My Husband the Meth Addict

After I kicked my husband out of the apartment almost a year and a half ago, he admitted to “trying meth a few times” with some girl he had seen.  Well, over the past six months, or maybe more, he has sunken to new lows.  He was living in a house with a bunch of junkies and whores, and now he’s completely hooked on meth.  He told me before Christmas that he was not smoking it, but that they were injecting it.  I didn’t even know that was possible, but then again, I’m not a meth addict.  To be perfectly honest, meth is the one drug that totally scares the shit out of me and he knew that.

So one of the people living with him in the junkie house was pink-haired girl in her early thirties.  To see her pictures on Facebook you might think, oh, she’s pretty, but those pics are old and I’m sure by now she looks like your typical meth-head.  In fact, my husband looks like your typical meth-head now.  Well, he’s been infatuated with this girl for a while now and still is, even though he told his mom otherwise so that she would think he was serious about getting clean this time.  I don’t know what all is going on between them, other than the meth, but he’s been posting shit all over Facebook about how one day she’s the love of his life, and then next he hates her.  I don’t believe a word he says about anything anymore.

Over the past couple of months I have tried to talk him into getting help, not only for himself, but for his son in particular.  He doesn’t care about any one or any thing anymore.  He had called his mom a couple of weeks ago and she came and got him and was letting him stay with her.  I was happy about it at first because I thought that finally he was going to get the help he needs.

Well, last Wednesday he called me crying and talking crazy.  He said he was driving around and didn’t know where to go.  First of all, I didn’t understand how he was driving because he didn’t have a car.  Or so I thought.  Then he told me that his mom bought him an old car.  That is the stupidest thing she could have done because that gives him the ability to go out and get more drugs.  Then he texts me later saying that he was back at her house.  I thought all was well again.

This morning I messaged his mom to let her know that I wouldn’t make it to church this morning.  She asked me if I had heard from him because he got mad and left on Thursday and hadn’t been back.  I immediately pulled up his Facebook page and saw that he had made a post three hours earlier saying he was stuck at Wal-Mart, broke, no food, no gas, and needed help.  So I messaged him.  He messaged me back saying he was at his mom’s.  Of course I didn’t believe him because I had JUST talked to her.  After I told him that he sent me a picture back and the message “Fuck off.”

There is so much more to all this than I can write about in one post, but this will have to do.  The fact that I never could bring myself to completely stop worrying about him, or to block him from contacting me, or to stop hoping that one day he would decide to get help, has made my life stressful and depressing.  Drugs like meth do that.  They don’t just hurt the people doing the drugs, they hurt everyone in that person’s life.  I have my own issues and problems, but I was trying to help the man who I married, and even though it didn’t work out and never will, I still wanted him to be safe, healthy, and happy.  It doesn’t look like that’s ever going to happen now.

I did block him after his hateful messages this morning.  I am done with him and his fucked up lifestyle.  If his mom wants to keep trying, then good for her, but I’m done.  Meth is an awful drug that turns good people into bad ones, and the bad ones into even shittier ones.  He’s one of the shittiest.  He’s a manipulator, a whiner, a liar, a lazy bastard, and a heartless asshole.

I tried being a better, more forgiving, more helpful person and to keep hope alive, but it’s dead now.  He probably will be soon too if he doesn’t go get some real help at a rehab facility.

I’m sorry I haven’t posted in such a long time, and that my first post back has to be about my meth addicted soon-to-be ex-husband, but sometimes life is shitty and people are shittier.  Sometimes, you just have to let that shit go.  That’s finally what I’m doing because if I don’t, it’s going to kill me too.

Until next time…

Peace, love, & happiness.


My Band of Ex’s and O’s

Somehow I just managed to realize that I’ve dated a lot of damn musicians.  Enough to have my own band.  So here’s who would be in my band…

Teacher.  Duh, he teaches music full-time and is a professional musician.  He plays just about every instrument, but he’s amazing on guitar.  And, he sings.

Art.  I’d put Art on keys.  He can play guitar too, but he has more of a piano kind of vibe to him.  He’s a….Cad.  Yep.  That’s the word.

Bluegrass.  Ah, shitty old Bluegrass.  Unfortunately, he’s the only banjo player I’ve dated.  Being from Alabama, it would be a sin for me not to include the banjo in my band.

Rocketman.  I can’t even be mad at Rocketman anymore.  He was a sweet guy.  He just had some major issues.  He was a bass player, like me.  He committed suicide five years ago.

Ok.  So far we have guitar, keys, banjo, and bass.

Last, but not least, is drums.  This is going to have to go to Redbeard.  As far as I can recall, he’s the only drummer I’ve dated.  He’s also a tad crazy.  Today he posted a series of FWB memes on his Facebook feed.  Here they are for your enjoyment:

This bitch be like, “he crazy and needy.”

I didn’t respond in any way.  He’s just not worth it.  I’m sorry for breaking his heart, but he’s not alone in that.  There was a line of heartbroken guys before him, and there will be more after.

Until next time…

Peace, love, & happiness.


Pirate Play

So it turns out that Redbeard is less this…


And more this…


He sent me the following message tonight:

“Hi, sorry for the slow response. Just been doing alot of thinking. It’s time we need to say goodbye. I’m not mad or upset, just wanting more than fwb. I hate to do this via messenger but I don’t even have your number. I really like you but you just don’t want what I want, and that’s ok. Your a cool lady and I hope you find what your looking for. Goodbye, Miss [Ginger].”

Without really thinking it through, I immediately replied:

“Ok. I’m not surprised. I figured you’d dump me before your birthday. Good luck. Bye.”

That was the end of our communications.  Either I’m a damn ice queen now or I really just don’t give a fuck anymore.  It’s kind of nice.  I think I’m finally becoming an ADULT!  Just kidding.  That’s never going to happen.

I’m just not ready for husband #4.  I don’t mind dating someone, but what’s the rush?

I’ve finally got a job that I love, a groovy apartment, a great family, and the internet.  How could I possibly need anything more?  This living single shit is awesome.  I don’t have to wait to get into my own bathroom in the mornings.  I don’t have to rush.  I don’t have to make my bed if I don’t want to, and if I do, it’s because I honestly do want to.  I don’t have share the closet!  That’s a big plus.

I smoke, I drink my sweet tea, and I watch any damn thing I want to watch on television.  Life could always be better, but for right now, this is pretty pretty pretty pretty good.

Until next time…

Peace, love, & happiness.


It’s all good

As it turns out, my “happily ever after” consists of me living alone and just having a side dick. That’s all I need. Since I kicked my husband out back in September of last year, I’ve been thoroughly enjoying having the apartment to myself. I don’t have to compromise on closet space or how much time I spend in the bathroom in the mornings getting ready for work. The apartment stays clean, and if the bills don’t get paid I have no one to blame but myself. Thankfully, the bills are always paid on time now that I don’t have a man-child to support. So I’m glad that I didn’t get the “happily ever after” that I thought I wanted.

I turned 43 at the beginning of this month. I took a 3-day trip with Redbeard to Gatlinburg, TN and even though it rained off and on the whole time, it was relaxing enough and it got me out of the apartment for a few days. I also learned that more than 12 hours with any one man is just too much for me.

Back in March, I told you about Redbeard and how I didn’t think it was going to work out with him, for a few reasons. Well, after Doc Oc moved away I was left with only Redbeard. Brendan Fraser had already faded away. Brendan texted me a few times, but I never made an effort to see him again. So once things settled down I started hanging out with Redbeard again on a weekly basis. Since I was concerned about him possibly being a mooch and just coming over for the beer and weed, I decided that if I didn’t offer any to him and he still kept coming around then I could make it work.

The sex with Redbeard is excellent. When it comes to that, I really can’t think of anything to complain about. I always get what I need, as does he, and then he goes home. I don’t have to wait around thinking, “Oh, God. Is he ever going to leave?” We sometimes fall asleep after, but then he always wakes up a couple of hours later and then leaves. That leaves me to watch the latest episode of Game of Thrones that was on earlier that evening. Come to think of it, I believe that as long as a man doesn’t throw off my TV-watching schedule, then we’re good and I can live with that. 🙂

One of the ladies at work asked me if I was going to drive 5 hours to go see Doc Oc. I told her no, and she asked, “Well, isn’t he worth it?” Again, I told her no. He’s cute and all, but the sex just wasn’t on the same level as it is with Redbeard. I told her that even though Redbeard isn’t rich or great looking, at least the sex is great and we can have a conversation before. (I’ll admit that he’s actually quite good-looking for a ginger-man. I still don’t prefer ginger men though.) It’s not like I’m trying to marry any of them. I just want to get laid and then send them home.

I also want to tell you about my job and the joys of working at a beauty school, but that will have to wait for another post. There’s just too much to tell.

Until next time…

Peace, love, & happiness.


Babe, I’m gonna leave you

I promised a follow-up to my last post.  Better late than never, right?

For the past two months I have seen Doc Oc occasionally, usually once a week.  About one month ago he came over one evening and as we were sitting on the couch he said he needed to tell me something. I immediately got nervous, thinking that maybe he had a girlfriend or wife.  No such luck.  He told me that he was moving back to his hometown, which is over four hours away.

My heart sank.  I thought I had finally found a guy in this crappy state that I not only could tolerate, but actually liked.  And now he’s leaving me.

Of course this is the guy who I thought could possibly be a serial killer.  He isn’t, of course.  However, he’s a very quiet person, much like myself, but even more so.  I told my sister that now I know what it’s like to date me, and it’s awful.  And I don’t mean that negatively against him.  I just know that quiet people are difficult nuts to crack.  We hold in so much.  All of our emotions and feelings, hopes and dreams, thoughts and beliefs.  Introverts can be extremely complex people.  Personally, think I do better in relationships with extroverts, even though those are the one’s that usually don’t work out.

Anyway…Oh!  I haven’t even described Doc Oc to you yet.  He’s sexy, in a nerdy hipster subdued kind of way.  Think Robert Downey, Jr. meets young James Spader.  His ass though.  Thank you Jesus for this boy’s ass.  It’s so grab-able.  He’s also intelligent and funny.  It’s just that he doesn’t open up and talk much, which I do wish he had done.

Oh, well.  The good ones always go away.  Or I go away.  Someone always goes away.

My prayer for the day:

“Jesus, just send me Bruno Mars…or Sting…I’d accept Sting also.”

Because I could fuck the hell out of some Bruno, or Sting, right now.

Until next time…”It’s only half past the point of no return.”

Peace, love, & happiness.