Category Archives: Ex Files

The Ex-Files – You Can’t Cut Noodles In A Bowl!

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It had been an extremely busy day! I was running a Day Care in our home so that I could pay the rent and put food on the table. Since CP wasn’t working I really had no choice. He was too good to go out and find a job, any job, to keep our heads above water. He was resigned to sitting and waiting for his last employer to call him back to work. He had been laid off for months! Landlords want to be paid. Kids need to be fed. What the hell is wrong with this man?

On this particular day, I had 7 kids altogether, two of them were my own. I was taking care of kids ranging from 8 months old to 5 years. I wasn’t just babysitting. I ran my Day Care like a preschool. We had planned activities throughout each day. I didn’t want the kids getting bored and I wanted them to go home having learned something and ready to tell their moms what they did at Debbie’s house that day. I didn’t want them just sitting in front of the tv all day.

The last kid was picked up at 5:00pm and that was my time to prepare dinner for my family. CP came home around 5:30pm and normally I had dinner on the table at just the right time. If he decided to eat, that is. More than half the time he just went to bed. There was never any conversation or interaction between me and CP or he and the kids. His job was finished, so ended his responsibilities for the day.

This day, however, he showered and actually sat down to have dinner with us. It wasn’t anything fancy. Grilled cheese sandwiches and ramen noodles, simple and filling. My daughter was about 5 and my son, 2. They were hungry from playing and socializing all day. I always got my son’s food ready first because he was smaller and just couldn’t wait as long as my daughter. I gave him 1/2 a sandwich and a bowl of ramen that I had let cool and cut into shorter pieces. Those noodles could be quite long and hard for little kids to eat.

My daughter was anxious for her food, but her sandwich was still in the pan. The ramen noodles were done so I scooped her up a helping. I sat it on the table near CP and asked him if he could please cut her noodles for her. His answer was remarkably stupid and I’ll never forget it. He said, “You can’t cut noodles in a bowl!” I asked, “Why the hell not?” He just looked at me and pushed the bowl over to our daughter. I was pissed. I grabbed a fork and a table knife and marched over to the table. I proceeded to cut the noodles as if I were cutting a steak. Then I moved the noodles around and repeated the same thing. I said to CP, “That’s how you cut noodles in a bowl. You’d think I could get just a little help from time to time because as you can smell, I’ve just burned SR’s sandwich.” I gave him the burned sandwich and started a new one for SR.

He ate his burned sandwich and as we’ve established in the last posting of The Ex Files, he was too big of a coward to say or do anything. Oh, except pout. He pouted while he ate and then he went to bed. Goodnight, asshole.

The Ex-Files – Cowardice

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The last few months with my ex were a bit stressful but my baby sister was there. She and her son, a baby at the time, needed a place to stay. I don’t recall the situation that led to that need, but she moved in with us. CP didn’t have a problem with it. I figured I could help her and she could help me. It was nice having another adult to talk to. Heaven knows CP wasn’t adult enough to fill that need.

I had enjoyed those first few months of my nephew’s life. I was there when he was born and I felt very close to my sister and to him. When we moved, I hated leaving her behind. She was still living there and I thought CP would at least be polite and kind to her. She wouldn’t be in his way, after all. He would be working most of the day and would possibly not even see her at all. What was to happen still pisses me off to this day and proves exactly the coward that man was and probably still is.

Not too long after we left, my sister had been out for the day and when she got home she couldn’t get the front door open. The key turned, the door unlocked but something was causing it not to open. She pushed and the door budged just enough to find that all of her belongings were stacked in front of the door. Apparently, CP had come home, found her gone, and proceeded to pack all of her stuff and block the door with it.

Not only did he not have the balls to ask her to move out, he never once took into consideration the baby he would be making homeless! My sister had packed a diaper bag when she left the house that day but she had planned to be home that evening so there was no need to bring all of the diapers, all of the baby food, or blankets, or extra clothing, etc. She needed those things! How dare he block the door to prevent her from getting in! There she was, stuck with none of the things necessary to take care of a baby.

I knew CP was a jerk but I never realized how big a coward he was until that night. If he was too chicken to speak to her in person, he could have left her a note telling her that she needed to find another place to live. It would have been better than what he did! Thankfully, my sister was able to rely on the baby’s other grandmother, and she eventually retrieved her things from the house.

What gets me is, how the hell did he think she was going to move out if all of her belongings were preventing her from entering the house? Not only was CP a coward but he was a real dumbass, too!

The Ex-Files – Pay Day Pizza

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We had a ritual back in the day. On payday, we would either go out and eat pizza at our favorite place in town or I would call and order the pizza, then pick it up.

This particular payday, I ordered the pizza and planned to go pick it up 40 minutes later, when they said it would be ready. CP was home, sitting on his ass as per the norm. It was the only night of the work week he didn’t go to bed at 7:30 pm. If I’m being honest, I much preferred the nights he came home from work and went directly to bed.

My daughter was hungry and my son was just a baby, so I’m sure he had been fed already. My daughter (aged 3) always liked to go bye-bye with mommy, as most daughters do. I had no problem taking her with me because she was always a good girl. I thought, however, that my lazy, good-for-nothing partner (now ex, thank goodness) would at the very least offer to watch the baby while I went after the pizza. I wasn’t about to ask him because he always acted like I was inconveniencing him by asking him to do any freakin’ thing. Of course, he didn’t even bat an eye. No offers to pick up the pizza, no offers to watch the baby.

I got the kids ready and headed out the door. When I got to the pizza place, I got the kids out of the car. I carried my son in a carrier and held my daughter’s hand. I believe I used a fanny pack back then because I didn’t have enough hands to be carrying a purse! We went inside, and after a bit of a wait, paid for our pizza and headed out the door.

But before we got out the door, I realized I had a baby in one hand and the pizza in the other. How was I to hold my daughter’s hand? I was, at that very moment monumentally pissed at CP. I stopped just inside the door and asked my daughter to hang onto mommy’s shirt and to not let go for any reason until I told her to. I also explained why I couldn’t hold her hand. Thankfully, she was smart and understood.

We got to the car, and I strapped the kids back into the car. I was fuming mad but hiding it from the kids. Why the hell couldn’t CP have offered to watch the kids, or at least the baby? Well, the answer is simple. He was a thoughtless and inconsiderate SOB!

When we were almost home, I told my daughter how proud I was that she held my shirt like such a big girl, just like mommy asked her to. She said, “Thank you, Mommy,” and she smiled so big and bright it almost made me forget what an asshole her father was.

Almost…

When we got home, I helped my daughter out of the car, put my son in the carrier, and grabbed the pizza. My daughter was already in the house, holding the door open for me because she knew my hands were full. As I entered the door, CP was just sitting there with a look on his face that I was familiar with. That look indicated to me that he was irritated for some reason.

I thanked my big 3-year-old, thoughtful helper for holding the door. She said, “You hands are fulled up, mommy.” Even a 3-year-old can think! Why couldn’t her father? About that time, CP piped in and said something about how long it took. I don’t recall his exact words but it pissed me off, whatever they were.

I said, “For your information, it was a bit crowded there tonight because of a boy’s baseball team celebrating their win. And to top that off, I was struggling with full hands -baby in one hand, pizza in the other – all while trying to keep your daughter safe because I couldn’t hold her hand in the busy parking lot!”

CP’s face changed to a more angry look and he started to speak – but stopped, thought about what he was about to say – and said, “All you had to do was ask and I would have gone for the pizza or watched the kids.” To that, I replied, “I shouldn’t have to ask you to do things to help me or to watch your own children so don’t even give me that crap!”

CP grabbed a few pieces of pizza and went outside to sulk. When he came in, he went to bed without a word. I felt like I was raising 3 kids, instead of 2! He must have scarfed that pizza down like a starving dog because my daughter and I were still eating, and enjoying every bite! Of course, hers were tiny and mine a bit bigger.

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The Ex-Files – The Electric Bill

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In my home town, our electric company would send a notice to shut off power if and when your bill became 3 times your average monthly bill. So if my average bill was $100 and it reached $300 without being paid, then a shut-off notice would arrive in the mail.

When this happened, and thankfully it wasn’t often, I called them to make payment arrangements. That way, I could keep the power on until CP’s next paycheck, at least. They were good about working with their customers. It wasn’t often that our electric bill would get out of hand because I was the one in charge of paying the bills. Later on, when CP took over, he wouldn’t even open the damn bills!

This particular time I got behind on the bills because of doctor visits and we had to pay out of pocket because we had no insurance. I figured I’d just “rob Peter to pay Paul” as they say and as I had done many times. We were living paycheck to paycheck and sometimes we didn’t even make it. Borrowing money from my Dad or my Grandmother became par for the course.

When the shut-off notice came I really didn’t want to have to borrow money yet again, so I tried the old “rob Peter to pay Paul” bit and I just couldn’t quite work it out. Too many bills that pay period. I was able to extend the shut-off date by about 5 days, so that was something. I explained to CP the situation, and he told me in no uncertain terms that he would take care of it and was sure his uncle would help us out. Of course, I was skeptical, knowing CP the way I did. I made sure he knew the shut-off date, day, and time (which was by 5pm). “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

It was Monday and 2 weeks had passed. We had until Wednesday, 5pm to get the bill paid. I reminded CP. He got that ‘pissed off for being reminded’ look on his face that I wanted to smack off with a cast iron skillet. I knew what I had to do because I knew what was going to happen. Just like always, I was the one who had to take care of everything.

I borrowed the money to pay the electric bill from my grandmother on Tuesday and went to the electric company office and paid the bill in person. I was relieved but pissed that it fell on me, yet again. I didn’t say a word about borrowing the money or paying the bill to CP when he came home that day. He had had 2 weeks to go see his uncle about borrowing the money. He had come home by 1pm nearly every day both of those weeks. What does he do? He waits until the last possible freakin’ minute, just as I knew he would.

He came home Wednesday, a bit later than he had for the last couple weeks. It was 3pm. He went in to take a shower. A good, long hot shower that lasted for an hour, I might add. It was now 4pm. He came out of the shower, got dressed and while putting his shoes on he told me he was going to his uncle’s house to borrow that money. I was so freakin’ angry I told him, “Don’t bother. I already took care of it because I knew you wouldn’t.” He started to raise his voice and say something. I interrupted him, “You and I both know that IF you got the money for the bill, by the time you get to the electric company office to make the payment it would have been closed and our power shut off. That’s what happens when you wait until the last fucking minute!” He was pissed, which I knew he would be. How dare I not tell him I took care of it already? How dare I cause him the extra work of taking a shower! I knew what he was thinking but he knew better than to say it out loud.

You see, he was a coward for such a narcissistic asshole. He knew that if he started an argument he would lose. He also knew better than to hit me because I told him after our second date so many years prior that if he ever did hit me, he’d better make it good because when I get up he’d be the sorriest son of a bitch that ever walked the face of the Earth.

Go me, right? It worked. He never hit me, ever.

The Ex-Files – I Don’t Do Pockets!

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In the very beginning stages of my relationship with CP, not too long after I let him move into my apartment with me, I had to make a few small requests/suggestions/rules, whatever you want to call them.

  1. No dirty, smelly car parts in the house! He thought he should be able to store his smelly car parts in the house and/or in the closet. No way. This isn’t a garage.
  2. No dirty, smelly car engines in my closet! He seriously wanted to store an old car engine in my closet! As if he was doing me a favor by not putting it on the carpet in the living room, which was his first choice for storage.
  3. If you leave dirt, grime, grease, hair and other gross shit on the soap bar, please wash it off! He really thought it was ridiculous that he should have to wash off the soap bar. He said he’d never heard of such a thing. BUT I shouldn’t have to wash my hands with someone else’s greasy, grimy yuck and it looks like shit.
  4. When your alarm goes off playing music in the morning at 4am, please turn it OFF because I don’t have to get up until 7am! The alarm going off, playing music at 4am was fine but to leave it on was inconsiderate. I didn’t have to get up that early and I couldn’t sleep with music blaring mere feet away from my head!
  5. Empty your pockets when you put your clothes in the laundry because I don’t do pockets! I had asked him to check his pockets before putting his clothes in the laundry. That is unless he wanted his wallet washed. It’s really not that hard.

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None of the things I asked of him were that difficult and it was pretty much just a matter of common courtesy. I was pretty easy going back then and not too hard to live with. I was a people-pleaser and bent over backward for that man. The least he could do is to be considerate. Right? Was I being too harsh? Pffttt….

Ok, so this post is about the emptying of pockets. I had actually checked a couple of times before throwing his clothes in the washer and another time I just happened to feel the weight of something and it caught my attention. All saves. Each time, I reminded him that I don’t do pockets and he needs to remember to empty them.

One time, (it was the LAST freakin’ time) he didn’t empty his pockets and I didn’t check because… umm… well, I forgot to check. I didn’t think anything of it and I threw his clothes in the washer. Oops! Haha! His wallet was in one pocket and a couple receipts in another. Not to mention all the important things you might find in one’s wallet! It contained his driver’s license, cash, phone numbers, business cards, photos, social security card, membership cards, etc. There was shredded paper everywhere!

When he came home I told him. He was pissed. I reminded him, “I told you. I don’t do pockets!” He responded with something like, “I don’t know why you can’t check the damn pockets!” Seriously? I told him, “It’s simple. I’m not your mother and you’re an adult!”

His response to that was, “You are kinda like my mother. You cook for me, clean for me, do my laundry. You take care of me.” Are you freakin’ kidding me? I asked myself. Wow. I told him, “I am not your mother. You are responsible for your own shit. I didn’t move out of my parents’ home to have to be mommy to a grown ass man!”

He had to replace everything. Serves him right. He should have listened. He never left shit in his pockets again.