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It’s almost been five months since I quit smoking and honestly I don’t miss it. I no longer crave it, I rarely think about it and I know for certain that I will never smoke again.

Yes, yes I know. Three cheers for me! Well done. I should be proud.

Whatever, I don’t even care.

Cigarettes were my best friend for fifteen years and easily I forgot all about them.

So, why the hell can’t I forget about Donut?

Pathetic.

There is not much that I can work on regarding my book this week. Editing, airbrushing, templates all outsourced. This leaves me ample time to think of my Puffin. Thinking is dangerous.

Although my ex husband, Beans may very well be the dumbest man on the planet he has actually given me some good advice regarding Donut.

“Why are you wasting your time thinking about him when you know damn well he isn’t thinking about you.” Well said, Bean-o.

The last time Donut gave me flowers will be eight years ago this Valentines day.

It was valentines day, three years ago that Beans had arranged for his mother to babysit and planned dinner out for us to celebrate. After work that evening Beans dropped the kids off while I got ready. I put on a tight red dress that hugged all my fat rolls just perfectly. You don’t believe me? Check this shit out!

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I was A FAT ASS. You can all thank Laverne for this lovely photo. Here I thought only my ex mother in law was in possession of such horrific obeseity evidence.

I was a mound of blubber.

Ha ha ha! I know, what you are thinking, “THIS is probably the REAL reason that Beans wouldn’t sleep with you!”

You are probably right! LOL! I look like the Stay Puff Marshmallow man.

AHAHAHAHAHA! Enough making fun of myself, back to the story.

Beans took me to my favorite steak house. I gorged down half the farm and a bottle of red wine and then he presented me a gift.

It was a silver necklace with a little heart shaped charm set in diamonds and sapphires. They had to be the smallest stones I had ever seen, but I didn’t care. We were poor, it was beautiful and I loved it. Beans is still the only man who has ever bought me jewelry ( I REALLY want a pair of diamond stud earings, HINT).

After dinner we headed out to the casino and quickly threw our money away in the machine. OK, I threw our money away. Beans wasn’t a big gambler he would just sit and watch me play. I was fine with this, as long as he sat at least three feet away as so he didn’t blow his pungent breath right in my face.

EWWW.

We both consumed our usual deadly amount of alcohol. After I ran out of money Beans dragged me back home. Once back at home I poured myself more wine and Beans poured himself a few more shots.

“I love you so much, *****. I love you more than my mother.”

“You shouldn’t say that, Beans. I’m gonna tell her!” I joked.

“I’m serous, I love you more than our daughter, if I had to choose I would always pick you.”

“Now you are pissing me off. That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“Why are you so cold? At least I can love you. You don’t love anything. I wish you cold love me like I love you.”

“I do love you, kinda.”

“That’s what I mean. I will never love anyone like I love you!” With that Beans ripped open the back door, “I need cigarette.”

I wasn’t far behind. I sat on the chair next to him, the legs slightly bent attempting to hold my massive frame, “Come on Beans, let’s not ruin such a nice night over this.”

“Do you love me more than the kids? Say you love me more than the kids.”

“No! The kids will always come first, I told you that.”

Beans did not like this. He flicked his cigarette on the ground and stormed inside.

I finished my cigarette and headed in for some more wine. Also, probably some Cheetos.

Beans came stomping down the stairs and passed by me with his hands full of clothes. He threw them on a chair.

“I’m going to my moms. I’m not staying here with you, this is bullshit. I knew I never should have married you. You forced me into it.”

“Just stop! We were having such a good night. Come on, the kids are gone. Let’s have sex,” I suggested.

I grabbed Beans’ by his bicep. He whipped his arm, flinging me off of him.

“Seriously, Beans calm down,” I begged.

“No. You didn’t ever fucking love me. Unreal, Un-fucking real.”

I grabbed him again, this time he shoved me to the ground with all his might. My mega-body hit the tile with blunt force. Probably, I caused a mini earthquake.

Beans grabbed his clothes and exited the front door. I laid there stunned for several minutes, I was starting to sober up. Once the shock had lifted I attempted to pull myself up, that’s when I felt it.

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My hand. I looked down, it was already swelling and blackening. Slowly, I pulled myself to my feet. I was examining my injury when I heard the front door open. Beans hadn’t left yet. He stormed upstairs and came back down with more of his clothes. I could hear him mumbling.

“Stupid fucking bitch. I married an evil bitch. I married Satan. I should have left her a long time ago. I’m through of dealing with her shit.”

“Fuck you, Beans! You are a retard. Only, stupid retards think it’s OK to push girls. You are a loser and a coward!”

Beans came charging in my direction, the look in his eyes was terrifying. With all his might he used both hands to shove me. I hit the ground, hard. My head clunked against the tile.

I wasn’t smack talking then.

Beans left.

I woke up several hours later still on the floor. I crawled upstairs and into bed. Then, I sent my little brother a text.

“If anything ever happens to me, tell the police Beans did it.”

The next morning Beans and the kids were still at his mothers house. I had to work, my hand sore and bruised and my wrist had swelled up almost double it’s normal size. I went in anyway, thankful that I was teaching at the cosmetology school and not taking clients all day in the salon.

I lied to my class and told them had tripped over my sons toy. It healed up after a week or two, luckily it wasn’t broken.

If you ask Beans he will tell you I am a liar and this never happened. This was definitely not the worst thing he ever did, but I will save that for another story.

22 thoughts on “Blubber Bashing Beans

  1. Even I know better than to ask the wife if she love me more than the kids. Hint: No mother will love anyone more than their kids. It’s called “nature”

  2. Great story! What an ass, glad you left him. Don’t you just love it when they “push” you, you get hurt and then they say you are delusional, you just fell. Abusive men suck! Oh you didn’t say that did you, guess that was my story haha! 😆

  3. Actually. It was a horrible night from the get-go. you were never asked to say you who you loved more, and Beans left because you wanted to go out some more and Beans would not give you your car keys because you were really drunk by this time. You responded by giving Beans 2 Black eyes and choking him before he pushed you away from him, that is when he left.
    That is when he realized you are just an angry drunk. Come to find out later in life one night when you came to vegas for a wedding and ended up getting drunk and trying to beat up one of your other friends. who ended up leaving you in vegas with no money.

    2 WORDS: ANGER MANAGEMENT!
    2 MORE: STOP DRINKING!

    • This blog is fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental. This blog is not a memoir; it is a highly exaggerated piece of filth. All characters in all videos are actors; All minor actors are participating within the custodial parties consent.

      I am touched my writing has affected you so deeply. Thanks for the feed back.

  4. Pingback: Dumb Beans, Mmmmmmm……(Video) | It's not my fault.

  5. I asked you very nicely to not include any video or picture of my daughter in your blog. Which according to the family court is considered inappropriate. Also border lines on abuse with the use of a child. Anything to hurt me, your anger is literally pushing everyone out of your life. You are destined to find out the hard way.

    • This blog is fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or people, living or dead is entirely coincidental. This blog is not a memoir; it is a highly exaggerated piece of filth. All characters in all videos are actors; All minor actors are participating within the custodial parties consent.

      I am touched my writing has affected you so deeply. Thanks for the feed back.

  6. Pingback: Pawn Whore (video) | It's not my fault.

  7. It’s been my experience when speaking of these matters people don’t want to hear the truth. They’re wanting answers that snap fit nicely into their story complete with signs from Jehovah… They beg to be told what they want to hear including promise of a front row seat at the rapture. Fuck, everyone knows a backrow seat is no good. Guys like Beans know about guys like the Donut, hole and all.

  8. Pingback: Senile Denial | It's not my fault.

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