Me......hmmmm..........let's try that again.

MEEE............nope, still not happy enough, I can't even fake the shit anymore.

Ok let's face it. I started Project me to try and get out my insecurities, try to figure out just what it is that makes me tick. Kind of like sticking your face in a mirror and popping a zit that came on overnight and you have not a clue how to get rid of it without leaving a mark on your face that won't make everyone look at you in horror.

Me.......

I think I'm a moderately attractive now 44 year old who has packed on pounds in misery, I live in a state that is 800 miles from any family with a boyfriend who has his own insecurity issues. My ex-husband married the sl..er....woman (term used loosely)  he was having an affair with. I moved to be closer to better jobs (that hasn't panned out yet) and my best friend has affairs with 21 year olds. Sound like a mess yet? Yeah it is and while I have continued to maintain my overly enthusiastic zest for life, of late it's getting harder and harder to try to maintain that enthusiasm and at times I would rather run screaming "I WANT MY MOMMYYYYYY".

Ugh....can I trade my life with someone?! I guess that answer would be no because of course with my luck I would get something so much worse.

Here is the good part of my life. I am a moderately attractive 44 year old who looks alot younger than I am. I live in a state 800 miles away from any family. And I have a best friend who sleeps with 21 year olds.

Let's start with husband number 3. Yes, I said three so stop analyzing me until you hear all of it so sit your ass down, get your cup of coffee on the left of you and a cigarette in the right.  I affectionately call him F__ktard. It's been over a year now that I first started to suspect that he was doing something he should be. Well, let's face it. Your man doesn't come home until one in the morning and the only excuse you hear is that he has been out drinking and working late...well...if you're a man don't EVER use this excuse and expect your wife/girlfriend to believe a damn thing you say. Truth is a woman knows what you've been out doing before you've even done it. No, seriously, it's a woman's inherant nature to know when her man is cheating. So anyway, he came home one night (at 1 a.m.) and left his phone on the counter (big mistake, NEVER leave your phone in a place where your spouse has access to your phone if you're trying to hide things. Dumbshit.)  Of course she texted and said something innapropriate for a wife's eyes. I won't repeat what it was. You get the idea. He of course was in the bathroom relieving himself. All that beer don't ya know. I confronted him very calmly I thought. "Why is she texting you 'you @%$ me' at one in the morning?" I thought at this point his urine stream was going to go all over the bathroom. "I don't fucking know!" he yelled.  He zipped up his pants and came out of the bathroom. "she was there while we were drinking."

Ok, this is where the DUH factor comes in. Or, my favorite...."Well no shit Sherlock, but what the hell is she doing texting you this shit at one in the morning!" my voice had raised significantly by that point and I nearly threw his phone at him. It might also be mindfull to say that the woman who was texting him was also the woman he would come home and complain about. The same woman he would come home and tell me that he hated and that she was stupid because she didn't want to work and he was getting completely irritated with her. Ummm...ya!

This wasn't the first affair that he had had or that he had been caught with. But always when I would leave him there would be the constant phone calls, "I love you baby, you're the only one I love" "come back, I need you" ohh, oohh...my favorite, "I promise if you come back I'll never do anything to hurt you again."

The arguement on this particular night didn't last that long, quite frankly I just didn't have the energy for his denials. I had to work in the morning and I knew that no matter how much he had had to drink that night he would still be up early to go into the office he ran.  How did he get home that night? He always drove home drunk. No matter how much I told him not to, but don't worry, I'll get to that one later.

Here is where my best friend comes in. At this time she wasn't really my best friend yet. She's F__ktards cousin. They used to spend numerous hours on the phone talking and of course she would always hear an earful of just how aweful of a wife he had. She and I had talked briefly on occasion but our communication had stopped long before. We later found out alot about him, just by comparing notes. Imagine that! Women comparing notes! Un-heard of! For the sake of protection I'll call her Sandy. And I'll explain later how 'Sandy' and I became best friends. 'Sandy' had sent F__ktard a text asking if he had got the apartment. Now before anyone decides to jump on their high horse about the fact that I was reading his texts or looking at his phone, let me just say that if you're going to do something you know you shouldn't be doing then fully expect that your spouse is going to get suspicious and that little post on the internet is completely true, a suspicious woman can investigate better than the FBI.

The night that I saw the text from her I saw red. He, of course, had come home at midnight passed out on the couch and didn't move. Have you ever seen a woman pissed off? As my oh so wonderful lying husband lay passed out snoring on the couch I (you can't make this shit up) was like a ninja moving company.

Six a.m. rolled around and the smell of coffee brewing had awaken him. His favorite, that deep dark roast had hit him and the battle between Starbucks and the Sandman was on. I could see it wasn't a hard battle and Starbucks had won, the sandman was done for. I could not stop the curl, on my lips it looked like a sweet smile. Only it was one of those deep dark insidious smiles. I felt like a villain for a moment but I wasn't. I was a woman corrupted by anger and a hurt in my heart that didn't want to stop. I have this gift of expression that I cannot explain, which makes me so good at poker, you can never tell what I'm thinking. I sat at the kitchen table as he rolled off the couch and got up to stumble to the bathroom. he didn't look around at the living room. shhhhh. I smiled, "cup of coffee?" as he walked past me. I got up and poured him a cup of coffee as the stream hit the toilet. It does make a particular sound don't you think? He sat down across from me, the flap of his pajama bottoms opened grotesquely. I remember looking at him and thinking 'here it comes...any minute now... as took his first drink, that smile never leaving my lips as I watched him. Then he looked in the living room and saw. I remember that pleasing moment as he realized that in an instant he was no longer there. Now if you've ever seen Alice in Wonderland, and I don't mean that Johnny Depp crap (don't get me wrong I love the man but so not his best work) the cartoon Cheshire cat, the eye lids that lower and the curve of the lips go up....yes, that was my face. The bookshelf... the cabinet... the tables and chairs...all of his knick knacks we had acquired....all gone! He got up from his chair in a hurry and ran to the bedroom. I could hear him opening and closing the doors and drawers and a calmness settled over me that I was not expecting at all. It was that blissfull moment when you know that you've made the right decision and no matter what happens that calm is like a comforting blanket of security. "What did you do with all my stuff."  I imagine it was at this time that he saw the small duffel bag that was sitting on the bed with all of his toiletry items, and of course a change of clothes. "They're in the back of the truck" It came out very calmly, not a waver in my voice. None of the shaking insecurity that I had so many times before when there was a confrontation with him. This time I did not waver, I did not move. His voice began to escalate and he began shuffling his things around. I thought it almost comical at this point that he kept moving things around in his bag, going back into the bedroom only to see that nothing of his was there. I imagine it to be that moment of realization you might have when you finally see that your lies and secrets have been discovered and things were happening that you did not plan, and yet you're hopeless to stop. It's gone too far. Now I won't say that this is what he felt, that would be giving the man too much credit and I kinew him much better than that. Of course this was about the time the nasty remarks started, and still....I did not move...and the calm smile never left me.

"You'll never make it on your own you know" he managed barb number one. He moved from one room to another gathering nothing but coming back to the bag and shuffling items as though he was looking for something that had been missed.  Believe me, nothing had been missed, because nothing was left. "Where is my wallet?" I pointed to it on the table. "I'm not coming back this time, ya know that right" he said as he grabbed his bag. I said nothing, the smile still there. I simply looked at him. "You're fucking incredible, you know that?" He said this as though it were meant to be an insult. I waited until I heard the slam of the truck. The truck he was given to drive by the owner of the company. The nice new fancy truck for the job that I had talked him into taking. I walked to the door and made sure that it had latched and then promptly locked it.