My Wives

Warning: The following page contains graphic, descriptive violence and adult language and is not intended for children, adults with weak stomachs, expectant mothers, people with weak hearts and may not even be suitable for print.

My First Wife

I don't know when and I don't know why, but I met my first wife around the same time I met cocaine.  Soon after, I introduced them to each other, and the three of us had a love triangle.  We got married, in my opinion, because we were doing drugs and having sex, and both of us were were both young and dumb. It seemed, at the time, like the next logical step.

We got divorced over jealousy. I thought she liked the third party in our love triangle more than she liked me, and she felt the same way about me. So, it was over.  Actually, she was also doing my "boss" at the time, so it all worked out for the best.  I have absolutely no ill feelings toward that lady today.  I have no idea where she is or what she's doing, but if I ever bumped into her, seeing her doing well would not bother me, at all.   In fact, it would make me feel just fine.

The Second One

My son's mother, on the other hand, who I hate to admit was wife number two, is a different story.   A waste of skin.  A black hole of a soul.  A cheating, whoring, racist coke whore whose only contribution to humanity was my son.  Had I known when I allowed her to have primary custody of my son that she had already lost two children to a former husband for being deemed an unfit mother by the court, I never would have allowed her the chance to get away with keeping my son from me, the way she had from mid-1999 until he decided he wanted to move in with me in 2006.

I have this dream:   One day, after whatever skeazy scheme she's working up in that worthless, trailer-trash mind of hers, on her way to wherever she intends on going, she finds herself speeding, uncontrollably, down a major highway.   Because Karma is a redhead, she crashes, head first, into an oncoming gasoline truck. Her car bursts into flames.  Her seatbelt won't open.  The steering wheel presses against her chest.   She gets trapped in her car while the gas and flames spread all around her.  

But it all happens so slowly that she smells and feels every single noxious, burning and painful minute of it.  And just before her certain demise, the paramedics and firefighters show up.  She watches as they try to gain entry.  Gasping and writhing at every passing second.  Getting a first hand view of her skin charring like a Dairy Queen hamburger.  Finding it harder and harder to breath as her lungs fill with putrid, noxious gasses.

The rescuers finally reach into the car and attempt to pull her by the arm from the embering remains.  But as they grab her flame-broiled appendage, she watches as the extra crispy limb breaks away, the skin marbleizing like a Texas brisket, and falls lifeless from her body and crumbles into a pile at the feet of the fire fighters. 

Finally, when she is able to be removed and the flames are extinguished, she lives just a few days longer, feeling every painful breath and nerve ending, as if the cosmic righteousness of the Universe attempts to get even for all the nastiness this drek has flung at the people, places and things around her as she skid-marked her way through, what she called, a life.

I didn't try and come up with this dream. It came to me of its own volition after years of exhaustive effort to try and patch up the marriage with this pookyak for the sake of my son. I was a good father to him and I didn't want his family unit to fall apart. But with this woman there was no patching it up. She refused to discuss anything in an adult manner. I was living an emotionally and spiritually dead existence. The physical and mental stimulation wasn't worth sharing about either.  It seemed as though she used me as someone she could blame for every problem that she ever had in her life.

What's too bad is that the children have to suffer because selfish cunts like her and my mother's daughter, two total wastes of life who know only how to quick rig themselves.

After she moved out, but before the divorce, she engaged in a one-sided war of words, slandering me to her mother, my son, those who used to be our mutual friends and anyone else who would listen, including the police.  This lady had the almost jocular reputation among my friends, neighbors and co-workers as having me arrested every six months, "whether I needed it or not".

One such typical time period, after following the letter of the law to the tee, I received a court order allowing me to take my son out of state to visit with his grandmother.   The Cunt-essa of Doom was given an itinerary, copies of the plane reservations and phone numbers for where we would be staying.  All of which was beyond what the court had deemed necessary once the order was written for the visitation.

Upon my return to the regularly scheduled place of exchange, I arrived on time with my son and we sat alone in the parking lot, until out of every corner of the lot police cars came barreling down on us. We were surrounded by cops with guns drawn.

This pearl of southern wisdom called the police and said that I had been stalking her for the passed week and would be in that lot at that time and that I was carrying an unlicensed gun and she was afraid for the life of her child. I had no gun.  My son had no fear (until he saw all the cops with their guns drawn).  And no one bothered to explain how I could be stalking her from 1500 miles away.

Of course the charges were dropped due to lack of evidence and the complainant not appearing to testify, but this was typical of her maniacal mind while I lived within the same state borders as her.   Why, in all that time, did no one from the judicial system ever arrest her for continuously filing false police reports, is beyond me.

Not too long afterwards she stopped showing up at our mutually agreed upon, court approved, child custody exchange location. I would call and she wouldn't answer. I would call the police and was told it was a civil matter, not a criminal one, and they couldn't do a thing.   I called my attorney and he said that even if we take her to court and they tell her to bring my son, she still didn't have to show up and there was nothing I could do.

I even moved out of state and told this skeez that I would take my son for summers and winter breaks and fly him out to me and she would never have to see me again, and she still refused.  I would call to speak to my son, and although I used to get an answering machine, even that was turned off.    I now know that the messages never got to my son. 

I've written and received nothing in return. I sent birthday and holiday gifts. I called regularly. It wasn't until my son moved in with me that I learned that he never got anything I sent.  How I ended up with this stugats is beyond me. She is so out of touch with reality that she leaves incriminating messages on answering machines.  I have included some of those recordings here (Click on the hyperlink to hear this worthless mook's irritating diatribe):

Whimpy (What most people call restraint and manners, the cunt calls, "Whimpy")

No Rights (Forget Court Orders, the cunt lives by her own set of rules)

Out of the Picture (Out of the blue she decides to leave me a message saying that I'm out of the picture)

Waste of Life (She's not even bright enough to come up with an original expression)

Most recently I have come to find out that even though my son is now living with me, and has been for the past three years, that she has been illegally accepting social security checks that should be going to my son, forging his name and cashing them and using the money for herself.  In the last three years that the boy has been living with me he has never seen a check or has his mother told him that she had been getting them.

Furthermore, he should have been receiving that money for the last 7 years, although before three years ago she could possibly have made the argument that she was using the money for his benefit.  But all told, forgetting that she hadn't signed the consent agreement until after my son had already turned 18, she still got child support payments even though he was living with me, and she was still getting his SS checks, she owes him about $10,000.00 that I know that he will never see.

Through it all, I have but this to say to anyone that finds themselves in this position:

Do not involve your child in the proceedings or the fights, even if your ex does.  And tell the child, every chance you get,  "I did not divorce you.  I never will.  I'm here for you.  I love you.";  and prove it with your actions.

Third Time, Not Quite a Charm

Actually, my third wife was quite a relief compared to my son's mother. Even she couldn't believe some of the things that my son's mother did to me or my son. And she witnessed some of them first-hand. We went on with our happy little life, and our happy little home, for a number of years.  Then the passion left.  Then the quality time was gone.  Then the fun seemed to ebb out of our marriage.

Then, one day, while we were sitting around the living room watching television, I couldn't hold back any more. I turned to her and said, "There is something wrong. Things are just not what they used to be. Things are different."   And she replied, "Bam, I don't love you any more."  I countered that there were a lot of things that we could try going to counseling for, but not loving someone isn't one of them. I asked her when she wanted to move out and how long she needed to get it together.   She gave me a time period that was acceptable and she left a few days before that.

Since then, we've become good friends.  We can talk to each other for hours.  We call one another about once a month.  We seem to be better friends now that we're no longer living together.  Even my wife talks to her if my wife answers the phone when she calls.  I also feel good when I hear that she's doing well.

Fourth (and LAST ... I hope!)

On May 11, 2003, Terri and I went to Las Vegas to get married.  This lady has been my friend, my lover and my confidant since December 2000.   And since that day I met her, she's been my good luck charm.  She's smart and funny and interesting.  She's a wonderful mother and an excellent wife.  She's quick and she's reserved.  And she loves me.

My mother called her once and said, "Congratulations.  You've now been with my son longer than any of his other wives." And another time to say, "Thank you for taking care of my son."  My father has called the house on numerous occasions and never even asked for me.  He just talked to Terri the entire call and then hung up.

Together we have three boys, from a total of four previous marriages, between us.  The boys are all about a year apart, the first born in 1989 and the last in 1991.  Then we found out in mid-2009 that Terri was pregnant.  We had a baby girl on 21 December 2009. 

Our daughter is named Isabella Noelle.  Isabella, after my aunt Isabelle, my father's only sister, who died in the summer of '08.  Noelle, for Terri's mom, who died in April of '09.  Isabella Noelle's Hebrew name is Elisheva Devira. 

I have a daughter.  Life is sweet.