be around me with you around. ONLY her.
Someone finally, FINALLY not only found my art, my talents, my stories to be good but fascinating. She loved my talents and helped me improve them. With her my art output tripled, whereas you were always interrupting it. You couldn’t STAND that something was taking attention away from you.
Then the three way happened. Not because I PUSHED YOU INTO IT like you’ve been telling all your idiot white trash friends. It was because you’d been complaining to our freeloading roommate about how you wanted one so badly. YOU were the one telling me to “Go get’em tiger.” You were the one pushing me upstairs with her. Encouraging it. Didn’t think I’d like it did you? Didn’t think I’d fall in love. Didn’t think I’d realize what a FUCKING PRICK you had become. Well I did. And oh ho ho HOW you tried to fix it. Tried to be like you were. Tried to be a good guy again. But you failed. YES she was hard on you. But it was too little far, far too late. And the moment you thought things were getting back to normal you’d be an ass again.
She loves me better than you, appreciates me better than you, and YES she is better in bed than you. And now, she’s working to repair what eight years with you did to my self worth. And guess what? It’s fucking WORKING. For once in my life I feel I can stand up for myself. I am PROUD of what and WHO I am.
You walked out on me because you couldn’t handle the three way you’d joined and didn’t have the heart to step up and ask me to stop it. You still don’t believe I love her. You think we’re just really good friends.
Also, dick move telling me how to contact you for the divorce and then cutting off said contact. Thought you were pretty desperate to get that done. Apparently NOT.
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Posted by jeff 26th June 2013
It’s your fault for not breaking up with him. Don’t blame him because you love loser badboys (like every woman).