This is unrelated to my previous train of thought. But I need to vent. And this is the perfect outlet.

My husband leaves to do lawncare before I wake up. He gets home in time to have lunch and then shower and head to his “day job”. He works the day job until midnight, gets home and goes to bed.

On weekends he typically does lawncare most of the day. I see him for lunch and dinner typically. And we spend the evening watching shows on Netflix.

I get no time to myself. None. I can’t even check the mail without having to worry if my son is going to open the screen door and let my stupid ass puppy loose.

I shouldn’t complain. My husband works hard so that I can stay home and raise our child. But for fuck sake. A little bit of a break would be wonderful.

It’s almost 1 am and this is literally the only time I have had for myself today. My son just laid down for bed with my husband. Just before my husband got home my son made a big ass mess. Candy all over the kitchen. My husband walked right by it, completely ignored it and wandered off to bed.

I can’t even get a little help. And yet somehow he wonders why I am so stressed. So irritable. So on edge. And never in the mood to put out. Why the fuck would I want to please him when he can’t even help me a little?

Want to know how I spent Mother’s Day? I went to see my family, with my son, my husband stayed home so he could work – supposedly. When I finally got home the house stunk so bad like rotten garbage. I asked why he left the trash can full all weekend, with left over food and dirty diapers in it. His response? You were the last one to throw something away.

I had to drive to the Chinese place to get my “special dinner”. And when I got home I was lucky enough to eat and then clean up the mess. Just a fantastic day.

He couldn’t even be bothered to help bathe our son. And when I asked him to grab some pajamas? He complained that he had just got comfortable on the couch.

Sometimes I think that I would rather be single. It seems as tough it might be a little easier.


That hair

He came to my house that Monday. I was nervous but I didn’t let it show. I was working on putting my son down for a nap so I told him to just come in when he got here.

He came in, we exchanged greetings and he sat in the chair next to the sofa. My son chose today of all days to fight his nap. I walked him around, tried laying him down in his room, walked him around some more and then eventually settled back down on the couch.

We made some small talk while I comforted my son. Was it wrong of me to want my son to nap so I could do the unthinkable? Maybe. But isn’t this the kind of shit husbands and wives do daily? Sneak away at the opportune moment to get a little action while the kids are distracted? Sure this isn’t MY husband and I am not HIS wife but we belong to someone and we are just doing what lovers do.

Several minutes passed. They seemed like hours.  When my son finally fell asleep we made our way into the bedroom.

There was something about him that was so familiar. There was not “first time jitters”. It was like we had done this 100 times before. It was like we already knew each other intimately.

That hair. My goodness. Something about running your fingers through a nice head of hair. And my god was he an amazing kisser…something I had hoped for and had been missing for so long.

It wasn’t long before articles of clothing started to get removed. I must say, I was thoroughly impressed by what was hiding in his pants.

I pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. I couldn’t stop kissing him and gripping onto that phenomenal head of hair. I wanted him more than I have wanted anyone in a very long time. I cannot remember the last time I felt that way.

He was fantastic at everything he did. He was like a fucking magician with the vag. A vagician if you will. Please tell me you get the Family Guy reference. I genuinely could not wait for him to be inside me. And let me tell you…He climbed on top of me, positioned himself and thrusted into me with the full force of his body and I can’t say that it was painful but it was certainly something I was not prepared for. The size difference compared to what I have been getting the past several years is staggering.

The sex itself was phenomenal. I din’t climax but I didn’t need to. There was a sort of passion that I had long forgotten even existed. The chemistry was something that I am actually at a loss for words to describe. I do not know if he felt the same way. I do know that he enjoyed it and that he said my “downstairs” definitely lived up to the hype – I tend to brag about it, it’s pretty amazing.

I asked if we could do this again. He said yes. 


Listen, I never thought that I would actually cheat on my husband. I took my vows pretty seriously. But this marriage…I feel like it was destined to fail. I was lied to, I was misled, I married under false pretenses. The physical attraction has long been gone. There is no passion left. 

But something awakened in me when I met this dog trainer. And it brought a hurricane like force that I could not avoid. 

He doesn’t live too far from me but it just so happens that he takes college classes just a few minutes up the road. By Friday we had decided that he’d come by between classes the following Monday. 

My husband had agreed to do some landscaping for him and as a family we decided to make a trip to his home that Sunday. To see the property and meet his family. Yeah, his wife and kids.

Things went smooth. Nice house, really nice. His wife was someone that I felt I could be friends with, strange considering I can’t stand most women. And his kids were great, my son got along so well with his youngest. 

I caught him checking me out. Which was…refreshing. To have someone as attractive as him appreciating the way I looked felt amazing. And he was almost irresistible. 

His hairstyle still very much resembles that of what you’d expect from someone in the military – high and tight. Very short on the sides and just long enough on the top to make you want to run your fingers through it and give it a nice little tug. 

The visit went well. I so badly wanted to text him as we were leaving but I kept my composure. Only a few minutes had passed before my phone vibrated. The text was from him. All it said was: “Monday.”

And there it was. That feeling. The one you get when you reach the peak of a rollercoaster and begin the fast descent. My stomach dropped, my heart was racing and this feeling of warmth rushed over me. I responded with: “Yes please.”

The beard 

So during our fourth and final training session we discussed the possibility of an extended “board and train” type program for the pup. My depression affects so many aspects of my life that sometimes, something as simple as teaching a dog to “stay” can be a challenge. 

We decided we’d talk more about it in the future and left it at that. 

And then he followed me on instagram. And sent me a friend request on Facebook. It seemed a little odd, I mean…are we best friends now or what?

We made small talk for an hour or so one afternoon and at some point in the conversation he said “I love how much you swear in all the videos you post on Facebook.” And then it hit me…

If he could see those videos, he certainly could have seen the one in which I mentioned wanting to touch his beard. Sure enough, he saw it! And when he said “So you ONLY liked the beard huh?” I knew things were about to get heavy. 

And they did. 

He asked if I’d be interested in a company hoodie, I said yes and asked if he could get me a tank top – I said that I liked showing off my tattoos. He followed that with, “and your boobs huh?” Well…that too haha. 

After awhile we talked about the mutual attraction that we had for one another. Which was quite shocking. He’s far too good looking for someone like me. He said that he had already “beat it” to the thought of me several times. And whether or not that’s true, I needed to hear it. 

It didn’t take long before things really got heavy. Full on sexting, pictures and videos. Things I’ve NEVER done before. But this guy, this dog trainer, had woken something up inside of me that had long been dormant. And I loved it. 


So I decided to get a dog. I’ve always been fond of German Shepherds; my granddad trained them in the Air Force during Vietnam and then as a police Lieutenant. 

I went and picked up my sweet girl on Valentine’s Day and knew instantly that I wanted help training her to be a support dog. While aimlessly scrolling through some local yardsale sites I came across an ad for a local trainer. I checked out his page and much to my surprise I saw that he spent 8 years training dogs in the Air Force! I knew he was the one. 

From his photos I could tell that he was my type and I thought to myself, “Fuck. I’m in trouble.”

I messaged him and after some small talk about my goals for the pup we set up a date to begin training. I had to miss the first training session due to being snowed in while visiting my sister and when I got home my husband said, “I already know you’re going to think the dog trainer is cute. Better wear your wedding ring.” I laughed, but I knew he was right. 

The following week I met with the trainer in person. I must say, he was even better looking than I had originally thought. The hair…the beard…I’m in over my head. 

Things went well. We covered some basics. We made some small talk. And we set out to meet the following week. 

The week after was also pretty great. A little more advanced training. A little more small talk. And when he took a break from training to run this cute wooden comb through his beard – I swear to god my panties hit the floor so hard they cracked a tile. 


“If I ever loved a woman, the more I loved her, the more I wanted to hurt her. Frida was only the most obvious victim of this disgusting trait.” ~ Diego Rivera

While I’m not planning to fall in love with a woman any time soon this quote seemed fitting. This person and I, we share the same trait. 

I was talking to my sister about my dilemma – about the deal I’m making with the devil. I said to her, “I’m such a shitty person.” And she responded, “We all are.”

And it brought me a sense of comfort. Not unlike a warm blanket. 

She then said to me, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” To which I replied, “Bitch. I hurt every day.” And I do. I really, really do. 

But today, I feel alive. I have an infectious smile. And although I know that it will fade fast, as a matter of fact I can feel it fading now, I need this. I need to feel…something. For far too long I have felt nothing. And there’s nothing worse than feeling nothing. 

And so it begins. Again.

It seems as though I am at a crossroads.

So here I am, digging a hole for my box. The box with my picture and that graveyard dirt. Waiting for the red eyed demon to come and make a deal for my soul.

Is that a little too Supernatural-y for you? Okay, lets just pretend the crossroads is metaphorical.

I know what I want. But I also know that what I want is so, so bad for me. I’m like a junkie, looking for my next fix. And I can picture how it’s going to play out because I have been here a thousand times before and I have lived through this exact same scenario more times that I can count. So why then, do I want to do this again?

I am working on convincing myself that this time it will be different. And maybe it will be. But maybe it won’t.

And before you start to question whether or not this is about Dan, let me help you with that. It’s not. But it just as easily could be. The feeling I have in the pit of my stomach is the exact same. The contagious smile that I have had on my face for the days is one that’s a little too familiar.

So what’s next?

A fucking baby?

Once a month, maybe every other month, it seems that Dan gets this bug up his ass and wants to message me to hang out. For some reason I always respond to the messages. And sometimes I even entertain the idea of meeting up with him. Which is wrong, I know! But I honestly could never go through with it, even though it always sounded really, REALLY fun.

Last weekend was no different. I got the standard “Hows it goin” text. And that’s always the first text. Always missing the apostrophe between the “w” and the “s”. Never the letter “g” to finish off the word going. Never a question mark to end the sentence properly.

We talked back and forth. Actually, now that I think of it, we talked randomly throughout the month. He asked repeatedly when I would be coming back into town and I had no intentions of making any special trips. But it just so happened that I was coming into town to pick up a puppy for a friend of mine. I told him on Friday that I would be coming into town Sunday and he said that we should meet up, just name the place.

That’s where it got weird for me. Up until then every time he tried to schedule a hook up he asked me to come by his house. I don’t remember the address but I can say that it would be a convenient place to stop, I would be very close to it when I exited the free-way to go to my home town or enter the free-way to head back home. But this time was different.

He didn’t say to come over. He said he would meet me. So I knew that something was going on. I knew that circumstances had changed that would prevent me from going to the house he just bought. Part of me thought that he had taken his ex back. But then I remembered him saying that she had moved on and had a baby with someone else already. So what could it be…someone else?

Funny things happen when you log onto Facebook sometimes. For example, sometimes you log on to find a status update from Dan’s mother where she announces that Dan’s girlfriend is in the hospital having a FUCKING BABY.

Even up until 6 months ago I feel like this news may have devastated me. But yesterday it just made me laugh. And it made me so fucking thankful that I didn’t fall back into that toxic waste dump that would have been a relationship with him. I guess the only thing that bothers me is knowing that I was never good enough for him to want those same things with.

But then, maybe I was too good? Maybe I was too good for him.