The Toad of Darkness pays a visit to the Blog!  

IamWetFire 52F
739 posts
8/15/2006 2:09 pm

Last Read:
9/20/2006 7:40 am

The Toad of Darkness pays a visit to the Blog!

Why, hello there, Toad of Darkness, my beloved old ex-husband. I was wondering how long it would take you to track me down on this site. I'm only surprised, once having discovered "fresh meat" here, that I didn't get some lame proposition and penis photo from you. Oh, but that's right! You still have the same handle you used to cheat on me here while I was your wife! So, I blocked it the minute after I joined. I couldn't block you from my blog, but then, I don't think I want to. Maybe you need a reminder from someone who loved you long, well, patiently and tolerantly, that you really do have issues.

I have a few questions in my mind, every time I visit this site and see that you've been here that day as well. I can just see you there, sitting in N's house, sneaking around behind her back as you did behind mine. I can only shake my head and feel this overwhelming sense of pity cover me like a shroud. If you fuck it up royally, try, try to fuck it up royally again, and again, and again. Are those your "words to live by?" You credo or mantra?

Very sad.

Does N let you sit around at your computer in nothing but a T-shirt, IMing and webcaming with women, as I did?

Does she lay in the bed you share with her, alone, as your pager goes off and you have yet another emergency surgery to run off to–-which is, in fact, just another pussy call or swingers event–-just like I did?

Does she greet you warmly, with caresses and kisses and welcome you back into the bed you just betrayed, the way I always did?

Does she tell you how much she loves you, even when you're cold and dismissive, when you yell at her, make fun of her, put her down, and behind her unsuspecting back tell other women about her "pussy as big as a bucket," and how she "just lays there" and doesn't know how to "give head worth a shit," just the way I always did? (Yes, Toad, I have perfect recall, but you know this since you were my husband for 15 years!)

Do you call her on your cell as you're coming back from these encounters with other women, as you did me, professing your love and needing reassurances like a lost child who's just found his mother in an unruly crowd? And does she give it, the way I always did?

Do you spend money on plane flights and hotels to make time with swingers in other states, all the while she's sitting home, hoping you're safe and eagerly awaiting your return, like I always did?

Or, perhaps by some miracle, you've worked that dark swamp magic of yours upon her and she’s joined you in your "lifestyle" choice. Does she lie for you when you tell people you're disease free, as I did? Does she still let you fuck her without a condom, just like I always did?

Poor old cow, she. But you do have this thing you manage to do to women, despite the fact that you are homely, skinny, awkward, vulgar and crude. You make women laugh. . .before you make them weep and doubt themselves and their sanity. And laughter is still the key for me. I think it must be for all women, else how on earth could they overlook your world-full of drawbacks. A large penis only gets a man so far, especially if there's no skill or compassion behind it. Making women love you must be the best survival mechanism you ever developed.

Too bad you don't have more of your father in you. I've often thought how fortunate it was he died before you became a debauched caricature of yourself. He was so proud of how far you'd come, how much of a man you'd become in your marriage to me. The disappointment of seeing you throw it all away with both hands would've have broken not only his heart, but his faith in you, which was always deeper and far more forgiving than your mother's.

She's the one who told me–-right in front of you-–that you were a liar, a thief, a selfish son of a bitch who would use me and make my life hell. I hated her for those words because I loved you and believed so very much in you. But, since you are so much like her, she knew you and spoke the unvarnished truth.

While I would not trade the world for our travels, the adventure that was Team "G," I would give just about anything to not remember you at all. Or what you put us both through. You had everything, but it was never enough. We had the very best of times and you single-handedly turned it into the worst of times.

I've forgiven you, but I can NEVER forget. Not the pain, the cruelty, the humiliation, the fear and the struggles I continue to face. And, surprisingly enough, the thing that cut me the deepest was your betrayal of your uniform and your oath. That I will NEVER get over or forgive. You took off that uniform, took a shit upon it in the town square, then wiped your ass all over it to finish the job. How DARE you! If nothing else, your own struggles to get that uniform should've taught you more RESPECT. That was my father's uniform. That was my uniform, too!

"An officer does not lie, cheat or steal, or tolerate anyone who does."

Do you remember quoting that to me so many times? Was that just a joke-–like everything else in your life?

You will never know the shame your betrayal of that oath and that uniform I've felt and continue to feel. Everything we were and all our combined efforts were for YOUR career. I threw away parts of myself left and right, waiting for it to finally be my turn, so that YOUR career could be enhanced and pushed ever forward.

It was more than the adultery, Toad. It was more than the cruelty; the vaginal tearing, the clawed gouges, bites, bruises, the humiliation of being photographed naked by the police and then having those photos in the hands of God only knows how many people before the travesty came to and end. It was more than knowing everyone in town knew before I did. It was knowing that 15 years and our combined struggle, sacrifice and efforts meant NOTHING. Not one thing. I’ve never felt so devalued in my life.

And as you continue to attempt to make of me a non-person with your form letters, your used and rumpled envelopes and rag-tag collection of old stamps, I am filled with the most overwhelming pity for you. All those months in violent-abuser counseling did nothing for you. Taught you no patience, tolerance, humility or kindness.

While I struggle even to buy enough food to eat, my suffering is nothing compared to yours. How horrible your existence is that you cannot fill one moment, one millimeter of the emptiness inside yourself. So, like some stray dog, you're forever roaming, thinking that the next lamppost, the bitch over in the next yard is going to silence the deafening roar of your own self-loathing.

I may not have decent transportation, adequate healthcare, enough money to pay my bills, or even buy enough food for myself, but I do have one thing you've forever lacked: I love myself enough to be alone with the sound of my own thoughts.

Good luck in your search, my old beloved. You need it. But I can say without a doubt you will not find what you NEED on this website.


Addendum: Something must've hit home. Rainbowseeker20 turned off his ad, thank God!



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