The Second Wife, Part 9

Coyote – Uh oh

You know that saying about Coyote Ugly being when you want to chew your arm off after a one-night stand that was done with alcohol-laced glasses? A big mistake you would rather escape than deal with. My husband would wake up to Coyote Uh-Oh, where he would wake up and know it was time to love bomb me even though he would rather I just worship at his feet. He would have rather chewed his arm off too, but the only way to bring me to heel was to throw all the fake love at me he could, he had to do something to keep me from leaving or telling someone the truth.

After the explosive birthday, my husband would love bomb me. He helped the kids make pancakes before I woke up and somehow kept them quiet while I slept on the couch. When he went out for cigarettes he brought back flowers. He asked what I wanted to do that day and we did everything I said. He would tell me he loved me and how much I meant to him. He would shower me with all the little things like hand holding, hugging, kisses, and just being near me. He would thank me for everything I had taken on and what I had tolerated. He would post on social media about how lucky he was to have me, how amazing I was, and how proud he was. He even apologized for his behavior. He once told me we were like light switches, that when we fought we would just explode and then like the flip of a switch it was over and we were both sorry and both moved on.

Once he knew he was back in my good graces, I was once again telling the world how amazing my husband was he would repeat the actions, but in different ways. He made me feel so incredibly lucky to have him, and then punish me. He made me believe that out of all the people on the planet, I was the one he wanted, and I believed after all the love-bombing that he was everything I needed. It was a vicious cycle that had begun where he would always shower me with love after he did something bad, he would praise behaviors he approved of and chastise me until I stopped doing what he didn’t like. I would grow to accept what was and instead of calling things out like they were.

Christmas Leave & The Whore House

We spoke of Christmas because the kids were supposed to go spend time with their dad. I worked out a deal with my ex that if we came all the way up and let him have them for a week, then he had to let me have them for a week to go see my husband’s family. It was important to me that we meet the rest of his family as they were our family now too. I had met his dad and we all know how that was going, but he kept talking about all these people and I wanted to know them.

We got the kids back on Christmas eve and spent Christmas day with my family as you can see in the video. Then we packed up and headed to Roanoke, VA to visit his family.

It was an amazing experience. I got to spend time with his dad, the woman his dad was with at the time and her daughter. I got to meet his aunts and uncles and his grandmother. Most of them welcomed us with no hesitation. I came to adore their relationship as a unit, and how much they seemed to care about each other. The daughter of the woman his dad was with, when introduced to me said “he only likes Asian women” and walked away. She was talking about my husband and Anita, the last one he had brought home. The woman’s daughter was snotty, but she was also a teenager and everyone was riding her about yet another car accident she had been in. The way they made it sound she would hit everything whether it was moving or not. I felt bad for her the way they joked about her trying to learn so I chalked her reaction to me as stress and immaturity and let it go. By the end of the trip my husband was volunteering to bring this girl home with us and straighten her up. She wouldn’t come with, but my husband made it seem like without him she was a lost cause and I didn’t believe that. She had attitude and sass, but so did I at her age.

His father would be epic as a host for the most part, but when we ventured outside my husband went into his shed and came out asking why there was a photo of his first wife hanging up. His dad told him that they always keep photos of their mistakes around so we don’t make them again. I came to visit and he hung a photo of my husband’s first wife up. As the conversation surrounding it continued his father would tell me the same thing I had heard and would hear over and over again, “people are replaceable.” This mindset drove me up the wall, titles and statuses are replaceable, but people are not. His dad didn’t seem to grasp that he could have 10 wives and the roles would be replaced from person to person but replacing the person wasn’t something someone could do and if he believed that then it was little juvenile, narcissistic, and lacking compassion. I wondered if he ever moved on past my husband’s mother, because he threw that marriage away, but never remarried, he never “replaced” her. My husband would tell me that his dad was an alcoholic as well as his mother and that seeing this in him was why my husband refused to drink. He would later give me another story/reason, but for now, this was his response. I breathed through my confusion and anger, I wasn’t going to let anything get to me and ruin this trip.

His dad told me stories of my husband’s troublesome youth. My husband used to dress up like a woman, make up, wig, dress, the works, climb out of his bedroom window, run around the house/apt, ring the doorbell, and dressed as a woman he would ask for himself. My husband laughed and said it was just to screw with his dad. My husband shared with me during this trip that he got in a fight with his stepdad when he was 13 over the television being too loud and paralyzed him and that fight was the last straw and his mom called his dad to take him in. Then he told me that he waited until his mom was driving to tell her he had sex for the first time, he laughed about the fact that she almost wrecked. These were things from his past, some a little scary, some eye-opening, but my husband was comfortable enough around his family to let me in a little more and I wouldn’t change that for the world. I wanted to be someone he could confide in.

I believe it was the second (maybe third) night we were there and my husband told his dad he wanted to use the hot tub. The kids were asleep, everyone else had headed to bed or doing something else as we dressed for it. My husband then took me by the hand and led me outside in the cold. His dad lived on the side of a mountain, Blue Ridge, so he had no back neighbors just wooded areas. It was private for the most part except for the open blinds inside the house where anyone could look outside and see us. It was frigid so I dropped my towel and climbed in before my husband even turned the jets on.

My husband and I relaxed in the pulsating waters of the hot tub as his dad wandered through the house every so often. Then my husband pulled me to him, placing me in his lap, and kissed me deeply. I giggled and turned away as he bit down on my neck. It was the first time in a long time my husband wanted me that way and I wasn’t about to turn it down, but I was concerned about what his family would think of me if they saw us.

“Your dad is going to see us” I warned as his dad entered the kitchen by the back door. He was getting something to drink as my husband told me to shhh and untied my bottoms. “What are you doing?” I flirted in a whisper as I reached behind me to scandalize him the way he was doing to me.

“Ride me, get yours” my husband ordered and I complied as I every so often looked over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. It was thrilling and exhilarating to know we could be caught, but through the act, I would lose my way because of something my husband said. Out of breath, I asked my husband if we could move into the house, there was something I wanted to try, something I hadn’t explored with him, something I hadn’t done since I had been assaulted, and couldn’t do it in the water. He replied with a simple no, we had to do this in his dad’s hot tub where he also christened it with his ex-wife, his ex-fiance, and every other woman he had ever brought home. I was literally just another jet-setting for him. I went through the motions to make sure he got his, I faked mine. I didn’t want to tell him he had just made me feel like a whore because I didn’t want to fight in front of his family. As we went into the house he told me how each girl was different at sex. Things I didn’t excel at, someone else had, things I was good at, someone else was better. He had just given me the intimacy he had forced me to crave and then told me it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. I was starving to be everything for him and he was giving me bread crumbs.

The next day, I tried to put it out of my head as his dad took us to the transportation museum and the zoo. The kids had an amazing time. We drove out and they all climbed out to look at the star up on the mountain as I stayed in the car. I blamed it on a fear of heights, but actually, I just needed a moment to breathe. I had been faking everything since the hot tub. I was trying not to be upset and the more I tried to let it go the more I found myself asking questions like, why wasn’t I enough, what else could I do to please him? I thought about the fact that the last couple of vacations I went on with other people I made them miserable because I didn’t want to be away from home or someone that was waiting. I had made my ex-husband absolutely unhappy when I went to meet his family. I didn’t want to do that here, I wanted to give it my best. This was my second marriage, my second chance to get it right. So, I sucked up what I was feeling and decided to put it behind me. Had my husband fucked me where he fucked every woman he had, yes, he even decided to christen his dad’s bed while he was out shopping and I found myself wondering if I was just the next dog to piss on the hydrant of my husband, but I told myself, I would be the last woman that had to be branded in a sea of other women’s intimate acts. I would be the one who covered the places other women had been and left, but I would be the one who stayed. I loved him enough to believe I could do this for him.

It’s like a hotel, you never know how many people have had sex where you were staying, but at the end of the day while you are there that’s your place. His dad’s house which has been branded by others was now marked by us and would be marked repeatedly over 15 years.

The Deadly Drive Home

We wrapped up things with his family with festivities and presents. I was sad our trip was short because I felt like we hadn’t been there that long when it was time to head back to Tennessee, I was more determined than ever that I would be everything my husband needed, I wanted him to feel safe opening up to me all the time the way he did on this trip. On the drive home, we did have a conversation about him sleeping with each woman he brought home and wanting to mark his dad’s house like a puppy in a dog park, but he stated he just liked those places, positions, etc. That it had nothing to do with anything other than he enjoyed it. He apologized for telling me during the sex we had in his dad’s hot tub.

My belly ring had broken during our tryst in his dad’s garage and the makeshift bar I had put in had come out as we traveled down the road. I was worried about it closing up because I hadn’t had it that long, I only got it because my husband wanted it, so I asked my husband if we could stop by a mall or something in the next town we came across. He agreed and we trucked on. We saw a mall by the edge of Virginia as it crosses into Tennessee and my husband said we would stop there. He changed lanes, but then changed back, and before I could even ask what was going on a truck flew past us as it flipped end over end down the interstate crashing into the open spot, where we had just been, before flying over a guardrail and falling off the side of the cliff. Sirens were blaring as they came closer, but I couldn’t see them. I had no words. I looked in the back seat at my sleeping babies, I covered them with their blankets and just stared at them. I turned my head with tears in my eyes as I struggled to come to grips with the fact that we could have died and my husband took my hand in his and placed a kiss on it. “I’m not going to let anything happen to my family. I didn’t let your [ex] hurt you, I won’t let that someone who can’t drive hurt you either,” he stated. I nodded and wiped my tears with my sleeve as he asked “still want to go to the mall, I think we can circle back at the next exit.” My husband seemed unphased, completely devoid of emotion. He only said words of comfort to get me not to cry, but someone just died and could have killed us on their way out. I shook my head, “let’s just go home.” I rasped out the words.

My husband tried to make me understand that people die every day, that it was a part of life and if we allow the shock and sadness of death to affect us then we would never be happy. I understood the words he used, but I didn’t understand how he could feel that way. For me, I knew someone just lost their brother or daughter or parent in a tragic way, but for him it was nothing. He told me it was the way the military and the fire department had built him, that he had seen so much destruction that it didn’t phase him anymore. He told me the last time he cared or felt anything was when he was a first responder to an accident and to spare you the details I won’t mention what he saw.

My husband didn’t feel anything when that person died, he didn’t feel any actual guilt when he treated me like some whore and marked the places where his dick had been ridden before. It wouldn’t dawn on me for a long time to come, but my husband doesn’t feel things like you and I. I believed him to have NPD which is usually brought on by childhood trauma that isn’t dealt with correctly or being raised by a narcissist and with his parents, but my husband had plenty of trauma in his formative years, and no one cared what they had done to him, except me. I wanted to heal him, I wanted to fix everything and make it better, but sometimes things that are broken, stay broken no matter how much glue you use. This would be one of the hardest lessons I would ever learn.


Being back home in Texas was bittersweet. It was good to be home, but I missed my family. Meeting my husband’s family had been an eye-opener and while I still had a chip on my shoulder about his dad bailing last minute on his homecoming, I also felt maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t there. My husband tried so incredibly hard to be like his dad, but from an outsider looking in, his dad was the reason he struggled as a child, his dad was the reason he was raised in a broken home, his dad was extremely materialistic and lacked empathy, his dad seemed like he was a little broken himself, and not someone to mimic. Don’t get me wrong, his dad is not a bad person, he just did bad things and has really crappy family/people values, but as a person, he is not bad.

I expressed to my husband that I never wanted us to turn out like his parents, I told him I wanted open honesty, even if it hurt the other person. I wanted to stop swallowing things that bothered me so we could deal with them. I wanted to start date night so we could continue to work on what we had and were building. I wanted to explore things sexually that I had been too afraid to explore since my assault. I wanted us to do what we could to have a more active role in our kids’ lives that didn’t live with us. We made a deal that we would both let the other in as much as we could all the time, that we would trust one another, and most of all, we would take on our challenges together. Every decision would be discussed before moving forward, and every opportunity would be discussed as a family before venturing into things. It was almost like renewing our vows only it was stated on a brown sectional with a bag of Cheetos instead of in a church with a ring. We promised each other that we were in this for life so we would do the work to make sure it was the best life for us all.

This promise was supposed to last a lifetime, but…

Valentine’s Day was coming and my husband had told me we didn’t have the money to do anything and he was apologizing that I wouldn’t even get flowers. I told him I didn’t care, all I wanted was him. I made a plan. I stayed awake all night the night before cleaning the house from top to bottom, I washed and pressed his uniform, that he all too often waited till bedtime to tell me it needed washing, forcing me to stay up. I ventured out into the woods behind the house on base, between the tree line and the golf course tulips had begun to bloom and I picked enough of them to put in a small vase. Then I set a cinnamon roll casserole into the oven and went upstairs to wake him up with something you would see on pornhub and celebrate the day of love. He had warned me that from Christmas on, because of my reaction to the hot tub when we did talk about it, if I wanted intimacy not only did I HAVE to dress up for it, but I also HAD to be the aggressor. He wanted me to always come to him for it, I always made to make the first move, and I had to continue this if I ever wanted intimacy.

I showered, put on lingerie he had picked out, he had a thing for all lingerie, but it seemed like his favorite were fishnets, and then I crawled into bed. I curled into him and kissed his neck, he slowly woke up and soon I was pulled on top of him and I was kissing him, I was on all fours over him when out of nowhere he shoved me off of him. I hit the floor with a thud and just looked up at him as he looked down at me. I didn’t understand, he was into this, this is what he demanded, but now all I knew was what the cold hardwood felt like as it spanked my ass. “You were crushing me,” he stated and I took a moment to think about how I was positioned. I was over him not on him, but then it hit me again, my 123 pounds was “crushing” to him. I had been monitoring what I was eating and working out. Every meal I ate I did 30 minutes minimum on the treadmill he had bought me. Other people commented on how beautiful I was and how incredible I looked, but my husband sat up on the bed and said “You have put on some weight.” Then he went into the bathroom leaving me to grab a blanket and cover myself up, suddenly very aware of how naked I was. When he emerged again he had a fresh shower and was getting dressed for the day, I softly cried as I said “Happy Fucking Valentine’s Day.” He turned and looked at me and stated “you know I don’t have sex on days I have PT and I don’t do big girls.” Then he went downstairs, pulled the food I had cooked, and took it with him for lunch so he wouldn’t have to come home and see me sad. He walked back upstairs where I was still covered, scrambling to find understanding, and he kissed me, told me he loved me and left like he hadn’t just broken my heart.

“Narcissists withhold affection to punish you. Withhold attention to get revenge. And withhold an emotional empathetic response to make you feel insecure.”

Alice Little

Every time we went to the store if someone heavy-set walked in front of the vehicle he would make comments about them being a wide load or something to that effect. I had mentioned it more than a time or two about how he would feel if someone said that about him, but he didn’t care. I dropped it, but now I suddenly knew how each of those people felt.

My self-esteem was shattered and it came with only three weeks left before our anniversary that I had been trying desperately to look amazing for.

Coming Soon – The Anniversary Anvil and the Deployment.

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