Jack of Hearts: Part I, II, & III

Bob Dylan- Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts

Part I- Real Sext

August 23rd, 10:06 PM
B: Totally thinking of the last time we made love. Like the way your bracelets jangle when you make me cum...

D: My cock is still big and fat, wanting to slam your tight little girl pussy with the ghetto booty to cushion the driving and pumping!!!!

B: I wish your fat cock was fucking my tight little hole right now, daddy, making me fucking scream for mercy.

D: That's what you need! You should just let me get my anger out by making you cum screaming and me throwing you around and controlling you with my hands... This is another reason we should always be together!!:-p

B: Take all your aggression out on my soaking wet little pussy. Dominate me, order me around like your little slut girl. I’ll do anything for my daddy’s cum. I want your cum all over me.

D: I know what you need you little slut and so you'll do what I tell you and I will cum all over you and You'll love it! So cum and take your punishment and submit...

B: I do need to be punished, daddy. I’ve been such a bad little slut. So insolent and insubordinate. You need to take me over your knee and show me who’s boss. Shove your fat cock down my throat. Whatever you want. I’m so wet for you alone.

D: You fucking little wet whore, you'll never be satisfied without my huge veiny throbbing cock in your mouth while I push your head down till you choke on it All, I should just bend you over my knee and jam my finger into you till you scream and tell your only Daddy and Master that you Love him only forever while you sit that fat booty on my face and rub your swollen clit.  
 Sit that fat ass on my face!

B: This is so hot... Your cock is the only thing that makes me happy. And the only thing that makes me cum so fucking hard over and over. I’m your little cum slut. I wish you were feeding me that big dick right now; fucking my face, while I rub my little slit in anticipation for that granite horse-cock.

D: I'm soo hard and I would force you to take it really rough and deep and fuck you like an animal. Bite your ass while I feel your soft little hairs on my nose while I tongue fuck you before I squirt all over your face!
 Did you cum for your Daddy yet slut?

B: I need to be fucked rough, to put me back in line for being such a bad girl to my daddy. I need my daddy’s cock as punishment. I’m about to come right now, Daddy. 

D: I'm your Master and I'm going to abuse your sweet Cunt!

B: Oh my God!!!!! Fuck yes, Daddy. Your cock is huge!  It looks so good. I just came so hard, baby. 

D: Good you nasty little Slut! I need your soaking wet cunt lips spread over my face while you sit and smother me and stroke Daddy's huge staff!

B: I’ll do whatever my daddy wants to make him cum. All I want is your hot load shooting all over my face. 

D: I wanna kiss your painted toes while you grab my horse-cock and stick the big head between your wet slutty pink lips! Cum and get you face all full of cum pools you nasty slut... Your Daddy's little slut you better remember that! I wanna make you Scream right now!!
 And You Will do what ever I want if you always want my cum! Right slut?! How much cum do you want? Submit my beautiful bitch: and love all of it!!!!!
 I wanna watch you Fuck yourself with a big dildo while I stick my big cock down your throat!!

B: Holy. Shit. I totally came again!!!

D: Good Girl! That's how juicy and willing my little slut is! Keep going my nasty little daughter, Daddy needs your pulsing hole!!!!!!!
 I need to hurt that wet pussy with all the inches Daddy has to give his perfect slut!

August 25th 11:50 PM

D: My dick is so long and Hard! I need to shove it down your throat and rape your tight little pussy!:-p

B: I rubbed my wet little slit dreaming of my sexy Daddy and his rock hard cock, this afternoon.  I came rereading your super hot texts...Twice. 
I love my Daddy very much, and only feel good when I am pleasing him, in every way. 
I’m truly your submissive little slut. 

D: Good Girl, you are Daddy's perfect little slut.
 I need to worship and abuse my little slut and watch her finger herself while I lick around her lips and clit!!
 I need to cum all over you!:-p


B: I want all your cum any where my Daddy wants to shoot it. 

D:You are the most beautiful and sexy baby, I need you:)!!!!!!!!

August 26th 9:15 AM
B: My panties are so wet thinking about you. I’m playing with my little pussy again dreaming about you Daddy. And that big horse cock of yours. I’m fantasizing all kinds of filthy things you could do to me. 

D: I can't Wait!! I need to hear you scream while I pound you with your pussy juice all over my long swollen horse cock!!! Mmmmm

B: I wish your fat cock was fucking my soaking wet pussy right now. I know I’d be coming over and over on that big dick. I’m so hot for you. 
I want to be your obedient little slut and a good girl for my daddy. Give him whatever dirty thing he wants. 

D: Me too sexy slut, my love, I want to so bad!!!:) Good girl, you are Daddy's perfect little slut and I have some things for you to do now!!

B: Order me around. Make me worship your cock. 

D: Yes and I wanna get a big dildo to fuck yourself while I face fuck you and get ready to punish your soaking pussy hard!!

B: Whatever my daddy wants! I just want to make my daddy happy. I can’t wait to taste that fat cock in my mouth. It’s been so long since I’ve had daddy’s big cock shoved down my throat... I need it to be a happy, submissive girl for my darling Daddy. 

D: I was watching some porn and dreaming that the girl was sucking my cock like you do! Only you can Take me all down your throat!! Confession: I love it when you choke on it!
I need to see you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!:)

B: Good, I love gagging on your big hard cock. It gets me so excited. 

D: I swear you have made it Bigger

B: My favorite is when you are standing up and I’m on my knees. Or kneeling over me while I’m laying down. 

D: When are you cumming to submit to my cock??????

B: God, I wish I could right now. 

D: Me too!!!!!!:) so bad, I miss you sooooooo much!!!!!!! Can a guy get a smiley face or two from the girl he loves?? Lol

B: Baby, you’re getting so much more than emojis! ;)

D: I know I feel it! I just wanna hear how you love me and make you laugh a bit:) I have so much love for you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I need some love and pussy emojis lol!!!

August 26th 7:28 PM
D: I just got into the second cologne: Monte Blanc Noir, you have to check it out and see if you like it, I do :)

B: I miss the way you smell so fucking much. God. That’s irresistible too...
 I know as soon as I see you, and smell you, I’m going to want your hands all over me. And your kisses and, your snuggles, and your big, fat...
 It’s not fair!  How much you make me lose control. ;)

D: You have the same affect on me! So it is fair!:) bring your shirt and I can smell it up for you! BTW you know deep down that we were meant for each other!! We need to count our blessings!:):)

B: You’re so fucking romantic on top of it all! You drive me wild. Quite literally, sometimes. 

D: You are so romantic too :) don't worry I'm gonna get you back and make you feel so good and we will look back and laugh! I love my special baby girl!!

August 27th 11:02 PM
D: I can't wait to get you drunk again and fuck Daddy's perfect little pussy till you are helpless and out there, while you gush all over my long cock going in and out of you hard!

B: Oh my God, Daddy. All I do is fantasize about you and your fat cock all day and rub my soaking wet little pussy for you. 
 I’m wet right now thinking about it while I’m out at a concert. I can’t stop thinking about Daddy’s big cock and how good he fucks his little girl. 

D: :) good girl, I hope you are having fun

B: Not as much fun as I have when my Daddy loves me and fucks me...

D: That what I want my girl to tell her Daddy, he loves you to death and wants to possess you fully, and drink his drink while he licks your dripping pussy! The taste together would be Awesome!!:-p:-p
 Sorry for the dumb typos but all my blood is in My Horse Cock! 
 We need to order a big dildo so Daddy can rape you with it and lick it clean while you jam my Hard meat down your wanton throat! Right slut?!!

B: Of course Daddy! Whatever pleases you is what I want! I would love very much for Daddy to fuck both my throat and pussy simultaneously. ;)This all sounds so hot, Daddy! 

D: You are my perfect girl Baby!:) Don't forget it!!!  PS, I love the scent of your pussy it drives me crazy! I wish I had your panties if not you to smell and cum on!!  Mmmmm heheheee

B: That’s funny because I seriously love the smell of your cock. It always smell so fucking clean like soap, but also somehow pheromonal, like sex to come. It’s the best. I could almost smell it when you sent me that dick pic. I came this morning to that picture... 

D: Also :) we are going to to all of that and more but I need you here to grab and hold down, silly!  I'd ball gag you but I LOVE the sounds you make and what you say!! But maybe we need nipple clamps too?? Lol:-p

B: Oh my god, one of the extemporaneous fantasies I had about you while I was masturbating, was you fucking while you held down one of those big Hitachi vibrators on my clit, and made me cum over and over again on your cock. I almost forgot about that little closing gem!  That sent me over the edge, as I recall. 

D: I love when I pull out and you suck your pussy juice off my cock so I can get more!! We need to shop together my little girl:)

B: Cleaning Daddy’s cock is my favorite, favorite thing. It makes me feel like such a good, submissive little slut for you. I love worshiping at the altar of my Daddy’s thick cock. 

D: I love you more than words can say my darling sub slut!! You talk big but you better cum and get on your knees and worship it and stop wasting your time... 

B: Ha! Please.  You know what a submissive, good girl I am, Daddy!  You know I’m not just talking trash. I’ve sucked Daddy’s cock so many times, and let him fuck my little girl pussy whenever he wants it. I’ll show you, Daddy. Don’t you worry. I can’t wait for my Daddy’s hot load all over his submissive little slut bitch. 

D: Cum give me more baby girl slut! I want to cum on you and my cock got even Harder when you called yourself the hot little slut bitch that you are! You are Daddy's fantasy. Period. 

B: You are my fantasy, Daddy! I’m always dreaming about you, and the things I can do to make my Daddy happy. I love my Daddy so much! You make me soak through my lacy panties. I always want to make your cock hard, and please you, and satisfy you, and love you. I want to be your good girl, always. 
Sometimes I get out of line and I just need Daddy’s cock to give me an attitude adjustment. To fuck me into submission. 

D: It’s all good, my love. I need you my sweet loving romantic sugar pie! :) 
 You need to take off your wet panties for Daddy and wrap them around his swollen shaft and suck on his throbbing head and look up and tell him you love your Daddy! Mmmmm
 I love you precious darling, night night:)

B: I can’t wait to please my Daddy! I love you. Night night. 

August 29th 12:34 PM
D: We have to drink our champagne so I can fuck you
with the bottle!!:-p yummy

B: Hey! I thought no sexy talk until we can actually have sex! :P

D: I had that one saved since yesterday, sorry lol see you don't even know what you've been missing!:-p

B:I keep looking at that picture you sent me of your cock... It looks so fucking big and thick. I want to taste it so badly. It looks so beautiful and perfect and huge. I want my Daddy to fuck me with that mammoth cock; slap me around with it. Make me his submissive little girl for it. 
 I can’t wait. I can’t wait for you to fuck me. And I can’t wait to tell my daddy how much I love him and thank him for fucking his little girl so good and making me cum so many times. 

August 30th 1:19 AM
D: PS Daddy's Big Fat Cock is throbbing for his little submissive baby girl!!>=)
 I do want to slap you around with it! And make you gag on it like the little slut you love to be for Your Daddy:D

B:Go ahead and get some sleep, Daddy. :P

D:No doubt, I totally am after cumming thinking about fucking your ghetto booty!!!! Lol:-p yummy

B: Damn, I wish I was there to take all my Daddy’s cum...

D: I have been cumming so much for you!! I wish you were here to be covered in my hot loads!!

B: Believe me, I do too!  I have been rubbing my wet little slit for you at least a couple times a day. I can do almost nothing else! I love my Daddy’s cum. And when I see my Daddy, I’m going to make him feel so good he’ll let me have his yummy load all over his little girl. 
 In fact, I’m going to get in bed and play with Daddy’s little pussy and dream of my sexy daddy and his thick, juicy cock that gets so hard for his wanton slut. 

D:Good girl Baby! I love you my wet, sub slut.  Daddy needs to abuse you and make you happy and squeal! Night night, hot pussy slut for Daddy

B:Night night sexy, big dick Daddy!

September 15th 2:36 AM
B: I can't stop thinking about my Daddy!  I miss you so much.  I just keep playing with my wet little snatch hoping Daddy will come back to sate me.  The only thing that satisfies me is Daddy's big, monster cock.  Why won't Daddy fuck his little girl???

Warren Zevon- Hostage-O 

Part II- So Long Fucked Up Love & Thurston Howell the III

Ryan Adams- Hotel Chelsea Nights

     This morning I woke up somewhere south of 7 AM. I couldn’t manage to find sleep, so I slipped my hand beneath my cotton panties, and I started to dream about you. I imagined us in your bed, as you commanded me this way or that, and you growled in my ear, that you wanted to stick your fat, veiny cock in my juicy cunt. Really more of a memory than a fantasy. I finally came when I imagined your deft fingers working in and out of my pussy, so that your bracelets jangle together in that way I find irresistible. I came so hard that I cried out, “Oh, Daddy!”  Then immediately, I began just crying, slow, sad tears that trudged down my blushed cheek. All I could do was lament, “Oh Daddy...”

I wish this was something I poetically dreamt up, but it isn’t.. I really have such intense and mixed feelings for you, now. Between the pleasure and the pain, the love and lament; romance and ruin. You’ve seeped into my subconscious and I don’t know how to rid myself of you... Or even if I want to.  

Tom Waits- Please Call Me Baby 

    I’m just so drawn to you, despite my best efforts at control.  Or maybe we’re just so drawn to each other.  There is something magical that happens, between us. Something inexplicable, and on my part at least, irresistible. We are slamming into codependence.  Part of me wants to spin on this carousel with your forever.  There are constant sparks, even if sometimes they are the dynamitic kind.  I’m obsessed with you and the love you doused me with.  You are a part of me, and I a part of you.  Time drags without you, like sludge oozing by. You are excitement. A vibrant ribbon of color in an otherwise grey tableau.  I am definitely addicted to the high of you, and that strange magnetism. I can’t seem to break free, even if in certain moments I want to, or must. Just to breathe the difference in the air. I can’t seem to stand the air without you; the air depleted of your magnetic charm.   It’s dull and stuffy and lacking in oxygen-richness.  Whatever Dennis Hopper is huffing in Blue Velvet; that’s your atmosphere.

     You’re like heroine to me. You’ve made me a degenerate junkie for your love and cock. I know it’s fucking bad for me, but I just can’t stop sticking you in my veins.  I need to kick the habit of you.

     I’m sure there’s a stretched out asshole somewhere missing your dick.  Either way we are probably fucked.  So long, Thurston Howell the III.

                                          *****

 

Steely Dan- Rikki Don't Lose That Number


     "The end is nigh, my darling."  That's what you said to me that frigid night on your porch, as I shivered and trembled in front of you.  I found it so terribly romantic at the time.  And so god damn maudlin, which made it all the more romantic.  Now it just seems kind of manipulative and weird.  Like why didn't you invite me in? Or offer me some kind of blanket or coat, like you tried to push on me any other fucking time?  You can be a real bastard, you know.  And you do know.  You'd rather feel sorry for yourself than actually change something to find happiness.  To even allow happiness. 

But let's face it; the end was always nigh for us.  I knew it the moment you first contacted me.  It felt like a spectacular disaster.  It had that kind of momentum; that feeling.  I just wish it was a little more spectacular.  Kind of a let down, really.  It just sort of deflated, instead of going out with a bang, it just sort of sighed.  Or maybe more accurately, whimpered out through watery eyes.

   
Warren Zevon- The French Inhaler

     
     I always wanted you to be so much more than a stopover. You made me feel those lovey-dovey romantic feelings I thought I’d never feel again. You reminded me how much happier I am in love. Especially compared to indifference or bitterness. I would have loved you forever had you only been nice to me, like you promised.

     I tried to tell you you would end up breaking my heart in the end. It’s just the way it is. You seem to know how life goes for you, and so do I.  Everyone I ever love devastates me in the end. It’s inevitable. That’s why I burn so brightly, so intensely, because I know it’s slipping through my Byzantine fingers sooner rather than later. 

     I would have given you everything. Everything you could ever want from a lover and a friend. But you wanted to consume me. You took it for granted. And tainted it with your sourness.  It wasn’t your feralilty that ruined this; it was your self-absorption and egomania. You may be empathetic, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t obsessed with yourself and your experience.  You make everything about you. And then project it onto me. Even your neuroses aren’t as interesting as you think they are. I hate to break it to you, but you’re damaged just like the rest of us, brougham.  Not in some special way either. In the same, old ordinary way we are all fucked up. And just trying to make it through. 
 
Lyle Lovett- I Can't Love You Anymore

     
     I suspect you don’t even really like me.  That you were in love with the idea of me more than me as an actual being.  And you certainly couldn't stand the idea of amounting to a lonely loser.  Sometimes I think you’ve made it all up. Your love for me, how you feel about me in all the ways I found so unbelievably romantic. What if it was all an act? The final performance of a master manipulator. The swan song of a charismatic and intoxicating, but demonic hypnotist. 
  
They Might Be Giants- Hypnotist of Ladies 

     You can't charm your way to validation.  It has to come from within. It's never coming from without. I used to think you were so genuine and authentic. But now it all seems so schmoozy and superficial. The way you hang all over women, practically begging for their approval, on one hand, while belittling and deriding them in grand misogynist fashion on the other.  It's pretty obvious why that is.  Do you really think paying back every woman you meet for your less than ideal experience is ever going to really net you what you want?  Is it ever going to lead to any type of happiness?  Talk about a waste.   Maybe you should start painting monsters. Since that seems to be your favorite thing.  

     I probably would have sank down with you forever to the point of no return.  I was willing to throw it all away on an enigmatic stranger. We could have ruled the world.  Fuck.  We did for the briefest of moments, my darling.  We owned that town; God damn you.

Townes Van Zandt- If I Needed You

Part III- Jack-Off of Hearts 



December 29th 1:53 PM


D: Just take it easy on yourself and Get out of your Head!! Write or sew or... I'm here for you believe it or not, and I'm not going to let the day come when you regret leaving the love of your life, because you will... Take your time, I'm here for you day or night and I need to focus on my work... But I really need you to focus on Too!!:) I love you truly Baby, take it slow with me ok:)


 By Spring at least, you will feel like you did just a mere few months ago! You'll see:)
     Maybe I've said tooooo much as usual, I mean well, but look where its got me/us...I'll keep it to myself for you:) Good Night sweetheart

December 29th 8:22 AM
B: I fell asleep. Just saw these texts now.
     I was just exhausted after that whole conversation. I feel totally emotionally drained. Each morning I wake up with the feeling of a hangover, even though I haven’t had a single sip to drink. I don’t feel well. I had terrible dreams all night. A lot of them about you. The basic gist of them being you ignoring me when I reached out to you for help.
     I feel like you ripped my guts out last night. Just fucking curb-stomped another useless bitch. I called you last night because I missed you, because I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you, to apologize, and because I thought that maybe I was making a huge mistake not trying to work things out with you. And you treated me like I was the worst piece of shit that could have ever existed. Not even like an annoyance, but like I was worthless garbage. Crying, pathetic garbage sent to disturb your precious existence.
      There is absolutely no excuse for that level of heartlessness. That was fucking evil. Evil isn’t caused by low-blood sugar, tiredness, or headaches. Crankiness, sure. Not unmitigated heartless cruelty. That’s like if you crawled up on my doorstep all bloody, battered, and bruised, just whimpering for help, and instead of a typical human response like, “Oh my God David! Come in here right now. Let me tend to your wounds, let me feed you, give you water, let me take you to the hospital,” I said something like, “You’re getting blood all over my porch, you degenerate bum.  Get the fuck out of here!” And the I kicked your already bloodied face with my boot heel to roll you off my porch.
     That’s how I fucking feel after reviewing the events of last night. I couldn’t even be half as callous and not even an ounce as cruel to my grandmother who tortured me my whole life. Because I’m just not evil. And I never wanted to become what she was. That’s why it was so important that I did get whatever she wanted that day. Because I could prove to myself that I didn’t have to ever be that.  I do take pride in that.
    I’m not worthless garbage and I didn’t deserve to be abused like that. No matter how mad or hurt you felt. And when you did reach out to me, I called or texted. But maybe just maybe, I stayed quiet because I was half-expecting that vicious response that I got last night. I guess my paranoia was worth something all along.
     I’m shaking uncontrollably. I go through crying spells. I can’t eat. My sleep is severely disturbed. I am having a real physical reaction to this. I know you don’t care. You just care about what you’re going through. Too bad. Because I care about both of us. Plus my responsibilities as a mother and whatever obligation I have to the other important people in my life. I guess I’m just not that free.
     I can say without exaggeration, the way you treated me last night was absolutely the worst anyone has ever treated me I my whole life. I never felt more like a worthless animal. And though that was the worst time, but not the first incident. It was the third or fourth time. So you should really think about that. Think about why you would ever do that to someone you supposedly love.
    That was what my trepidation has been about this whole time. It’s clearly not unfounded. You have the ability and the power to send me spiraling downward. And instead of being judicious and wise with that power, you decided like most foolish humans when they get a taste of power to abuse it and go mad with it. As much as it pains you to admit I’m right; you sure have a knack for proving it so. And if you wanted to prove to me that you are a ceaseless monster; mission accomplished.
     If you would like to discuss these things further face to face today, I can do that. But I would like to meet at a neutral place, like the coffee shop. So things can’t get too heated.

Angry phone call from D to B- 10:31 AM
Even angrier hang-up by D to B- 10:46 AM

 

10:48 AM
B: You’re the abuser. And you can’t handle some emotions standing up to you. You’re a bully. And like most bullies, when someone calls you out, you turn tail and run. I can’t respect a person who perpetuates the cycle of abuse. The buck should stop with the abused. But you fell into the trap of becoming the abuser. At least I’m brave enough to face you.

Voicemail D to B- 11:15 AM 
     There were a few things, I wasn't going to call you back because obviously you don't want to hear from me.  But there were there was like The Dude, and a hair and a few things that I should call you and say something.  But I can tell how things are.  You're going to really regret this, like I have.  And, uh, you know, so I'll fuck off to my paradise and you can fuck off to yours.  And uh, when I'm dying we can both look back and see like if it was worth it.  and uh, maybe one of us will have a good life I think you know maybe one of us WONT we'll...we'll just do it by ourselves.  you know I really wanted to get together today and i was feeling really good about you but its the opposite.  you know We worked things out and I thought we were gonna really talk and be together about things and really be level-headed.  But no.  You had sat there and thought all night and worked your whole thing against me and how terrible and how i hurt you the worst.  Okay.  that's what it is. Okay.  And then what did i do? You know i thought good things about you and thought i was sorry i treated you that way. And wanted to go and see you hopefully, but I didn't expect to see you of course cuz when would I see you or anything?  You don't ever want to see me. But then I wake up and its just, uh, good morning David, hear how- you're the biggest asshole in the world. You're the abuser. You suck. You know, why do you even fuckin'-exist? So I get it.  I got it. Okay.  I me- like I said, you know, like we'll just be apart, okay? And we'll find out who like has, you know, really, uh, has a great life. Because we can't be together.
11:58 AM
B: That second voicemail you left me was kinda fucked up. It scares me a little, D.

D: Please call me baby.

Post Script 

     Jesus, I can still remember everything about that afternoon in New York.  Driving through Queens pointing out Ramones landmarks, turning our noses up in Williamsburg, eating fried chicken in Red Hook.  Everything about that day was perfect; the subtle breeze, the color or the sky, and you.  I never wanted anything so badly in my life as much as I wanted so desperately for one of those apartments to be ours.  If you would have asked me to marry you at the moment, upend my life for you, move to Brooklyn on a whim to shack up in some makeshift artist's loft; I would have done it.  Everything bit of it.  Because at that moment, nothing mattered but you and I.  My whole world was there with you, in this mind-blowing fantasyscape.  Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still feel those powerful arms wrapped tightly around my waist.  That was the one place I thought nothing could hurt me.


Ryan Adams- New York, New York
  
"Had myself a lover who was finer than gold
But I've been broken up and busted up since...
And love won't play any games with you, anymore
If you don't wanna 'em to
The world won't wait and I watched you shake
But honey, I don't blame you
Hell, I still love you, New York"

Amusing Letters to an Anectdote (Of Which Became the Anti-model for the Bohemian Man)

Allo-allo my old friend,

I certainly was shocked to hear from you, and somehow, simultaneously, not shocked at all.  I think of you from time to time, just last Sunday, in fact, for no reason other than I wore a dress I had wore on one of our dates so many years ago.  How funny. 

I'm so sorry to hear about your divorce.  I always hoped you'd find the happiness and romance you sought.  But let me be the first to welcome you to the twice-divorced club!  Sorry I'm not much of a welcoming committee!  :)  Hell, I'm practically in the thrice-divorced club, myself.  I started seeing someone rather seriously about 5 months ago, to no avail, really.  I can't seem to find anyone that lives up to their presentation of themselves.  I seem to only find men that are sort of mean, and soured from life.  Just completely dispirited, or something.

But, I'm actually in a decent headspace, myself.  Despite all the BS, I keep plugging away.  I still can find some laughs here and there, still writing, and still loving El Duderino. :)

Although, at this juncture, I can only offer friendship, if you ever want to commiserate over some whiskey and trade war stories, I think I'd be up for that.

Enigmatically yours,

The Harold Theory of Power Dynamics; or What it's Like to Always Lose

Firstly, my smugness or cavalier attitude didn’t stem from me thinking,  ‘I’m so right about this.’  It comes from the painful nature of the idea, itself.  It’s an involuntary defense mechanism; I’m steeling myself off from the hurt of the detestable subject matter of your past loves/infatuations/conquests/relationships.  I get jealous like any other human being. I’m not so great, nor am I so evolved to not be affected by things like that.  I’m a flawed, frightened person, like everybody else.

Secondly, the reason I even bother chewing on this idea, sometimes in the back of my head, sometimes in the forefront, for three months is two-fold.

One, I’ve had nothing but terrible experiences with the ex-girlfriends of the guys I’ve fell for. Like, I found these discarded, but lovely persons that seemingly no one cared for, and all of a sudden, now that I’m in the picture, everybody wants back in because the male’s intrinsic value just shot straight through to the stratosphere, now that they are highly desired.  (Sorry to talk about people in such clinical terms, but it’s the easiest way to describe it).  It’s this real bullshit theme that’s run through my life.  And I guess I’ve gotten pretty good at picking out which one (or ones) are going to be the problem. My intuition does all the heavy lifting, of course, but my prefrontal cortex is charged with making sense of it all. And Harold was the one, above even the presentness of others, that seemed to stick in my craw.

And two, sort of why past is prologue, I got the distinct impression that you may still have feelings for that person, by some of the things you told me.  Not just how much you loved her, or pursued her, and ran after her, but how immediately you fell for her. And you suggested, one night, that we should go to dinner at the restaurant where she works so you could sort of use me to rub her nose in it. Make her eat her heart out or something, with no real regard about how I might feel in that scenario. (Incidentally, like a cheap means to an unnecessary, and rather vengeful end.) And more generally, you made mention a number of occasions, and I’m paraphrasing here, how you didn’t want to treat me poorly because of past women taking advantage of you, often sandwiched with an apology somewhere in there. It seemed clear to me that there was still some unresolved feelings.

These ideas floated in my head, ceaselessly, so I think at a certain point, my brain had to do something. That something was the The Harold Theory of Power Dynamics; a rationale for why I was getting the short end of the stick.  Which I hope by now, you see is riddled with my own demons and painful experiences. I got the distinct impression, albeit, maybe mistakenly, that you really went out of your way, and bent over backwards for her. In an effort to make her love you, I assume.  She sounds withholding and cold. Which is a perfect platform to rail against. In fact, you have to rail against, because it’s nothing but hardness.  There is no soft landing, or warm place to burrow, so railing, rebelling, or even coaxing and cajoling are all one’s got.

If someone has a low opinion of themselves, they aren’t going to trust anyone that sees real value in them. They are going to unconsciously think that person is either an idiot or a subversive. And they will find no value in the person that finds value in them. So they seem rather nonchalant about losing what amounts to be a valueless person.  No grand gestures or romantic last stands, await them.  Which is squarely my fucking camp.  That’s why the Harolds of the world get sought after, and the loving, pathetic nobodies of the world get their hearts broken. Sincerity doesn’t pay. Real love doesn’t pay. Because the human mind is full of shit. It prefers the dynamic tension of the power struggle to the banal contentment of settled happiness.  (I never said this was a cheerful theory. It’s cynical as fuck.) Oh sure, eventually the men all come around, they finally see the light, but it’s usually too late for me. Too late for me to trust the person or open myself back up. And so, too late for them too. So it’s a real fun time, man. Nobody gets what they want, and another wave of jaded, damaged people get thrust back into the world.

This theory could be totally off-base. I don’t particularly feel that way, but it’s out there to be disproved. That’s the scientific method.  It’s also not as cynical as it seems. It was developed in response to not wanting the same pattern to be repeated here, with us. Even though it looked like it could go that direction.

This overly philosophical, overly analytical shit is part of me, too.

Your neurotic, fucked-up, but very loving girl,

Dear John Letters For the Egomaniacal Man

     Ryan Adams- To Be Without You

     I've never been so alone, as when as I am with you.  I've been alone for years, trapped in a demonic cycle of abuse and begging.   You kept me dangling on the line for so long, and I let you.  I fucking let it all happen.  Because you managed to tap into my inherent feelings of worthlessness.  And you found an effective way to manipulate them for your personal ends.  I kept crawling back for one more crumb or some little scrap of love or affection.  I was so starved I would have taken any bantam shred of putrid garbage you had to toss out.  Like a pathetic junkie, I was addicted to the paltry high of your divided attention, willing to whore myself out for any taste of you.
     My mind has been battered against the rocks, my heart has been stomped and splattered against the curb, and my body has been mangled and distorted beyond recognition.  All for you.  And I still find myself dragging myself through the grime for you.  Like, why can't I understand you will never love me?  Why I am such a dog with a bone for you, and this endless eddy of pain.  I must really hate myself.  I'm such a worthless piece of shit.  That's why I take it.  And that's why I get it.  That's why abuse and heartache will always flow my way.  Because there is nothing I can do to raise my pathetic status.  I'm an untouchable; nothing but third-rate trash.  My grandmother taught me that, and you more than confirmed it.
     I made up everything.  It was all a lie; a figment of my sorry imagination.  We were never married.  We never had a child.  I never had a six-month long nervous breakdown.  You never lied, or cheated, or betrayed me in any way.  I made it all up.  I did everything.  By being an inadequate, unworthy swine before your beatific, archangelic presence.  You were nothing but a saint; I a filthy sinner.  You will surely be canonized upon your death.  A sorrowful day the world over; flags will fly at half mast, and the world will never fully experience joy again, undoubtedly.  I am not even a human worthy of kneeling before you.  I am but a squalid fly upon your perfumed and cherished shit.
      You're so right, supreme ruler of everything sacred and musical.  Everything you did to me was harmless, because I am so meaningless, cheap and small.  I am not deserving of any human emotions, let alone your consideration, because even that is too privileged for an animal; this insect.  And certainly, no one would bat an eyelash if the king happened to step upon an ant on one of his stately parades.  It is a necessity of your kingdom to brandish yourself to your adoring subjects.  I am expendable; a mere servant, set upon this Earth to labor on the behalf of those greater than I.  It is I who is ungrateful to you, kind sir, for taking in this wayward soul, and giving her life meaning by bestowing the great honor of serving at your feet.  Of course Master gets angry!  For he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.  Great men face great pressure, with an intensity that the likes of this wretched pissant could never possibly comprehend.  God save the King!
     I'm tired of crying through the aisles of the grocery store like an asshole.  I'm sick of feeling like I don't exist.  And I can't stand another day when you make me feel like I am insane for remembering the fucking truth; for understanding reality.  Your constant negation of the past five years is enough for me to hate you forever, without ever having to dip into the events of those years for fuel for my contempt.  I tried and tried and tired.  Nothing ever fucking worked.  I gave every fucking thing I had to you.  I always went without so you could feel better.  I took hit after hit for you.  You would knock me down, you would fuck me over; dog me out, and I'd just swallow it all down, and wait on my knees for the next briny load.  Like a beggarly crack whore.  Sure, maybe I'd eventually make a halfhearted play at standing up for myself, but I never really followed through.  You took all my strength.  You were sure to suck that up first thing, with your vampiric forethought. 
     Then you started to unravel all of my outside relationships, to make sure I was good and alone; totally dependent on you.  The day my father died was the best day of your life.  No wonder you weren't worried when he was dying in the hospital.   No wonder you didn't care to be there for me, or mourn his death.  No wonder you went to work instead of being by my side.  Not only did you hold me in the lowest reaches of your contempt, but you hated anyone that showed you up in the masculinity department, and especially any one that could have saved me from you.  Boy, how he tried.  You're still trying to undo his protections.
     Then, I suppose it was easy to turn everyone against me, so I felt like not only did I have no where else to turn for friendship, but all that was out in the world were enemies.  God, you sure gleaned every detail of manipulation your hulking gorilla-head could absorb from those cult leaders of yours.  Hell, they did most of the work for you.  Every deplorable, lascivious minion slithering out of the gutter, and slinking out of the shadows to avail themselves to your ultimate and ambivalent will.  How the world just unfurls itself for your momentary pleasure.  Too bad you'll never really experience it; as your total anhedonia prevents you from ever actually knowing pleasure.  That must really fucking suck.  Sure, I get kicked the fuck around, sliming around with the lowest of the low emotions, but as least I have the ability to feel pure euphoria if it ever chances by.  All you'll ever feel is some cheap, artificially induced facsimile.
     Is it any wonder that I needed someone to resuscitate my lifeless, tattered body?  I know you think it was all some scheme to hurt you, or some kind of Sicilian vendetta revenge plot, but it was and continues to be about me and finding the power to break myself free of this addiction I've had for you since the moment I first laid my sad eyes upon you.  I could feel the enslavement wash over my body, then begin to course through my veins; it didn't just become part of me, it became me.  It consumed every part of who I was before I knew you existed, and laid waste to any memory of life before you.  It became impossible to live without you.  I couldn't breathe, I couldn't eat; I couldn't sleep.  Before we even spoke, only exchanging electric glances, I was in love with you.  I was living and breathing solely for you.  I felt my heart sink into my shoes, when I thought you had gone, that bitter winter night.  I was prepared to do anything it took to find out who you were.  It turns out you were the devil all along.
     Even as I write this scathing indictment of you and I, I am imagining a scenario where this fiery hell-pit of abuse and despair masquerading as a hopelessly romantic love affair could actually work the fuck out.  Which just proves how permanently brain-damaged I am from this whole fucking charade.  I'll never be the same.  I'll never get over it.  I am always going to be fucked up because of you and this cloven-footed union.
     Some part of me is always going to be up for the masochism.  Because some part of me is always going to feel like an insignificant, inadequate piece of shit that deserves every ounce of pain and hurt that happens my way.  Just for being such a disgusting asshole taking up space and resources that could be better utilized for the good humans of the world; the worthwhile.  I shouldn't even be allowed to breathe the same air as you, as my exhalations will only contaminate and besmirch the fineness and delicacy of real, deserving humans.
     I can't unsee your blackened soul.  I can't unfeel your fall from grace.  I put you so high above me on that gilded throne, I would have done anything for you, and very nearly have.  It is truly grotesque to imagine your once august body, now decrepit and gangly slamming to the petrous depths of Hell and surviving, surely because of some devil's bargain you struck long ago.  You still trick me into feeling bad for you, as is the nature of demons, I suppose.  I must cast you out of my soul; divorce by exorcism.  I don't see another way out.  But you are a sneaky, devilish fiend, and you'll always find a way to slither back into my soul.  How can something that has caused me such sadness be so hard to let go of?  It must be a diabolical illusion.

Tom Waits- Way Down in the Hole

Autoerotic Love Letters For the Bohemian Man

I can't stop thinking about your granite cock.  I can't stop thinking about the way your mouth and tongue played upon the nape of my neck, making me moan reflexively, like a helpless child. I conceded all power to you, in that moment.  The way your rough, masculine skin, felt beneath my scintillated finger tips.  I just want to wade in the iridescent blueness of your sorcery.

"Yeah, and on a night when the lazy wind is a-wailing, around the Cutty Sark, the single-handed sailor goes sailing, sailing away in the dark." ~ Mark Knopfler Single-Handed Sailor

The thought of your fat cock in my mouth.  Throat-fucking me.  Tasting every inch of you; running my tongue from the thick base of your dick, slowly up to swollen head, rubbing the tip across my lips, before allowing myself to devour its entirety.  I just want to worship at the alter of your cock.  And the ultra-satisfying moment when I can feel your orgasm building as it courses through your rock-hard shaft, you throw your head back against the wall; contorting your body, and unloading in my waiting mouth.  "This is the best blowjob I've ever had in my life, baby.  You are such a good girl.  You're my good little girl, baby."

"And yawning under all those bowls was the upturned mouth of the biggest bowl of them all...a regular Beelzebub of a bowl, bone dry and insatiable...waiting, waiting, waiting for that first sweet drop." ~ Kurt Vonnegut, The Sirens of Titan

I fucking need your contact high.  I haven't eaten or slept in days, yet my energy is being culled from an ancient source.  My primal id need only feast on unadulterated passion.  I'm running on primordial fumes of debased, animal lust.  I just want to be your good little sex bunny; to make you so happy and sate your every appetite.

I want to burn with that event horizon.  The flash of intense heat and light that streaks across the nocturnal inked sky, illuminating the universe for only the briefest of seconds.  And in that withering second all is revealed, and every emotion that ever existed is felt.

"Everything that ever has been always will be, and everything that ever will be has always been." ~Winston Niles Rumfoord

As if the true romantics aren't always awaiting their next spectacular disaster.  Maudlin sadomasochists like us need reasons to feel like shit about ourselves so all is right with the world.  I know I can come off tough, or cool, or like a jaded fuckdoll, but I'm truly delicate; so vulnerable.  So if you plan on wrecking me, you better do it in thrilling fashion. Make the pain worth my while.  Smash me into a thousand little pieces.  Just rip me asunder; tear me open, mother fucker.  Because I can't handle some half-ass heartbreak.  I don't want any coy bullshit; cut me with the full length of your rusted blade of furor. 

"The love song must resonate with the susurration of sorrow, the tintinnabulation of grief...for just as goodness cannot be trusted unless it has breathed the same air as evil..." ~Nick Cave, on love and pain

How can I go back to a tedious, decaying life, once I've bore witness to the burning grease fire that is you?  I could very easily get addicted to that level of chaos.  To your intoxicating freneticism; this blurry ribbon of color in a sea of dull nobodies.  My drug of choice. 

"Come writers and critics who prophesize with your pen, and keep your eyes wide, the chance won't come again." ~ Bob Dylan, The Times, They Are A-Changin'

You saw what you wanted and you fucking took it.  Like it always should have been yours.  Bravado, the slightest hint of arrogance, abstraction, sentiment, and raw sexual power.

The way you slick your hair back with both hands greased in sweat and my desire, as you kneel over me.  Cavalierly aware you are in total control.  You lean in and slither into my ear,  "I wanted to fuck your ass as soon as I saw you standing over the jukebox.  I knew I was going to fuck you from the first second I saw you."

"You are my sex goddess, aren't you?  My little nymph."  It echoes in my head, taking me right back to that indigo-gray tableau.  Your engorged, throbbing cock impaling my trembling little slit, making me whimper and beg for more.

"Shake it, Sugaree.  I'll meet you at the jubilee.  And if that jubilee don't come, baby, I'll meet you on the run." ~ Jerry Garcia, Sugaree

Watching you stride in, looking so fucking cool; devil-may-care, like the lost New York Doll. The crimson incandescence of the dive bar, the shudder I felt when you put your hand on the small of my back in those first minutes, playing records.  The way you ran your hand up the alabaster smoothness of my legs, unafraid.  I knew I would let you kiss me, and touch me; I wanted your poison. Walking through the desolate, mist-shrouded streets, along the train tracks.  Vampires of the night; drawing the other's blood.  The inherent symbolism in handing you my keys.  Feeling like we already knew each other.  Maybe in another life, or just somewhere in the dark recesses of our subconscious; longing for some negative astral phantasm of ourselves.

"The night's too quiet stretched out alone.  I need the whip of thunder and the winds dark moan." ~Tom Waits, Make It Rain

The Road to Hell is Paved With Good Intentions

    The following treatise was written in the fall of 2016, in response to a series of situations and bizarre goings-on, that had tormented my landscape, after I had exhausted every other reasonable possibility or solution I could think of.   The impetus for this particular writing was that my husband, wanting to move some equipment out of his parents' house, was subjected to a barrage of chastisements, guilt-trips, and manipulations, culminating with his family actually sending a hand-written letter to him, in the creepiest and most humiliating fashion possible; through the God-damned piano movers, charged with moving said equipment.  Because, you know, email is so complicated, and, uh, discreet.
     I held back on publishing this piece because I didn't want to create any more of a back-and-forth.  I just wanted them to leave us alone.  But I see that is impossible now; there is no high road in trench warfare.  The sheer amount of bullshit, cut-from-whole-cloth lies, and projection that has been whispered, slurred or stuttered to every bar fly to ever hold up a stool in the tri-county area, about me and my little family, has been officially confirmed, by someone who doesn't want to get in the middle of it, of course.  (But alas, I think that ship has sailed.)  It's not like I didn't already think that, based on the behaviors and demeanor of those I casually came into contact with.  It's not like I didn't have any inkling; all I ever had were inklings. I just didn't have corroboration for my hunches.  And now I do.
     I really don't care for childish shit like this.  It's stupid, illogical, and doesn't solve any problems; only perpetuates them.  But that's how most people like to handle things, I guess.  I'm in the minority.  You'd think, at some point, in middle age or beyond, people would be able to evolve past adolescent whims.  But, nah.  So if you can't beat 'em, join 'em! Am I right?
     For the record, I may be a lot of things, but a couple of things I am not is illogical nor dishonest.  I've built my whole philosophy around truth-seeking, mainly because my brain, or my conscience, wouldn't allow it any other way.  These are concepts I take very seriously; they aren't catty rumors to shoot the shit with over tequila shots.  The things I have written here are the truth, interwoven with my observations about those truths and the devastation it has caused.  I've tried several times to solve this problem; directly, and in person, with the people involved.  *I* made that effort, even though the onus wasn't on me to do so.  I did that because my husband was hurting, and his hurting was in turn hurting my daughter and I.  And the bullshit kept piling up; it was inescapable.  It put a huge strain on our marriage, which, I'm sure, was the penultimate goal.  There was this creepy undertone to the whole affair, like I was the mistress and his mother was the wife he would never leave.  Try dealing with that nastiness.  
    The other parties involved did not make any effort, beyond bald-faced lies and/or shirking of responsibility.  I am not going to be the scapegoat for years of dysfunction and psychological abuse.  There was 40 years of problems mounting before I even met any of these players.  A person doesn't turn to multiple addictions because they are so happy and fulfilled with their life.  Sorry, but that's the truth.  I've had to learn more about addiction, dysfunctional family dynamics, and enmeshment than I've ever cared to.  But I did so in an effort to educate myself in hopes that my husband and I could work out some of these problems, for some semblance of happiness, and at the very least, for the sake our child.  So she doesn't have to grow to be a fucked-up adult, unable to cope with life's lemons.
     On what planet, is a mother going to allow her child to be around people that not only think it wise to badmouth that mother, but think it is acceptable to manipulate the father, and use the child as a pawn in a sick, selfish game?  The only rumor floating around that they got right, was that my daughter doesn't have any contact with my husband's parents.  Because I don't trust them.  And my daughter isn't going to be around anyone I don't trust.  Her safety and well-being is paramount.  It is my job to protect her from this type of thing.  Honestly, I punish myself for not making that decision sooner.  I tried so hard to be agreeable, and reasonable, and just extricate myself.  But that wasn't enough.  She shouldn't be subjected to people and situations in which too many red flags persist.  Without trust, forgiveness doesn't even come into play.
     I was fine with just letting this lie, but others were not.  I've asked several times to be left alone by these people, as I don't want anything to do with people that think I'm such an awful, brain-washing, adulterous cunt.  But still they pestered, manipulated, harassed; showing up at events, sending unwelcome, "anonymous" packages in the mail, attempting to cajole my widowed mother on several occasions with sob stories and bribes, and spreading lies to anyone stupid enough to listen.  We don't want gifts or bribes, because it's too little, too late for that.  They didn't feel the need to get our daughter so much as a Christening gift back before the falling out; so why these gifts now?  Hollow holiday packages aren't going to erase the damage or pain caused by repeated selfishness, abject schemes, and obvious double-dealing.  But it sure would be a great way to look like the poor, underappreciated grandma, cast aside by cruel ingrates, without ever having to walk the walk.  "I send them gifts, and flowers, and cards; I never even get so much as a 'thank you.'"  There are no 'thank yous' forthcoming because, we've repeatedly asked them to stop sending us things.  That request is not respected, at all.  How is that demonstrating some change of heart?  How does that demonstrate that things will be different this time around?  These are just tiny straws upon the heap of horseshit that led to this very measured distance.  
      Further, if everyone out there cares about my husband as much as they purport to, why is just calling him up and asking him how he is doing, so fucking hard?   And, why would I ever, even once,  have to be the conduit?  Unless the motivations are less than pure, like trying to cause problems, for sinister amusement or revenge.  Also, what must these people think of their so-called friend, if they believe these stories about him being some hen-pecked weenie.  That's not exactly complimentary to this dear friend of theirs.  Ugh.  Why does everything and everyone have to be so creepy and weird?!  Why all the subversion?  Why all the secrets and whispers?  How is that friendship?  How is that family?  How is that love? Why would it ever have to get to this point?  Again and again. This carousel never stops.

      If I was all these things they said I am, why does Chris stay?  He is not a prisoner here.  He's not tethered to the fucking wall.  I'm the one home every day and every night with our daughter, while he is out at his party job.  It's not exactly working in a coal mine.  What type of prison allows the inmates out on the town, while the warden and the guards are stuck behind the prison walls?  That's one hell of a sentence.  I'm not some vindictive, calculating shrew with an axe to grind.  I'm a genuine person, once full of love, now full of obligation, but I'm certainly no one's whipping boy.  Nor do I want a whipping boy of my very own.  I wanted a partner.  I've given every fucking thing I have to make this family work, even my sanity.  If I didn't truly love my husband, why would I subject myself to this garbage?  This petty, spiteful, callow creepiness.  What would be the fucking point?  Why not just turn him loose? Why not just leave this disturbing, incestuous vortex as far behind me as possible?  This isn't a fucking joke, God damn it.  You're trifling with things that actually matter to me.  Things that are vital to my daughter's development.  Things that I've built my whole life around.  That he's centered his world around.  Things that are pure, and good, and genuine.  Why wouldn't I defend them, go to bat for them, with everything I have?

This is my response to all the allegations and manipulations.

                                                                *****


     It must be great to live in a complete fantasy world where nothing is ever your fault and things only happen *to* you.  Never because of you.  So you are free to glean all the sympathy and negative attention you can manipulate from others in an effort to satisfy some scorned part of you.  That brand of crazy must be nice. Just hit the old crack pipe and the world can become whatever contorted trash you dream up.  Never having to deal with any pesky bouts of conscience or self-awareness; thereby removing all risk of shame and any roadblocks put up by trifles like decency or morality.  Personality disorders are supremely efficient that way.
  The New York Dolls- Personality Crisis 

    I know I've heard the word crazy thrown in my direction over the years. But I'm not crazy, I'm neurotic. There's a big difference. That difference lies in a hypersensitivity and a hyper-awareness.  In fact, I think the word neurotic is just academic shorthand for painfully aware of their own shortcomings.  And in most cases, a compulsive need to overachieve to make up for those shortcomings.  Neurotics take too much responsibility for things, in an attempt at control, whereas crazy narcissists take none at all.  Typically, neurotics tend to be ambitious, Type A personalities, whereas personality disorder types tend to be crazy, flighty, loser-y messes that can never quite amount to anything. Because they don't seek improvement. In their own eyes they are perfect.  And how does one improve upon perfection?
Ween- Happy Colored Marbles

     You don't get to perpetuate this bullshit with impunity.  You could have taken the breaks and bowed out gracefully.  You could have gave a shit, listened, and took it seriously.  You chose not to. How many character attacks, lies, manipulation and years did it take for me to fire back? To fight fire with fire? Almost three years, this has been going on.  Ratchet-Face "is not the first girl she's run out on a rail." ~JSJ on your family patterns, one night at Northern Lights.  How lovely. You all thought I'd be easy pickin's.  The old chestnut 'mistook my kindness for weakness' seems germane.  But maybe it was more like you mistook my apathy for successful manipulation.  I'm the type of person that keeps most people at arm's length.  Only a very select few get to know the parts of me that I give a shit about.  The rest is just fun and games, really, in the interest of wasting time, and harmony.  But really, arm's length was even too close for you people.  It's also too bad "reputation" and whatever bullshit people think of me doesn't matter much.  But it certainly shows your true colors.  You thought somehow you could badmouth someone, spread lies about them, try to hurt them, meddle in their marriage, hurt their child and that you would somehow still come out smelling like a god-damned rose?  When you act that vile and crazy, you're bound to be exposed. 

 Lou Reed- Vicious

     Further, if you all cared about him so much and you really believed all this bullshit about me "brainwashing" him, then why didn't any of you try to reach out to him, call him, email him, text him, or better yet rescue him?  It's seems like a lot of armchair quarterbacking for such a serious problem...[cue world's biggest fucking eye roll.]  No one ever even bothered to call him just to ask how he's doing.  Not once, yet extended family members' opinions sure abound.  Isn't that quaint?  Yet, that is what everyone claims their big concern is.  That they just care about Chris, so they are saying this shit.  Uh-huh.  That sure is a funny way of showing you care about someone.  To completely ignore them, and attack their spouse (or in your eyes, "spousal problem") to try and cause misery.  Yeah, that's not fucking crazy, or drama-fueled at all...  I know you know you're full of shit.  You have to.  You know you're fucked up.  You know you fucked him up. You know you've tried to break up all his relationships, including my marriage. You just don't want other people to know what you did. It's understandable, since it is so deplorable.
Drive-By Truckers- Assholes

     It's all about image and looks. And as a secondary benefit in your effort to not look like the assholes you really are, you're lapping up all the sympathy your distended bellies can hold.  It's a little hard to believe you're "suffering in silence" or dealing with this with a "quiet stoicism" yet everybody (and their brother!) knows about it and is trying to get (albeit, lazily) involved. Yet, again, no one bothered to ask Chris about how he feels. Funny.  I guess your word is absolute gospel.  No other side to the story, no sir.  I certainly hope you divulged all gory details about the emotional incest, how you made him your surrogate husband when yours wasn't cutting the mustard.  How you hated any one that Chris was with, how you would arbitrarily and unilaterally compete with them for his love, call them by previous girlfriends' names, and tried to undermine those relationships at every turn. Or how you begged to babysit my infant daughter, several times, but wouldn't feed her or change her diaper any of those times.  And still asked to babysit again!  You must think I am really fucking stupid.  How about when you snuck into the house when we weren't home to leave articles on the desk to persuade Chris to put Dolly to sleep on her stomach after your constant nagging about it didn't work.  Even though EVERYONE, even people without kids, know you put babies to sleep on their backs to prevent SIDS. (Seriously, psychos look it the fuck up). It seems like you wanted something to happen there.  Too much competition for ya?
The Ramones- Danny Says

     I hope you told them about how you jerked Chris around about his substance abuse problems. Advocating that he not see a therapist because "there are a lot of quacks out there."  And you would know, because you've lined the pockets of plenty of them! And that he was "not stumbling down the street" or "sleeping under a bridge," (I thought that was trolls?) so he must be fine, and therefore  doesn't need help for his addictions.  Even when he told you face to face the problems he was suffering with, you pretended to understand and care, and then turned your back on him again.  Then he poured his heart out to you in letters that you never bothered to respond to.  I've never seen such selfishness in my whole life. And I've known some really shitty people.  To be so narcissistic as to deny your son has a problem, so he won't go to treatment, so no one ever has to find out how badly you fucked him up.  So no one would find out your deep, dark secrets.
Shel Silverstein- I Got Stoned and I Missed It

      I would find it kind of hilarious, if it wasn't so sad, that the only tool in your belt is manipulation by guilt.  That's one of the main reasons he doesn't want a relationship with you. The constant manipulations. Which he's spelled out to you. Many times. In letters and conversations.  He's learned to recognize the manipulations for what they are, but it doesn't stop it from hurting him.  Yet that's the tactic you've chosen to employ time and time again, and then have your henchmen employ, when your manipulations were falling flat. What a fucking joke, man. Do you see how ridiculous that makes you all look?  You seem like you'll go to any shameless length available to try to get him back into "the family" clutches.  Those all-important, so-desirable family clutches, that smells a lot like a creepy cult.  All but one length, of course. The only one that really matters or could have some effect; fundamental behavioral change!
Allen Toussaint- Chokin' Kind

     Specifically, oh I don't know, taking responsibility for all the trouble you deliberately tried to cause in an effort to suit your own selfish needs, with a complete disregard for the needs of others, including, but not limited to, your grandchild.  And, uh, you know, NOT FUCKING DOING IT ANYMORE! But oh no.   You're right.  It's better to keep widening that gap, which is the size of the Grand fucking Canyon by now, with even more derision, delusion, and manipulation. You refuse to listen to him, which shows how little you care about him.  That's why he's not coming back. He doesn't feel loved or supported. He feels used and abused.  He never knew the difference before.  He does now.  Because that's not how genuine love works.  It's not conditional and brimming with guilt. With a bunch of sycophantic praise piled on top to keep him strung out and on-edge.  It's not full of lies and secrets. It's not creepy and inappropriate.  You didn't want him getting help because you wanted him to remain helpless.  To manipulate and control your little protege.

The Sprague Brothers- Better Believe

     You don't get to treat people like absolute garbage, then wheedle around for sympathy from others, when those you abused don't want to talk to you anymore. Who told you it worked like that?  Sounds a lot like emotional Munchausen's By Proxy. You go around deliberately acting nasty and being abusive, and when those you abused get fed up and tell you to fuck off, you then get all sorts of attention and sympathy from family, friends, or basically anyone who will listen to your self-inflicted, bogus tales of woe about how your son is an ungrateful asshole because his wife brainwashed him not to love you.  Yeah, that sounds plausible. It couldn't possibly have anything to do with your own shitty, narcissistic, crazed behavior that caused him to turn to substance abuse and sex addiction in the first place, long before I ever knew him, lady.  Nope! That's too logical!  And as much as I think your husband is a sexist, selfish asshole who should have been there for his son instead of up his own ass; I sure see why he wanted to go to the bar every night to get drunk!  You're fucking nuts, lady.  No one could handle that shit. There are Buddhist monks that would crack under your regime.  Yikes!  Your son didn't stand a chance.
Merle Haggard- Tonight The Bottle Let Me Down

     Also, how could EVERY FUCKING GIRL he's ever dated be wrong for him? Every last one. Your dysfunctional family was the only constant within all of those relationships, the girlfriends were the variables.  You all were the common denominators, not me.  So, how could this be all my fault, when you had problems with every single person he dated?  You bad mouthed every one of them, to me, in person.  Sometimes when we would go to the zoo, or Greenfield Village, or other times at the botanical gardens on Belle Isle, or on one of your outings to the thrift store you'd drag me along to.  Yeah, remember all those activities?  He said you never did any of those things with the "other" girlfriends.  I have to wonder why that is.  I asked him about it, he said it was because he was so excited about me that he told you guys that it was serious this time; really hyped it up. That was his first fucking mistake.  He and I both thought you wanted to forge an actual friendship at first; he, because he didn't want to believe you were that awful and manipulative, and I, because I didn't fucking know any better.  I didn't know any of you or the fucked-up dynamic I was walking into.  But I do know now, it has been bullshit from jump street. 
Uncle Tupelo- So-called Friend

     I see now it was a subversive tactic, to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. You weren't exactly reinventing the wheel, but it sure fooled me, for a while. You should actually be ashamed of yourself. You aren't.  But you should.  All you guys do is take advantage of people for your own personal gain. Chris has done it to me so many times.  I see where he gets it from.  The rotten apple doesn't fall far from the demented tree.  You have no fucking feelings, conscience or remorse. It's like you're these soul-sucking, callous robots. Everything you do is clunky and loud. You're not expert con men. You're amateurs who take emotional advantage of cornered people in sensitive situations.  You are just grasp-at-straws, two-bit hustlers, letting your feelings get in the way of success every god damned time.  That's how you ended up in the position you are in now.
Sublime- Foolish Fool (Acoustic)

     You now treat his wife and daughter like they don't exist.  (After the manipulation/trickery, then the garbage treatment didn't work.) Yeah, that's not going to work either.  We are his family. Fucking chew on that.  You try to separate him from the herd in an effort to lure him back into your fold(s).   He had that. He wanted out and he got out. He doesn't want back in. He doesn't want to be accepted back into the family "with open arms."  Especially if that means he leaves his wife and daughter behind. You really don't get it, do you? The messages aren't being received. Someone in that twisted brain of yours is censoring your mail. He doesn't want a relationship with you because it is *awful.*  He's not torn.  He's relieved.  Do you understand?  Fucking relieved!!!  That level of dysfunction, the narcissism, the emotional incest: it all took a devastating toll on him and in turn my daughter and I.  He doesn't want that gross inappropriateness.  What person in their right mind would? ( Another reason to keep him on drugs, right?!)
Tom Waits- House Where Nobody Lives

      I know he allowed you to believe it was me, (as was your knee-jerk reaction, as to not have to take responsibility for your dirty deeds) for a time, so he could come out smelling like a rose too, get sympathy from you, whilst not really have to deal with you; guilt-free.  It was the best of all possible worlds for him.  He definitely played a role in this breakdown, no question.  He was just following the long-standing family tradition.  You were all manipulating and scamming each other, simultaneously and continually.  Which is kind of fucking hilarious.  And fucking pathetic.  You can keep trying to blame me, but you know damn well it wasn't me.  That's why the family mouthpiece is conspicuously silent this time around.  You are the villains. And you have been from the start, I just didn't know it then.  He told me he couldn't go back even if he wanted to, because he can't unsee the things he's seen.  He can't recover the things he's uncovered.  I see why you didn't want him digging around in his brain for answers.  Why you'd rather teach him to pretend and hold all his emotions in; so you could do whatever you wanted to him without fear of reprisal.  It's pretty hard to "brainwash" a forty year old man, set in his ways.  But it's a hell of a lot easier to brainwash an impressionable child starved for love and affection.  So it seems rather interesting that's the accusation you keep throwing my way.  Textbook projection.
Tom Waits- A Good Man is Hard to Find

     This vilification is also getting you no where. It's actually impeding any type of progress.  I didn't start one fucking part of this.  And I'm not taking the blame for your son or any of you.  Fuck that and fuck you for trying to pin this on me.  I'm not your fucked-up family's scapegoat.  I was quiet for a while, because I just wanted to be left alone.  And the best way to beat a manipulator or a shit-starter is to completely deny access.  But you just wouldn't fucking quit.  You kept on trying to fuck with me, you kept right on fucking with your son any way you could, and you thought using my daughter as a pawn to tug at the heartstrings of those around me was going to get you somewhere, other than burning in hell.  That was a mistake. Fucking huge.  You want to keep talking trash, then I guess I'm just going to have to take to the bully pulpit.  I'm not going to let you break up my family. To make us miserable like you. I'm not going to let you spread your filthy cover-up lies to everyone to make me look like the villain and you like some pitiable martyr anymore.
Ry Cooder- Waitin' For Some Girl

     You should have left us alone. Instead you decided to continue your reign of terror. You don't care about that son you purport to miss so much. You just care about yourself.  He's not missing out on some great relationship with you. You're the ones missing out on a relationship with him.  He can breathe for the first time in his life. Your madness sucks all the oxygen out of the room. You're completely out of your mind; totally irrational. And no one can deal rationally with an irrational lunatic.  You were given chances to make this right, and you chose to talk out of both sides of your mouth instead. You chose to double-down on the guilt and manipulation, instead of making some sort of concerted effort or even keeping your word.  You chose to believe you were more deserving than everyone; that your happiness was paramount, so you didn't need to take into account the words your son or I spoke to you.  You chose to put on that tired song-and-dance act, instead of taking a hard look at yourself to see how to improve the situation.  You chose to deny his feelings, not to mention mine, and to deny the truth, so you could keep up this charade that provides you with that sympathy you crave so deeply.  That shows there is no fixing this.  That shit is on you. You fucked up, repeatedly.  I tried. He eventually tried. You didn't try.  No one else tried.  Simple. Simple. Simple.
John Lennon- Gimme Some Truth

      I'm fed up with your bullshit. I have been for a long time.  Chris has been for years, but only recently did he have the strength to do anything about it.  Why should he keep subjecting himself to your abuses?  I can't respect people like you because you don't respect anyone but yourself.  You think somehow, you are more deserving than everyone else.  And you're an especially egregious offender because you wrap it all up on this 'wronged little old lady' package to not only get away with these depraved offenses, but to suck up all the sympathy you can scrounge, for the (deserved) backlash that eventually befalls you. What a load of horseshit.
Lucinda Williams- Price to Pay

     Bottom line: you weren't on board with Chris' life choices so you staged a mutiny. You didn't want him getting sober, you didn't want him getting married, you didn't want him having a family of his own, you didn't want me moving in with him. (Or anyone) At weast not without askwing his mommy fwirst... So you decided to mutiny. But your coup attempt backfired. You lost. You were made to walk the plank instead of me.  Now I'm sure you're sore from all that water you've had to tread and the sun baking your sagging skin, but mutineers aren't allowed back on board. Sorry. Those are the rules. The trust has been obliterated.  You swung for the fences, but you struck out. That's the way the cookie crumbles. There is no taking it like a gentleman, I suppose. How many more metaphors crammed into this will it take to get you to fucking understand?  But really, I'm foolish to think that a crazed, egomaniacal mutineer would have any ethics to begin with.  Let alone ones to fall back on in the face of an embarrassing defeat.
Warren Zevon- Mutineer

  I also find it particularly piquant that you bitch and bitch about Chris not talking to you, but when he does try to communicate with you, you shut him down at every turn.  You try to cut him off, or interrupt; never bothering to listen.  Or you simply just ignore him.  He'll send you emails or texts, and all he gets back is radio silence.  You've got some damn nerve.  Go fuck yourself, lady.  He's poured his heart out to you many times; you didn't even think twice about double-crossing him.  "Fuck him for not kissing my ass for all that I did for him, right?"  But it's really more about the stuff you did to him, not for him.  And it's certainly not about what he "should" be doing for you, and according to you.  In general, people tend to not like to be around people that are miserable sons-of-bitches all the time.  It makes them feel shitty, and they don't like it, so they tend to avoid situations and people that make them feel that way.  That's why guilt is employed; it's the only way to keep them coming back for more abuse.  It's just sort of a natural pattern I've observed.  Consider it a helpful tip from me to you.  And stop lamely acting surprised that this happened.  It's fucking stupid.  It is the obvious result of that kind of self-serving, depraved, and greedy behavior.
Jonathan Richman- You Can't Talk to the Dude 

     We are a family unit. We actually love each other.  Despite everything.  Most of the time we just make dumb jokes, laugh, and snuggle on the couch.  It's not a big heap of bullshit like with you all. There isn't a bunch of creepy secrets we have to dance around, so we can actually relax.   That's why honesty is the best policy.  Cheesy as that phrase is, those after-school specials were right!  Most of our problems stem from Chris' lifelong abuse.  Dealing with him and his insecurities is a full-time job.  He needs real love, but he also needs brutal honesty.  Neither of those you could provide for him.  He likes to take, take, take, but all he does is hem and haw when it comes to giving.  It's like he isn't fully formed, just like a boy.  I feel very weird having to teach him things that my parents taught me when I was like five.
Leo Sayer- Giving It All Away

    He is like this wounded bird I am responsible for because he has attached himself to me.  He's like this pitiable pain-in-the-ass that I have to take care of.  I feel responsible for his well-being because I was the one that disillusioned him.  And because he is the father of my child, and she doesn't deserve to have her father be emotionally distant or bankrupt.  I feel like he would be mince meat, back there, in that seedy world.  He has no coping skills other than getting high in an effort to forget and pretend like things are fine.  His coping skills consisted of smoke, mirrors, and self-puffery.  Now he has to deal with his emotions straight up, and it's an agonizing ride.  Because he doesn't have many healthy coping mechanisms, I think anger or fear take over, most of the time.  He really was terrified of you that day in the Village.  He wanted to hide in that CVS, not me.  But I went along with it because I didn't want to push him.  He wasn't ready to confront you, so we just disengaged.  Dolly doesn't need to be a part of that, anyway.  I don't want my daughter around a bunch of lying, selfish, delusional pricks.  They make for shit role-models.  And I don't want to be around that horseshit either.  You keep right on lying to yourselves, and anyone within earshot, but it's not going to get you out of this mess.  Keep beating that tired drum, because you sure are drawing a lot of attention to yourselves, exposing yourselves even further.  There is no contrition, so there is no forgiveness.
Lyle Lovett- God Will  

Post Script:
     The funniest part of all this, to me, is your cheap tactic of claiming I'm the "real" manipulator.  Boy, it just stinks to high hell.  Because that would mean, I've pulled off some sort of long-form con that is nothing short of genius.  Because I have texts, and emails, and time-stamped Facebook conversations from so many of the incidents.  It would have taken this immense and brilliant forethought to have been able to dream all that up, set the stories into motion at just the right times, then cover my tracks by talking to friends about it over text or FB messenger.  By telling the exact same story, at the proper time, to my therapist, my doctor, and my parents.  Just so I could have an extensive and damning paper trail, replete with first-hand reports from healthcare professionals.  All while "brainwashing" your impeccably-raised, supremely intelligent son, somehow, inexplicably defying his wonderfulness with my nefarious brilliance and allure.  Do you understand the magnitude and scale of something like that?  And, I would have had to pull it off all by myself.  That would make me some kind of evil mastermind, to which a lot of fucking credit would be due.  I mean if I did all that, could a fascist dictatorship be far behind?  Why I am wasting these illuminating and intricate skills on just being a stay-at-home mom?  When I could be taking over the world!!!   Or maybe, just maybe, the shit really did go down this way; I'm telling the truth, and you guys really are just fucking lying, conniving assholes.  My money is on the latter.  Especially seeing as how I had zero motive to do any of this.  There is no money, no power nor fame.  There isn't even anything masquerading as love to be gained.  But you and your family certainly have a motive for causing trouble and lying.  You also have a history of this pattern of behavior, not only with your son's previous relationships and marriage, but your brothers' marriages too.  You cut this problem out of whole cloth.  You created this rift with your hysterical flailing.  You're not pinning this on me or him, no matter how hard you try.  Ironically, in an effort to hide what fruitcakes you actually are, you have this hilarious tendency to make yourselves look even more insane.  Nobody wants to listen to your shit, anymore, least of all, your son. 
 The Casinos- Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye