The Intersection Of Past And Present

A little tale about what you risk when you play...

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Sometimes in life, your past, present and/or future intersect. This is a story about one of those times. Sometimes that intersection results in something good; sometimes it results in something bad. I think for me although it was very tough at first, it clearly resulted in something good, but I'll let you decide. My name is John Carpenter, I'm in my early 30's and I'm an accountant. My adult life started out like many others: after graduating from high school and not having a clue what I wanted to do in life, I enlisted. No, I am not going to tell you how I became a Seal or a Ranger or anything remotely close to that. At 5'9" and 150 lbs, I wasn't really Seal or Ranger material. The army didn't really know what to do with me either, so they made me a clerk, a bean counter. Fast forward 4 years. My enlistment was just about over and I was deciding what to do when into my life came a woman who would become the future Mrs. John Carpenter. I was in San Diego and we met at the annual "Over the Line" tournament held at Fiesta Island on Mission Bay. I looked at Barb a lot during the tournament, but every time I thought about going over to meet her, a nagging thought that she was "out of my league" popped into my brain. Five foot 8, blond, face and body to die for. And in that bikini! But there was no way she would be interested in me. I mean, what did I have to offer a woman like that? But to my surprise, Barb came up to me later in the day. She said with a bit of a smile "Hi. My name is Barbara. I figured that you have stared at me enough today that you should know my name!"

Fate was smiling on me, or so I thought, and we hit it off great and about the time my gig was up, I was married. Problem was, I still didn't know what I wanted to do. Barb was pushing me hard to go to college and get an accounting degree and do all the rest to become a CPA. She wanted the whole suburban soccer mom lifestyle and it wasn't going to happen if I was delivering pizzas. Me, I was less than thrilled. Four years as a bean counter and now a life time of it? If I was being honest, I was sort of the handyman type. I was good with my hands and like being outdoors, but all I could think of was building contractor and I felt that life was too uncertain to support the life Barb was wanting. I was sure CPA had to stand for something like "crappy, pathetic accomplishment", but in the end I couldn't think of anything better, so off to college I went to become Mr. CPA.

Fast forward another decade. I managed to do the CPA thing, but wasn't very happy doing it for a lot of reasons. But I had a very happy wife, and you know the saying: "happy wife, happy life." We had bought a house a couple years after I got my license, and had had two beautiful little kids while I was in school, so all in all, life was pretty good. Barb spent a lot of time managing our lives, taking care of the kids, continuously making little improvements to the house and landscaping, etc. I typically did the hard work for her on the weekends. I was putting in more than full time, but it wasn't too bad. Most nights, Barb had something wonderful prepared to eat along with some energetic love-making two or three times a week.

One of the things that made life great was that a few times each year, we made sure to do some fun activities. I liked our mutual vacations, but late spring after taxes was always the best. Every year at that time, Barb spent a week with her sister who she was close to but who lived far from us. And every year I took off the week and went fishing. Did I mention I love to fish? They say the worst day fishing beats the best day at work and it is absolutely the truth. Some years I was hell bent to make a serious addition to our freezer, but a lot of years, I just wanted to kick back and relax. No kids running amuck, glaring computer screen or constant phone ringing. Just peace, quiet and beautiful scenery. My sanity break.

And this is when the past caught up to the present. In the spring, Barb and her sister decided to go on a cruise, something they did probably half of the years when they got together. The kids were at Barb's mom's place, which was getting to be a bit of strain as of late as Barb's mom, Beth, is retired, pushing 70 and having some serious health and finance issues. It was the second day of the vacation, a Sunday, when I got an email from Carl, an old buddy from my army days. And with that email, my life as I knew it ended. "Hey John. I'm not sure what to do my friend, so I decided to write. I'm on a cruise with the ball and chain and I saw a woman that looks a lot like your Barb, but I'm not sure. You know I've never met her, just seen the photos you've sent, but it sure looks like her. I've attached some photos. I know you well enough to know that if this is Barb, you wouldn't have sanctioned what she's doing. I'm waiting (and hoping) for you to write me back, my friend, and tell me it's not her. If it is, let me know if I can help."

While I sat there stunned, a thought kept going through my head about how while men can fake their interest in a woman so as to get her into bed, a woman can fake an entire fucking relationship. And we men never see it until we have our asses handed to us. As they say, the husband is the last to know, and the ability of a woman to fake an entire relationship (orgasms included), is why.

So here I sat surrounded by beautiful surroundings, peace and quiet looking at photos of my wife and my life in the arms of another man. They were dancing, her in an elegant slit dress, and him in a tux. They were in the midst of a deep, passionate kiss, his one hand obviously massaging her breast. In the background, her sister, who had always been nice to me, sat smiling and watching. In another photo, somehow taken from what appeared to be under a table, showed them sitting together at a nearby table, again kissing, this time with his hand discretely, but clearly, under her dress.

I sat there in unbelief starring at the photos until my phone died. After that, I continued to stare at the dead phone, the images burned into my brain. It was the cold breeze late as dusk settled that finally got me out of my trance. Carl was right, my marriage was over. Yeah, I had a good life. But unlike some of the nutless wonders on this site, I wasn't about to sell my soul to continue in it, basically getting some pussy that I no longer even wanted. I mean, the only real lasting value of pussy was that it was attached to my "loving wife" who I now knew was not mine. Or at least not mine alone, and "mine alone" was all that made it special. The concept of foregoing all others for each other is what makes a relationship special to me, not simply just sharing a bed and an occasional use of her pussy. That's what prostitutes are for, if that's all you want.

But what was I going to do? I knew the system. With two kids and her being a stay at home mom, I was going to get ass raped. And ass raped bad. It wasn't enough the bitch destroys my life and cuts out my heart, but now I am going to be a serf for the rest of my fucking life? As one judicial asshole put it, the husband in a long term marriage such as mine needed to get used to the idea that he, the husband, was going to be paying alimony for the rest of his life. Some "justice" system. She cheats and I get punished. Twice. First by her and second by the "justice" system.

Well, fuck that noise. It ain't happening to this guy. I know, "think of the children, their best interests and all of that." Well, I personally don't think it is in the best interest of children to show them that you can betray and destroy a spouse who loves you and have the system reward you for doing it. To me, that morally corrupts children. Not to mention then, even before the divorce is finished, having the boyfriend fucking the daylights out of mommy while the kids get to hear their sex trash talk and her moans and screams while he does her.

So that night, I packed up and headed home. When I got home, I emailed Carl and thanked him for being a true bud, and asked him for as many more photos as he could get as well as any info on lover boy and for a little more help in a couple of days. I had decided if Barb decided to end my life, then I was going to end hers. Not literally, of course, but maybe even more painfully. I was already off for the week, so I didn't have to do anything about taking off work, but Monday I met with the HR folks and I quit the damn job. I only had it for Barb, and that reason was now gone. Free at last! God almighty I am free at last! All of that was after I went to the bank and paid off and closed our joint accounts. Barb used her own account to pay for her trips as I did with mine, so there wasn't a problem. At least not for me. When she got back, this time she was going to have and expensive trip to pay for and no way to pay for it.

The house unfortunately was in both of our names. It was worth about $400K and we owed about $350K on it. So I put it up for sale for $330K, but with some conditions. At mid-morning, I went to the bank and paid down the mortgage by $20K and then spent the majority of the rest of the day and evening looking for a woman who could pass as Barb. And as luck would have it, I found such a woman who agreed to do what I asked, no questions asked, for $2000. I gave her a prepaid cell phone and told her to throw it away when we were finished so no one could find out who she was. Me, I didn't even know her name or address; I just called her Barb.

As trash day was the next day, and I spend a couple hours late at night loading the trash cans with all of Barb's belongings and put the furniture up for sale dirt cheap on Craig's list. Tuesday morning I watched as the garbage collectors took away virtually everything of importance to my wife. Cosmetics, clothes, childhood memories, you name it. Gone. Tuesday I cancelled our auto insurance, taking out a new minimum policy with another company on my car only. Tuesday night I vented my anger on Barb's car rendering it undriveable and worth essentially scrap. By Wednesday morning, all the furniture except the kids' stuff was gone, as were the appliances. The kids' stuff, I put into storage. I spent the rest of Wednesday with my Barb lookalike taking care of a few legal details. I wrote up a deed transferring the house into my name only and went with my Barb-look alike to a notary. Barb leaves her driver's license when she goes on cruises, taking instead her passport. So with her driver's license, Barb lookalike and I found a notary and changed the house's ownership. The thumbprint? Not a problem. The lookalike soaked her thumb in pineapple juice for two days to erode most of her thumbprint. What was left we altered. If asked, we would say she had been in an accident. But it wasn't a problem. It was late at night, the lighting was bad, and the notary didn't even really look at it. She just wanted to get home. And in a matter of 10 days, the lookalike's thumbprint would be back to normal and no one could prove it was her.

By Thursday, the house was sold and by Friday morning, the insurance was cancelled, bank was paid and title transferred to the new owner. It is amazing how fast you can sell a house when you offer it for $70K under market. In theory, at least, Barb could possibly undo all of this, but it would cost her a fortune she didn't have and even if she prevailed, it wouldn't gain her a penny.

Thursday night, after sending Carl copies of the divorce papers, I flew to Vegas and had a hell of a time, spending money like a drunken sailor. Friday night, Carl sent me the photos of Barb with lover boy when she got served. Photos can be priceless, can't they? He even managed to get Barb's sister in the shot looking like she had just been smacked in the face with a dead fish. "Lucy, you've got some 'splaining to do..." Seems Barb and Studly's last romantic night together wasn't going to be quite as they expected. A pity, really.

Saturday morning, I was back at home, making a few last minute alterations to the place while waiting for Barb to get home at midday. When Barb finally got home, she was fuming because I had not picked her up and her cell phone wasn't working (because I had turned it off), not to mention her being served thereby ruining her little tryst. That was until she saw the house and I thought she was going to faint. All her beautiful landscaping was gone; dirt was all she saw. The house itself was worse. Everything she had I done, I undid. Wallpaper gone. Graffiti everywhere. The entire master bedroom gone, just the studs remaining. All in all it would cost about $20K, $20K that Barb didn't have, to put the house back together again and it was all part of the sales contract that I was entitled to do. And of course, she no longer owned the house anyway.

Naturally, her first words to me were "what happened?" I told her maybe she should tell me. She looked confused, and said something about me losing my mind and divorcing her for no reason while she was with her sister. So I walked over and uncovered a large sign attached to the house which said "cheating whore" and showed a photo of Barb with lover boy's hand up her dress. Seeing the sign, Barb promptly threw up. Women can be so stupid sometimes, can't they? After she got done heaving, she yelled at me "you did all of this? You hate me that much?" Priceless. "How exactly did you think I would feel about you if I found out about you and Casanova? Happy?" I said. "Hate really isn't the right word, however. It is more like disgust and despise."

At that point I walked over and got into my "new" car, an old beater pickup truck, throwing the key to the storage locker to Barb, telling her the house was sold, all of her stuff was gone, and she was trespassing (there was even a "no trespassing" sign up), and that I'd be in touch as I drove away. In my rear view mirror, I saw her sitting on the curb crying as a couple of our neighbors stared. A week later, the buyer, who had no idea of any of what happened, already had the house fixed up and back on the market for sale. Flip that house!

A week after that, my attorney and I had our first meeting with Barb and her attorney. It had taken her a two weeks because every time a potential attorney called my attorney to discuss the payment of his or her services, my attorney said that as far as he was aware that the Barb and I had no assets to speak of and neither of us were employed, so that payment of legal services might not be happening. Of course, I had paid my attorney an all-inclusive fee for his services before I went to Vegas. The agreement stipulated his fee was fully earned as soon as Barb was served. Ultimately Barb wasn't even able to get an attorney using her credit card because Friday I called her company and let them know that we were getting divorced, I was no longer employed nor was Barb, and we had no assets to pay a credit card with. My guess is they closed her card upon hearing this. But Barb was able to get an attorney through free legal aid, however. Not a very good one, but an attorney nonetheless. But backed up as Mr. Legal Aid was, and with my attorney not being especially helpful, it was two weeks before we had our first face to face. And of course it was a ruckus.

The first thing Barb's attorney did was serve me with a deposition notice, interrogatories and demands for documents concerning our finances. I chuckled. He was going to get a big, fat zip for all of his efforts. After Barb's attorney spent many hours on trying to get me to answer his bullshit including a motion to compel, I finally disclosed that we had about $50K before the shit hit the fan. I had paid $20K to the bank, $10K to pay off all our other "joint" expenses, gave my attorney $5K, and said I blew the rest in Vegas when in fact I only blew $8K in Vegas and squirreled the remaining $5K away for a rainy day. I didn't mention the $2K to Barb lookalike. I made sure to tip all the dealers $100 and have a photo made with each of them, not to mention a number of working girls, to substantiate my story. I'll remember that trip to Vegas for the rest of my life!

During the week Barb was gone, I spent part of my time trying to find another job. And I found exactly what I was looking for: a really sweet divorced lady named Stephanie about my age with a couple of great little kids who had a ranch and needed some serious, ongoing handyman and ranch type help. Exactly what I like to do! The pay was room and board in exchange for 30 hours a week of work. Nothing Barb could attach! If Stephanie had any additional work for me, and I chose to do this work, I would get paid $100 for up to 10 hours of extra work per week. But what really cinched the deal was that where I was to stay was a little 2 bedroom guest house she had on the property, and with the condition that my kids could live there as well. The last part was a win-win for us both, since our kids were about the same ages.

During the legal proceedings, Barb of course, tried to get me to take her back. She used all the bullshit cliches which just pissed me off more. What I had found out was that lover boy was her old flame from high school who had dumped her when some little rich girl came along and lover boy saw he would be on easy street for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, if there was any chance (and there really wasn't much) that we could get back together, finding out that Barb really enjoyed the sex with is guy and that she and lover boy had simply kept their high school romance going pretty much killed the slim, almost non-existent, little possibility of reconciling. What scared me the most was given the circumstances, who fathered the kids? Fortunately, that was one place where Barb actually had a conscience, and the kids tested out as mine.

I considered revenge against her lover, but at the end of the day, it was Barb I was mostly pissed at. But I made sure his wife got copies of my photos and from what I understand, as a condition of staying married, she made him wear a cock cage! Hilarious! I couldn't have asked for a better revenge! Of course, that ended Barb and his little romance.

As to the rest of the legal proceedings, it was hysterical. At the end of the day, there simply wasn't anything to be gotten. The judge was one mad little hornet! She couldn't stand the thought of a mother not getting custody and tried her very hardest to make that happen. But the deck was stacked against it. She threatened me with jail for a variety of reasons, but my attorney pointed out that I was ready to accept jail, and if she did that, I would lose my job and the kids would lose a very good living situation where they could be close to their mom and the county would be looking at possibly having to take them. Lose-lose for everyone. Welfare wasn't going to be enough for Barb and the kids, and the best Barb was able to do was some $9/hour job and with that amount of income, she couldn't find anyone who would rent to her a bigger, more expensive place necessary for the three of them. The judge had even tried to order me to pay Barb from the $100/week cash, but I told her that in my present physical condition and at my age, I wasn't able to work those extra hours anyway! So nothing to get there! Reality was that Stephanie was slipping me a little spending cash under the table, but no one needed to know about that, did they? Instead, Barb ended up having to pay me some child support for the kids clothes, etc.! The judge was so pissed, her face looked like she was sunburned! I thought I was going to laugh until I passed out!

The house had re-sold shortly after it went back on the market. No attorney was willing to go after either me or my buyer on a contingency basis, so Barb was out of luck there. Yeah, at the end of the day, I lost $35K on the house, but so what? I would have rather burned it to the ground than have Barb and lover boy using it as their love nest while I continued to pay on it. When all of the dust settled, Barb was working crappy hours, living in a little studio, taking the bus to her $9/hr job, paying me child support, and I had my kids that I love dearly, and a great job with a sexy boss. And the kids truly had a better life on the ranch with Stephanie's kids. The four of them took the bus to school everyday, which gave me a little time alone with Stephanie during the day. Needless to say I found out the job had one extra fringe benefit. Ironically, I even used my past life to help Stephanie to save a bundle on her taxes, and after that, Stephanie and I understood we were what each other had been searching for. We completed each other. I'm still too tired to put in 40 hours a week, but now it is for an entirely different reason! But you're not hearing me complain!