Fem-Whore
When Donkey was a young man of 17, he got his heart busted up by one of the vilest she-witches ever to walk this earth. To protect the innocent, we’ll call her Fem-Whore.
When Donkey met Fem-Whore, she was a 17-year-old recovering meth addict party-girl with a reputation of banging everything that moved. Oh yeah, and she was 3 months pregnant. Ironically, Fem-Whore’s family were ultra-religious Baptists, the kind that love you until they find out you’re not interested in their bullshit religion, at which point they give you the cold shoulder. Ya know, good Christian folk. (side note – I went to their church a few times to humor them, and Ive never seen a higher percentage of teenage pregnancy. It must have been hovering in the mid-80 percentile)
Like many pregnant teens, Fem-Whore had decided to reform her wicked ways. She planned to have the child and then give it up for adoption. She ditched the bad crowd she had run with, stopped doing drugs, and formed a support group for pregnant teens that gained national recognition (OK, so that last one’s not true, but you get the point). Enter the Donkster, fixer and enabler. I fell, and fell hard. I ignored her ignoble past, her “baby-bump,” and her creepy family. All that mattered was being with her.
We were inseparable for months, to the point where her family (who over time came to realize I was a Godless heathen) were encouraging us to spend less time together. I watched her go through all the stages of pregnancy, from the first trimester all the way to the end, when she was practically bursting. And when the time came, I stayed 48 hours straight at the hospital as she gave birth, keeping her company and encouraging her along with her family (who couldn’t wait to adopt the little fetal “sinner” out of their bloodline). When the time came and she had the baby, only to realize that she would never see it again, I comforted her at her bedside while she cried.
Now for the punchline kids! It turns out Fem-Whore was just in some sort of bizarre hibernating phase during those 9 months. Soon after she had expelled her foul, un-Christian seed, I began to notice subtle changes. She started wearing nasty white-trash skirts, got a job at a Target snackbar, and treated me with an underlying disdain that was palpable. Ignorant to the painful truths of life, I assumed it was just a phase. I had seen her through the toughest time in her life; surely she recognized Donkey as her soulmate, right?
So, so wrong. One day a friend of mine called up out of the blue and said he had just seen Fem-Whore at a movie theater kissing her ex-boyfriend, a practicing Satanist with long blond locks and a faint lisp. Incredulous, I called Fem-Whore right away, expecting to have a laugh with her about ridiculousness of idol gossip. Instead, I received an ice-cool admission of guilt, stating that she was through with me and loved being with her ex. It was one of the most damaging moments of Donk’s life, the moment when I truly began to realize the depth of human betrayal and suffering (OK, so I have a flair for the dramatic. F off!) Seriously though, it hurt, and hurt BAD.
A week later, Fem-Whore called me up and said she wanted some pictures of her back (they were Glamour Shots, I shit you not). Just to be a prick, I refused. Satan-Lisp got on the phone and told me if I didn’t give the photos back, “I would be sorry.” (Did I mention the guy weighed about 120?) I told him to go take a flying leap. Well, they had the last laugh on old Donk, because I came to find out from Fem-Whore’s “Robot-for-Jesus” sister that soon after that conversation, the two of them put a Satanic curse on me to commit suicide. And although I’ve never actually attempted it, I did cut my finger once while carving an apple. Coincidence? I think not.
To this day, whenever I think of good ole Fem-Whore, I get a knot in my stomach (in all fairness it could be gas). Its amazing how some old wounds just never quite heal, isnt it? So here’s to Fem-Whore, wherever she may be. Your water broke, and then you broke my heart. Oh yeah, and if you’re reading this, I ended up using your Glamour Shots to pick up dog shit. Face!
Let’s hear about your worst break-up story….good luck topping Donkey though.
[...] Fem-Whore [...]
Ohhhh Poor Donkey! I did however laugh my ass off several times!
Okay, confession time. Earlier this year I hooked up with an ex-bf from my teen years (Zippy). Yes, I knew better, but I did it anyway. Besides the little fact that I am married, there was also the incidental fact that he was in the last stages of his divorce, and not really emotionally stable. But, I was going to be his rock, his shoulder to cry on, and I was going to be the moral support that would allow him to crawl out of her soul stripping grasp.
I found out shortly after we started talking that despite several marriages, an assload of degrees and a quite respectable profession, Zippy had not changed much since his teens and still have the social skills of a 12 year old D&D addict.
Anyway, this all started out innocently enough by us e-mailing and catching up. That turned to bitching about the problems in our life, which led to the confession that our partners lost interest in sex years ago. You can guess the rest.
I thought I was being smart because I had no feelings for him beyond friendship, and even sex was not going to change that. We talked every day. E-mails, phone calls, IMs, text messages – and for 4 months I got to hear about what a selfish, evil monster his soon-to-be was. She would walk all over him and then come back to wipe her feet on his face. His only response was to mutter something after she had left the room. That’s telling her!
As time went on, I went from feeling sorry for both of them for going through what was obviously a painful divorce, to really hating her, even though I didn’t know her. And she didn’t like me, insisting that I was gearing up to take her place.
So, a milestone birthday of his was happening aboout 4 days before his final divorce hearing, and about a month before that, we had made plans to celebrate together. His choice, as his family was not big on birthday celebrations for adults.
Then, a few weeks before, she informed him that she had his entire birthday weekend planned out for him. He called me in a panic, because what was he going to do? I told him to decide what he wanted to do. If it was to spend the weekend with her and the large celebrations she was planning, fine. I was cool with that. But, if he really didn’t want to spend his birthday with the woman he was about to divorce, he had to tell her.
He did, and much screaming, accusations, and drama ensued. She accused him of betraying her by putting me first in his life, since he had made plans with me WITHOUT CHECKING WITH HER FIRST!
Two days of arguing and two more days of incendiary e-mails and he finally told her the subject was closed. He was not spending his birthday with her. Period.
Then his brother informed him that he was having a party on the Saturday after Zippy’s b-day (the day we planned to get together) for one of his kids. The reason sounded suspicious, but I figured Zippy knew his brother better than I, so if he didn’t smell a rat, I should just stay out of it. We changed our plans to Sunday, and figured that was the end of it.
One day his wife showed up at the house where he was living while preparing it for sale and began following him around peppering him with questions and accusations. He said he ignored her. Then she mentioned that it must be nice to take his “girlfriend” to a fancy hotel for his b-day.
When Zippy told me this, I asked him how she could have found out, and he said that he wasn’t sure she did. It could have been a wild guess, or she could have been snooping through his stuff while he was at work (since she still had keys to the house).
He seemed completely unconcerned, and was quite annoyed at me for dwelling on this development. My concern was that if she knew where and when we were going, she could show up and cause a scene.
As I was yet trying to find out if she actually knew of our plans, I asked Zippy if she knew about the party on Saturday, which would pretty much tell her that our plans were for Sunday. He told me that of course she knew about the party, since she was attending with him.
I was stunned. This woman dumps him, sticks him with two mortgages while she moves out to her own apartment, commands his every waking moment even after she moves out, and has generally been the bitch from hell the past few months. Yet 4 days before the divorce she is attending a family party with him? He was surprised that I found this odd, since she had beena part of the family for 10 years, so why not?
I tried to be reasonable. I really did, but I figured she had completely removed his balls, or Zippy was just nuts. I asked him if it ever occured to him that the sneaky bitch had set up a surprise party for him by talking to his brother. After, of course, he insisted he did not want a party and did not want to spend any part of his birthday with her.
Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. He told me I had no right to call his wife a bitch. He was right and I apologized. Profusely. He said he accepted my apology, and I assumed that meant forgiveness. No.
The next day I called him to find out if we still were on for Sunday and he said no. When I asked why (I mean, come on, I say one wrong thing and you can’t let it go?), he told me that my calling his wife a bitch made him realize he still had deep feelings for her.
Um, okay. So, I asked if they were reconciling, which led to another wave of disgust from him that I would even think such a thing.
Still confused I asked him what had suddenly changed. I mean, one minute the guy is joking with me and laughing and wants to jump my bones, and the next minute he is freezing me out.
Okay, you have feelings for your wife, who is divorcing you in about a week. Suddenly I am someone you can’t even stand to speak to?
Well, then Zippy tells me that yes, she did find the confirmation for our hotel reservation, which he “accidentally” left lying around. She is insanely jealous and very, very hurt, so not only are we not going to be celebrating his birthday, but he needs about a month or so to decide if he still wants to be friends.
Okaaaayyyy… One more question: If he had such deep feelings for his wife, why would he sleep with me? I mean, I know lust is a powerful thing and we both were looking for something we were missing, but it still didn’t seem right. At this point Zippy informed me that he only slept with me to get back at his wife. I was convenient and willing. He wanted to make her jealous, and since he accomplished that, he no longer wanted me in his life.
Oh, yeah, and the icing on the cake is that his “give me about a month” thing was his way of not being man enough to say right out to take a hike. I know that “I’ll call you” is a classic blow-off line, but after months of daily communication, don’t I deserve the truth?
Okay, so the being used thing hurt. The cold, callous way he handled it hurt. Losing a person I considered a good friend hurt. And it sucker punched me really bad. Hubs knew of my friendship with Zippy, but there was no way he was buying that a simple argument would have me so upset. So, the truth came out, and I was prepared to find myself and my belongings on the street. Fortunately, Hubs is a very nice person. He told me that he would never kick me out, but we should plan on filing for divorce. Yeah, my own fault, but one more needle through the brain.
The real kicker, though, was that being in a marriage with a guy who is not the least bit attracted to me has reduced my self-esteem to practically zero. My health problems have increased exponentially over the last few years and my body has changed for the worse. Yet, for all the months that Zippy and I were involved, he told me how sexy I was. That being attractive is about more than looks. And I believed him. I actually felt sexy again. Then to find out it was only lines he was using to get me in bed … well, I will just give up now and start wearing potato sacks and a bag over my head.
I spent a month beating myself up and feeling sorry for myself. Now I have relegated the incident to the chapter of stupid, cringe-worthy things I have done in my life. The main point being that I KNOW better! I’ve been around the block a few times and even before the lines began, getting involved in any emotional way with a guy who brought up so many red flags was just sheer stupidity.
Hubs has decided not to pursue a divorce. This hasn’t helped make me any more attractive in his eyes, but I did learn he is a very forgiving and loving guy. I mainly regret that in my short-signtedness in wanting to get some action, I never considered how deeply I would hurt him.
But, karma is a bitch. Yeah, I will have to deal with karma, too. But I figure Zippy will get his heart broken again. Not because I wish it, but because he does not have the social aptitude to find the right woman and treat her decently. I was never his future, but treating a friend decently never hurts.