Well, finally, I am justified in calling you a great big fat liar. You have lied to me for the last time, Buddy. Never, again, will I believe anything that comes out of your mouth. Oh, wait, I don't ever have to hear anything coming out of your mouth.
Your confession, yesterday, confirmed so many suspicions. Although, it was terribly hurtful, it brings closure to all the times I cried and worried and stressed and punched out the bed pillows so as not to wake our children.
The lies started in 1977 at Ft. Bragg, NC. Time after time, year after year, I listened to your lies and worked them out in my mind. Every argument, you said it was me; I was the damaged goods. I am not the bad person, here. Not by any measurement. I will always be grateful to Dr. Kluge for helping me through that last bout with you.
I remember living in Wiesbaden and seeing pictures of you in a hotel with just a shirt on, thinking it was totally out of your character to take such pictures. Well, you lied to me and said you were there alone. I remember you sending a picture of you in our home in Wiesbaden with a flower in your mouth. You said you took it for me for Valentine's day. You lied, again. It wasn't for me.
Lie after lie after lie, I stayed there, built a home and a family for what I thought was 'us'. For what? You told James and David that you left because I would not leave the 'infidelity thing' alone. You should have told them your plan of leaving me in 2004. You thought I would be settled into Bent Brook and you could simply take your toothbrush and slither away without too much trouble. Boy, I must have really thrown a wrench into your plan when I told you it was my wifely duties to build a home for us in Wiesbaden.
I am the second Judy in your life, except I didn't take my life. I live to tell the story. When I calm down, I'm sending Taylor Swift the lyrics to her next song.
I don't wish you well and I am not happy for you. It totally sucks to be you. I am glad you are out of my life, for good.