Sometimes Its A Skank


This was my status message on Facebook Wednesday morning this week because Tuesday night, he walked out:

Today , I do not have to be a caregiver any more. One less thing I need to concern myself with. He walked out last night to go live with a skank Perhaps, this is a part of his process but it isn’t a part mine. I choose something else that doesn’t involve chaos and lies and cheating. It will be no hardship to live without those and a few others things as well. Life with him has always been manic and bumpy with very high peaks and very low valleys. It’s always that middle part that gets him. You know that part where you have to have faith and trust and some integrity. Sometimes, love just isn’t enough.

Sometimes it’s the shiny that gets them. Sometimes it’s the dirt and the smell and the ick they go for. Especially if it has money. Sometimes you just never know what it is; that makes them wander; makes them leave. They just do. You don’t always know why they go to their child’s school bus stop and meet the Skank to play grab ass and suck face like teenagers in front the elementary school kids waiting for the school bus. Sometimes, you just don’t get why they lie as they say they’re taking their child to meet her mother at the bus stop but you knew when he left he was actually meeting the Skank and swearing his 7 year old child to secrecy, making her complicit in his deception, forgetting they didn’t tell her it wasn’t okay to tell neighbors and playmates and their parents. Sometimes they never think about anything but themselves and use their children as an excuse to leave.

And you give them every opportunity to be honest and come clean because you have your suspicions many times and you even tell them you know and please just go and they refuse. Their words are filled with indignant denial at first and then their tone changes to sugary sweet as they tell you they’re going nowhere. It is you that has their heart and you they adore. It is by your word they live or die.


So you walk out the door to take out the trash the day after they leave, a bit fuzzy headed and shocked because you don’t know what you’re going to do, and a neighbor tells you she’s seen him engrossed in clandestine kisses in the car with a disgusting example of a female. When you go to do some laundry, another neighbor has another story of seeing him at the corner burger joint swapping spit with the born-again Skank as his young daughter looks on, munching a french fry. A playmate’s father says his daughter told them she was moving to a house and that her daddy and her mommy and the Skank all get along.

Even when the cat is out of the proverbial bag, the evidence is there and there’s nothing left to lose, they still lie and deny as though they can defy reality and cold, hard facts in the crisp autumn air.