Poor Charlotte

I'm Poor Charlotte, or rather, I'm Charlotte, but I became "Poor Charlotte" when my husband of 25 years started cheating on me. Who knows? Maybe I've been "Poor Charlotte" ever since I met him and I never knew it. I found out that the "Poor" had been added to the "Charlotte" back in January of 2009 when the life that I thought of as relatively happy and carefree took a nasty turn. I asked my therapist if there was a pill that would make me forget everything I'd found out about my husband and I'm only half kidding when I tell you that I would swallow that pill with no regards to the side effects. 


First and foremost I'd like to thank the woman that brought me out of the dark and helped me see the reality of my marriage - "Mom Jeans". I call her that because she's my age and very drab; she actually wears mom jeans. She's not at all pretty but she's somehow under the impression that she's hot. She's a friend of the family and I never for one second considered her a threat to my marriage, but I did begin to take notice of her when she developed an unhealthy interest in my husband. More about that later.


My husband? We'll call him Mr N - "N" for "narcissist", because he's as big of one as you'll ever meet. My girlfriends, my therapist (Dr. Bowtie) , and my priest (Father A)  all agree.


When I found out about my husband's shenanigans I got sad, and mad, and hurt - but I also got even. I have a story to tell - some even call it inspiring - and through the course of this blog you'll learn about one woman's struggle to keep it together and amuse herself when her husband forgot he was married. Getting even can be amusing, especially when the people involved really have it coming to them.


When Mr. N decided to cheat on me, he obviously didn't know who he was dealing with. If I can't stop or control his actions, I can at least make them a little more difficult and and a lot less fun. You won't believe the things I've done to screw with him.


Once, when I was in my therapists's office and whining about something Mr. N had done, Dr. Bowtie laughed and said, "I'm not worried about you. You're a strong woman and you'll be OK."


Eventually, I saw that he was right. Save your "Poor Charlotte", and your pity, for some Charlotte who can't take care of herself.