The Beast in the Basement


I went down to my basement last nite to do some laundry and something caught my eye. I looked up and there is some sort of computer mouse attached to some other wire, which is connected to some other electronic thingy and I have no idea what it means or if I can take it down. Obviously, it’s something that Bob hooked up while tinkering with his “Beast in the Basement”, which he built from odds and ends of other computers or maybe when he was using my old ( really old) PC as his “killing things” machine – via PC games, that is.

I began looking around and thinking about how we spent more time together down there when he was moving out than we ever had before. We had so much housed there, as when we moved in, we were also moving my mom’s belongings because was in the hospital battling ovarian cancer, but we knew she was never going to make it out.

So, there was her stuff,  Bob’s, mine, my children’s, my father’s, my grandmother’s, some of each of my brothers  . . . crazy. I’m still finding things  that are Bob’s here and there as I continue to make my way thru the boxes and totes and bags stored down there.

It was kind of his domain as well, in addition to my son and his friends using it as a flop house. As I studied everything near the workbench, I recalled how after we had broken up, the day he moved his belongings out, he instructed me on how to use the Shop Vac, what cables went with what, what paint/stain/varnish was for which project, which belt was for which vacuum cleaner, what tools was used for what, etc . . .  This was true for the garage as well, but being in that basement . . . made me very sad.

He would talk and explain and look at me and with annoyance and impatience, ask: “Are you paying attention? You need to know this stuff.”  I was paying attention. Paying very close attention to the fact that I wanted him to stop. I wanted to scream “I don’t need to know any of this! I don’t need to know because you are coming back! You aren’t really leaving! THIS IS NOT REALLY HAPPENING! Look at ME! Pull me to you like did a few days before in the garage! KISS ME!  Grab my ass and make that “rawr” sound! Pull me down on the futon! NO NO NO NO – you can’t really be leaving me!  THIS WASN’T SUPPOSED TO EVER HAPPEN TO US! PLEASE TELL ME THIS ISN’T HAPPENING!!!”

But, it happened. And he never came back. And he never will.

I looked around and thought of all the projects and hours upon hours spent together at Home Depot buying supplies and watching him lust over power tools. We checked the DIY web sites and decided what “we” could accomplish (I was really just the “supervisor”) and what to prioritize. Bob did some amazing work and I am very thankful for what he was able to complete.

There was much left unfinished; bits and pieces of plans and undertakings. Every time I throw something else away, it seals the deal in my heart that Bob is gone. It makes me So. Very. Sad. So much left undone. Plans that will never come to fruition.

I went back upstairs, my eyes must have been red; my son asked what was wrong. “The usual” I said.

Because, you know, it’s so absolutely normal for the site of a workbench to make you cry.


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Before You Cheat, Consider This


‘If you have any respect remaining for your partner, the last thing you should allow, is someone undermining his or her existence. Before you decide to wonder into the next yard, I suggest dissolving the relationship. Your partner will respect this decision, far more than your infidelity.”

Originally posted on The Fickle Heartbeat:

Before You Cheat, Consider This

Shared by One Gentleman.

The grass is always greener on the other side. People cheat for a multitude of reasons. Sometimes you want to see the difference between your yard and many others, but only on a temporary basis. Other times, you want to leave your current residence on a long-term basis. Regardless of the reason and duration, take a step back, and understand the position you are putting your partner through.

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“I will never hurt you.”


Why? Why? A million times why?
Somewhere deep down is a decent guy his grandparents believed in. I  wish you could  find that guy for just 1 hour and explain to me why you did to me what you did.
Tell me just how destroying my life benefited yours.
Make me understand how as you said, I’m just a consequence of your journey for self fulfillment.
Pound into my head how damage to my health and well being is just, as you proclaimed, an insignificant side effect of you getting fucked on a regular schedule.

You could even tell me in really super- intellectual terms and I’ll have somebody translate it for me.

I really do need to know why you did this.

I need to know why the man who lied to me and told me he feared abandonment turned around and did exactly just that to me.

Here’s the deal: “I never meant to hurt you” is not an acceptable response.


Damaged goods

After Bob cheated, during one of our “conversations”, as he liked to refer to them, I was a sobbing, blubbering mess. (Well, that was pretty much my norm for months…) I looked him straight into his emotionless eyes, and asked him if could comprehend how shocked, devastated, hurt and heartbroken I was.
He looked at me and said “No. I can’t.”
A knife – no, a saber – straight thru my heart down deep into my soul.


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Mourning Us


Oh myyy . . .this:

Originally posted on The Fickle Heartbeat:

mourning us

Shared by Katie Wilhelm.

There has undoubtedly been a death in my life. However this kind of death has no official certificate validating it’s truth. This death that I experienced has no immediate wake to view the remains one last time or a funeral to pay final respects. Instead, the last few months have been a commemoration of the life that once was in which I was the one affected. Sadly enough, I was the sole mourner of this death. So although there was no ceremony, flowers or casseroles baked in honor of my sorrows, something near and dear to me has indeed passed away. And that something is us.

We are dead.

To compare heartbreak to a death is the most accurate comparison I could concoct. I cried like I was in mourning. I screamed like a part of me was missing. I ached like I lost a…

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“I put your project on the top of my list to have more reason to talk.” – RJC

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Hey Bob -

Too bad you didn’t think that our relationship was important enough to put on the top of your list.  I know you didn’t want me to jeopardize your *reputation*.   I guess by putting Vika’s *proposal* as your first priority, the two of you had that covered all by yourselves. 

But you didn’t care – and you never will. 

Why didn’t you just man up and be truthful? Why didn’t you just leave me – and my family – and move down to Rego Park? Oh. Right. Your *reputation*.  Or maybe her ex was still lurking? ” I knew you felt the same when you said ‘No talk of dividing flatware and dishes. . .” or whatever the fuck that  exact line was.

Well, I guess your ego – among other things – was being stroked, and that was at the top of your “list”. You always talked about your “life plan” and the “list”, but you never did show it to me. Maybe this is why? Interjected between “Professor”, “Tenured Professor”, “Fulbright Scholar”, “Dean”, “Provost” and “President”  – and all the others that I missed – are all of the indiscretions, past, present and future, that really are at the core of the list.  Maybe they are the glue that keeps your life interesting enough for your Mensa caliber brain. Lord knows most of the population is a complete bore to you. Myself included. (Well, at least when you’re in the “My IQ is higher than your IQ part” of your personality. I guess that’s the manic piece. The opposite of your  “I am everyday people from Chelsea MA” persona.)

I loved all of you – both sides, every side. But I wasn’t good enough for you. Viktoria is, according to you, young, beautiful, intellectual, Russian and sexy. She is everything that I am not. So, yeah, I guess there’s no way you would have ever come back to me.  Because you weren’t looking to be truly loved forever for who you really are – all the parts of you. You were looking for something else. Another item to tick off on that list of your ” life’s goals” that you never shared with me. And I wasn’t it. And I don’t think I ever was.

“I wish I could tell you just how I’m hurt
Pinpoint the location – it’s in another universe
when I close my eyes
I see a fire so plain
. . .  and my crossed-out name”


You don’t recall anything, do you?




Heard the above on the way in to work today. Better Than Ezra’s “Happy Day Mama”.

Ohhh . . . I wrote a lot of notes. . . one page, two, page, three page, four . . . It didn’t make any difference. It didn’t matter, because I no longer mattered.

Bob “played a game” that almost ended up costing me my life, on not one, but two occasions. Actually, he took part of my life away because he had been reckless and careless in his past indiscretions.  

I had a dream last nite that he was planning a trip to Ireland, Scotland and England. I knew the Glasgow and London were work related, but the Ireland piece was pleasure, so to speak. I was in the room and asked him if he was taking Viktoria along, and he said “None of your business.” I guess in the dream we were still living together, and yeah, in his “game”, where and when he fucked Viktoria and/or whom whoever else was none of my business. 

He told me her cheated because I wasn’t committed to him. I still have such a hard time dealing with that  spin. Here I am. damaged and still battling demons over a year later. 


May I contact you on your other account. What you have indicated in your emails is not true and I would like to address this issue.


Just what about my emails wasn’t true Vika? I have a huge chain of emails between you and Bob that would make Traci Lords blush. Oh- yeah – the part about how Bob told you about me and you still made advances, thus making you appear like even MORE of a slut to your coworkers, my (and his) family and friends because he had told me he asked you to back off? You know, just because, as you said, you don’t know why so men many want to sleep with you because you don’t wear make-up and do your hair all of the time, that doesn’t mean that I believe that shit. How coy you are, you Russian devil. Whatever. In the end, Bob is the one who broke my heart and tore my soul apart. He is the one whose lies destroyed me.  He is the one who left me damaged. 

Bob C wrote:
“I never wanted to hurt you–I know that I did, but that was not my intent or what I was hoping to do.”

Then, Bob, what exactly were you hoping to do?

Thank you for your recent stay at Four Points by Sheraton Manhattan SoHo Village, where you checked out on 2013-6-14.  We know you have a choice in your travel and appreciate your business. As a Starwood Preferred Guest (SPG) Preferred member, you are a highly valued guest and we appreciate your loyalty.
Bob, I would have appreciated your loyalty even more.