x – y = fuck you

Too bad some techno-savvy guy like Steve Jobs (God rest his soul) or Bill Gates couldn’t have devised a return-to-sender button for e-mail that would be the snail mail equivalent, to when you want to send a clear message, to a sender of a piece of cyber mail that you don’t want their fucking mail AND you never read it.

The best we have today in cyberspace is  filter to trash, or a filter to spam.  All that does is just chuck it.  But that still lets the sender have the fantasy that you might have read it and then chucked it.  Doesn’t send the clear message “Piss off, I didn’t read your shit”

Yeah, you guessed right.  Even though I changed my phone numbers because of the filthy message he left on my answering machine.   He sent me an email.    I’m guessing he must have called, got the message that goes “doo doo doo, we’re sorry, the number you’ve reached is no longer in service.”  All he has left is my email as a means of contact.  But because of all his hate and venom who’d a thunk he’d want to contact me? HE DUMPED ME FOR FUCKS SAKE.

And you know what’s fucked up?

In contrast to the nasty venomous voice message, of the couple he had just fucked in some seedy motel, he also told me that he wouldn’t talk to me even if it I was dying on my deathbed;  THIS email titled,

“I’m sorry”

it went on….

Dear Lexi,

I’m sorry that things have been so harsh over the past few days my best friend.

 (his first name)
Talk about a MIND FUCK.
One minute he is an absolute asshole.   Then the next minute he is reminding me I am his best friend.  So I dial up a recovery partner, the person I feel most comfortable talking with b/c her background closely resembles my own and she says, “A best friend wouldn’t treat you like that would they.”   She intuitively knew that my brain started thinking things like ‘what if…….what if he really does miss me……or what if he really has feelings of caring.”   So I know to get my ass Straight  so I don’t lose the one day of no-contact  I have pieced together one painstaking hour at time.
It feels fucked up.  It’s this push-pull.   I hate you, don’t leave!  Or get the fuck out! where do you think you’re going?  I don’t want you anymore you disgust me, you’re my best friend.
It makes me question my sanity.  Which do I believe? Gaslighting bullshit!!!
This kind of dynamic I have lived for three and a half years.  At first it was much more subtle and infrequent.  Not nearly as flagrant.  Not so obvious.  Smaller insults that could barely be perceived as insults.  Then it became more and more pronounced but by that time, I was hooked in.  Desperate because of my need for love and my lack of self-esteem to seek out his validation, I clung to him harder.  Then he instinctively upped the ante.  He became more brazen, took more liberties.   Gave less and less affection, treating me worse and worse and til finally he knew the exact formula.   The exact amount of sadism I could tolerate without “breaking” (suiciding) and keep me bound to him.
But there’s one thing he never anticipated in his neat little fucking equation.   The unknown variable.
x= I wanted to get well.
Fuck you mother fucker.  Sit and spin,  I never responded to his email.  Best friends DON’T treat each other than way.   I didn’t respond to his email.

Litte Red Riding Whore

It’s been nearly 3 months since he dumped me. ….so into to him I couldn’t walk away no matter what a piece of shit he was.   Cheatings, beatings, lies……..  For 3 and a half years he cheated on me with various prostitutes, couples, Craigslist hookups, and a gangbangs, and as I just recently found out few men too.  None of this was known to me til the last year.  But I thought I could “fix” him.  I really thought if I just loved him enough, he would stop.  He dumped me; a faithful, monogamous woman……to go out with and fuck all them

My heart is still broken.

Last night I finally decided to have a drink with an acquaintance I have spoken with for a year by phone, we shall call him S.

He lives a few towns away.  We click on many levels, but he realized that I was entrenched, knee-deep in shit with my ex and he was busy was pursuing a married woman who was “seperated”.   So although there has been perhaps some interest romantically on both ends, the point was moot.  It has remained utterly platonic and we have never met face to face, that is until last night.

We scheduled to meet at a local pub up the street when he got out of work.

I met S at said establishment at around 11:45.  I was a bit late because I had just received a voicemail on my home phone last night around 11:30 pm from my ex.

I had seen his name come up on called ID and did not pick up.  Who knows why the fuck he calls me, he doesn’t want me anymore.  Oh that’s right he’s a sadist, he enjoys seeing me cry and rubbing my face in pain.   Foolishly, I did check the message and what I heard made me have the dry heaves.

It was not the voice of my ex it was the voice of another man,

Thanks for loaning you ex-boyfriend **** out for the night he fucked my wife real good tonight,  she really enjoyed that big cock, I didn’t realise he was into bondage he really whipped her ass real good.”   Then from out of the background the wife says “oooo I loved it……ohhhh yeah…..he fucked me really good….. oh he fucked me better than ever ……he did things I’ve never even felt before…thank you very much.”    Then my qualifier comes on the phone and says, “these folks are going home now, and now I’m going home.  Have a good night.”

So 5 minutes before I have to go and meet my new friend and our first possible “date” I am choking back dry-heaves and tears.  I am in the bathroom fanning out my eyes and re-applying make-up.   I get to the Pub and meet S.   It is noisy and so loud, the cigarette smoke when the door opens is so thick, I realise it is not conducive to conversation.   Since my son is away for the holiday, I ask S if he would like to come back to my place.  He follows me in his car.  I am very nervous as I have not had another man in my home for 3 and 1/2 years.

Things go really well for the first few hours.  We talk and enjoy great conversation.  I see that he makes some subtle advances and I begin to get nervous because I am realising I am in over my head.  Although I like S very much and find him attractive.  He does have an amazing body and beautiful blue eyes…..I am not ready.   My heart is a mess.  and if you know me, I need to have emotional involvement to have a relationship.  Otherwise he will be a one night stand.  I like S too much, I DON’T want it to go that way.  We have been friends for a year.  Not him……Not now.  But he doesn’t see this.  He continues to make advances.

First base.

I recoil.  He senses I am uncomfortable.  I apologize for pulling away from the kiss.  I feel like a line has been crossed.  I feel like I have betrayed my qualifier in some fucked up way, even though we are long since broken up and I still love him…. that only another victim/ empath would understand.  Some fucked up torch-bearer like me.  Even though I like how he feels, looks, tastes.  I feel what I am doing is wrong.   He tells me we will kiss again in a few minutes.  He is correct.

Second base.

In the pale light of the pc playlist going, I am having actual flashbacks.  My ex and S are the exact age, height, same hair cut, and in this strange light I am having flash backs of “him”.  As S is leaning over kissing me, I am actually seeing my qualifier.  It’s my PTSD (Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder) I recoil again because I am actually leaving my body. It’s too much to handle and so I’m just leaving.  S notices something is wrong and asks if I am okay and I don’t know what to say.  I tell him “I’m just leaving, just zoning out a bit.”  I am more worried about freaking S out and don’t know what to do.  How can I explain this to him.  The thoughts are intrusive.  They are flashbacks, not me wanting to think about my ex.  My guess probably largely due to the phone call I had just received.  Images of him fucking these people.  S continues puts his hand down my panties, I freeze like a deer in headlights panic and can’t seem to say anything, Much like a child who experiences sexual abuse,  body betrays me and responds anyway.     He probably thinks nothing is wrong.  But inside my mind is going wild my heart is racing out of total terror, not the excitment S is feeling.  I want it all to STOP.

Third base.

Something rises up in me and I finally I  able to get my body to execute what my mind wants to say and stop him cold in his tracks.   I take his hands and just flip him off.  I explain to him my position.  That once you cross that line, you can’t go back to being friends.  and as the words are coming out of my mouth I am simultaneously realising sadly, this man already thinks I am a whore.  This guy never had the intention of getting to know me either, the dirtbag.  He just wanted what he wanted.  Even though not one single solitary man has either touched me nor entered my home in almost 4 years.  Even though my ex has cheated on me scores of times, possibly a hundred by now, scar-ily.  I remained faithful to that sadistic misogynistic pig.   I just want to find love and these guys only care about getting off:


Once S realises I am not going to fuck him.  He goes to the bathroom, freshens up and says he is going to head out citing that is will just further frustrate us both to keep going on this way.

I tell him that him leaving makes me feel like my ex used to treat me, that unless I did something sexual, I wasn’t good enough to stay and he’d head back to his home.

S left anyway.

I feel like a filthy whore…..I feel like I have no worth.

all I wanted was to meet him and get to know him better.   Why wasn’t I able to tell him I need to have things move at a slower pace? Why can’t I set bounds?

Now this morning I have two pains.  The pain of knowing my ex rubbed my nose in some woman he fucked and how much she liked it and her husband apparently watching and liking it.  and knowing he chooses that over me.  and that he wrote me in an email that he paid $250 on two hookers 2 days earlier for their services.  How bad can I be, that he would rather be with a hooker?

The second pain is that my friend S, because I wouldn’t fuck him, left.

The message?  Unless I spread my legs I have no value to men.

This must be fucking hell.  I must have died on the operating table 2 months ago during surgery.  Life can’t possibly hold this amount of pain.


“We curse those

who broke our hearts

 till we are older

 and realise

 they had taught us

we had one.”

~Donna Williams

I am grateful that I have this horrible ache, because it reminds me I still have a heart.

Mother fucker

I am so fucking triggered tonight.

It is Thanksgiving Eve and I am is obsessed about him.

Where is he?  Who might he be with?  Is he out doing someone off Craigslist or is he

starting over with the new younger version of “Lexi” already.   Complete with 5 hour phone conversations

like he used to do with me that lasted til we both fell asleep til 5 am.

……oh Jesus Mary and Joseph….help me.

his heart is already dead, and mine……keeps right on beating.

~*~  ~*~  ~*~

In AA they have Al-ka-thons.

Don’t they have obsess-athons for me so I don’t think about him all night? It’s the mother fucking Holidays for fucks sake.

Everywhere you look people are holding hands and kissing and public displays of affection abound.

It feels like life is dousing vinegar into my gaping wound.  My heart is breaking into a million shards of glass.

Mother fucking fuck.



Confiteor Deo omnipotenti,

et vobis fratres,

quia peccavi nimis

cogitatione, verboo

pere et omissione:

mea culpa, mea culpa,

mea maxima culpa.

Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem,

omnes angelos et Sanctos,

et vobis fratres,

orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum.


~*~  ~*~  ~*~

I confess to almighty God,

 and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have sinned, through my own fault,

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done and in what I have failed to do,

and I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,

all the Angels and Saints,

and you, my brothers and sisters,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.


I don’t like change.

I’ve said this for the last 30 years.  So long now I can say this in my sleep.  Next week the Church is going to fuck with this prayer and change the words to make it “new” version of the Roman Missal.  Where was the voting process? Pfffft.  Yeah right.  There wasn’t one.  I think this is bullshit.  I’m not sure what I”m going to do.  I think I’m going to still utter the old prayers and responses while everyone else babbles on with the other shit.

This particular prayer has special meaning for me right now.

I am feeling particularly large amounts of shame and failure in my life.

So this prayer just can’t be fucked with.  It needs to remain intact.

I’ve been sleeping with my Rosary Beads at night.  They were my grandmother’s.  She prayed on them every morning.   They are almost 80 years old.  She even has a relic on there of Saint Padre Pio of Pietrelcina .  He is a canonized Saint who had suffered stigmata.  They bring me comfort.  Knowing that her hands touched them, she was the most holy person I ever knew.  Never said a swear her whole life.  Went to Mass every day.  She was a good, good person.  Always had a smile for everyone.

My soul is in great turmoil.

At a friend’s suggestion, I am going to try take a trip for a 90 days.  I need a hiatus.  A sabbatical.

I’m nervous about this trip.   I’m going to travel light.  I will bring my Bible, I need to start reading that again.  It has been years since I have read it.  My heart has become hardened.   Stubbornly refusing to go God’s way and instead going my own willful way.  Repentance is on the forefront of my mind.  To turn away from sin, change my mind, change my direction, turn towards God…..

Gone Dark

“…the devil is real

and he’s not a little red man with horns and a tail

he can be beautiful,

cause he’s a fallen angel

and he used to be God’s favorite…”

–  American Horror Story

I called him.

It used to be when he dumped me, he would always string me along with the illusion of a future reconciliation.   “Maybe” he’d tell me, “you never know in time, but not right now” which meant in his speak “I need to go out and fuck around“.   I’d be his plan B and it always seemed to coincide around the Holiday season.  When his either his bankroll wore thin for the paid escorts or the craigslist fuckwhore hookups ran dry and the swingers were busy with their families.   On craigslist there’s always the same cast of characters, there’s not an unending supply of new people.  It’s the same people with ten different handles looking for ass save for the out of towners.

But something has changed alright.  This breakup is different.

He told me never to call him again EVER.  That’s been said before but this time he told me to call his grandmother whom I’m very close to and tell her we broke up.  He always wanted her kept out of the know.  He protected grandma from things.  She lives on the West Coast.  She is in her 90’s.

I knew once I told her it was over.  That it would truly be over.  A finality he would never undo.  He said “do it I don’t give a shit, I’m done with you forever Lexi.”

I made the call, tactfully, carefully, but I made it.

She had already figured it out, since we normally phoned her together.  No dementia in this lovely woman.  She told me she loved me.  I cried.  She’s not doing well.  She recently had taken a bad fall and required a blood transfusion.  I’ve been calling her to check and see how she is doing.  I told her this was not my decision to leave the relationship…….and left it there.  She knows that his illness is getting worse (a chronic neurodegenerative auto-immune illness) and that he is hard to along with.   I left it there.  I told her I loved still loved him.  She advised me to try to let it go.

But it’s really hitting me that he disposed of me.

And the lack of closure……the “why” that eats at me.

I awaken in the middle of the night abruptly at odd hours:   1: 47 am……then again at  3:23 am.  Then again at 5:12 am……. for no apparent fucking reason.

He intrudes into my dreams.

He intrudes into my daytime stream of consciousness.

and yet there is nothing but a heavy silence;  there is no trace of him……anywhere to be heard or seen.


I haven’t been our of the house.

I haven’t made a single phone call.

I’ve gone into shutdown mode…..just gone Dark.

My eyes are so bloodshot from tears that won’t stop.  My temples hurt from crying and just when I think there’s no tears, they start again.

After I go to work. I sleep.    I go through motions of life.

If it wasn’t for my job.  I don’t know that I would be here now.


At night, my house gets quiet again and my eyes well up knowing he’s sticking his cock in some young girl not thinking about me.  Not one teardrop forming in his heart.

I just simply don’t exist.  It’s as if I never existed.  What could be worse than annihilation.  To have never existed.  Is there any worse such fate.

Than to forsake a loved one and act as if they are a stranger or less so, as if they never existed.   Or to know you were never loved that it was chicanery, fraud. you were conned.

I don’t think he has a heart.

Maybe he really is a sociopath like my shrink said, without a conscience, playing the part of a sex-addict this whole time.

A highly sophisicated con, and I was his emotional punching bag-toy that now lacks luster.

Now he’s set sail, off to find something shiny.


What have I done…..

What have I done to myself

What pain have I brought upon myself……

My God my God.

The Same Situation

Again and again the same situation
For so many years
Tethered to a ringing telephone
In a room full ot mirrors
A pretty girl in your bathroom
Checking out her sex appeal
I asked myself when you said you loved me
Do you think this can be real?”

Still I sent up my prayer
Wondering where it had to go
With heaven full of astronauts
And the Lord on death row
While the millions of his lost and lonely ones
CalI out and clamour to be found
Caught in their struggle for higher positions
And their search for love that sticks around

You’ve had lots of lovely women
Now you turn your gaze to me
Weighing the beauty and the imperfection
To see if I’m worthy
Like the church
Like a cop
Like a mother
You want me to be truthful
Sometimes you turn it on me like a weapon though
And I need your approval

Still I sent up my prayer
Wondering who was there to hear
I said “Send me somebody
Who’s strong, and somewhat sincere
With the millions of the lost and lonely ones
I called out to be released
Caught in my struggle for higher achievements
And my search for love
That don’t seem to cease

-The Same Situation-

Joni Mitchell (1974)   Album:  Court and Spark


I feel possessed by him.

Today, I do not see a way out.

I feel like Persephone, abducted into the underworld,

sentenced there forever; only allowed return to the living part of the time.