After an affair, your life doesn't belong to you anymore. For over a year, I couldn't control my own thoughts.
The turmoil in my head was viciously repetitive but savagely random. With this blog, I began to exorcise the demons holding my head hostage.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

A Visit to Casa Jaymie

Packed my bag for our over night date and loaded it in the car.  The plan was to meet Richard at La Costa around noon.  Our couples massage was scheduled for 2:00.  Armed with my directions from MapQuest, I began the drive south to Casa Jaymie around 9:00.  I was supposed to be there at 9:00.  Tough.  Let her wait.  She had texted that her dad would be there to meet with me.  I was hoping she would also attend this little meet and greet, but, alas...that potential endorphin rush was not meant to be.

I was only in the car a few minutes when my mobile phone rang.  My BFF, Julie, was calling to check up on my mental state.  I gave her a quickie update and filled her in on my mission of the morning.  Let's just say...She was not a fan of the plan.
"What??  Why??  What good will this do?"
"No way I'm letting HER benefit from anything regarding Richard.  Besides, you know how I enjoy making her twist in the wind."
'You're on your way now?  Right now?"
"Yep.  On the 67 as we speak."
"Swing by and get me.  You can not go over there alone."  Julie was willing to leave work to save me from myself.  I took her up on the offer.

The directions were less than crystal clear.  We took a wrong turn or two.  Had to call Jaymie for navigation assistance.  Her dad answered.  He spoke to me as if we had been invited over for tea and biscuits, so calm and polite.  He gave us the clarification we needed and we quickly arrived in front of their house on Coronado Avenue.

Jaymie's home looked a lot like I thought it would, cluttered front yard, drab color, cheap shingle roof and car in the driveway that would need a paint job before anyone would take it as a trade in.  I strained my memory for a mental image of Jaymie's car.  I only saw it for a brief moment previously, but if memory served, her car was no where in sight.  We parked and walked to the front door, knocked and waited.

A balding, middle aged man with a girth too wide for his short stature, opened the door.  I recognized him immediately from the Eagle's concert, James, Jim, HER daddy.  For a brief second, I felt sorry for the guy.  He was gonna clean up his daughter's mess.  She had shamed herself and her family.  Maybe it would have shown greater parenting skills to make her face the consequences of her actions.  But, who am I to question that.  He has sent her away, or she chose to run and hide.  Don't know how the choice was made, but she was no where to be seen.
I made proper introductions and James invited us in.

One of the ways James had hoped to improve his lot in life was on the shirt tails of my husband, but Jaymie beat him to Richard's shirt tails and his pants, too, so that gravy train was lost to him.  Along with, I would assume, much of the pride he had in Jaymie, if he ever had any at all to begin with.

We entered into a tight area, also cluttered.  On the floor, to my left, against the wall, was the massage table, along with other items that I couldn't quite see.  He lead us to the left, into the kitchen and we sat in three aluminum and vinyl chairs that were a rare throw back to the 70's.  The table was shoved tightly up against the left wall and even though the room was very poorly lit, the curtains were drawn shut.  Perhaps James didn't want nosey neighbors to ponder the reason for an early morning visit to his home from two women that obviously did not live anywhere near this neighborhood.

He began the conversation with an apology.  I know we sat there for at least 30 minutes, but I only remember a little of what we discussed.  I can tell you, I never cried, not once. The whole thing was freakishly reasonable (which I realize is kind of an oxymoron) until I brought up the cash.  James, then, began to squirm.  I felt just like a predator with one large paw on her prey.  The next bite would be lethal.

"Half of the money Richard loaned Jaymie, by law, is mine.  If I have to sue her for it, I will."
"Jaymie said he gave her money.  It was never a loan."
I was getting very sick of that weak defense.  I became more insistent, one might say aggressive, in my demands.  He thought I was bluffing about going to court and airing my husband's dirty laundry.  Julie assured him, I would enjoy nothing more.  We went around and around about the amount Jaymie owed me and when I would get it.  He felt I wasn't holding the right person responsible.  He referred to Richard in terms of a bully that coerced his baby girl.  PLEEEZE!  Nobody was gonna call Jaymie sweet & innocent anytime soon, however, I firmly explained to him that Richard would be held MORE than accountable.  His life would be riddled with punishment.

He wasn't gonna budge before talking to Jaymie, but I was relentless. Knowing how I tend to pursue my goals like a pit bull with a bone, Julie stepped in.  She said, "This isn't going anywhere right now.  I think it's time we leave."

James did get smart right there at the end.  "If Jaymie does give you this money, will you agree to never contact her or any member of this family again?"
Without hesitation, "Of course.  I just want the money back."
Oh....bad form.
That wasn't an accurate statement.  I already knew that I wanted all the other emails.  There were so many she hadn't sent yet.  Why was I giving up my bid for those?  I was also risking answers to the endless questions that would haunt me in the months to come.  I couldn't possibly imagine how they would haunt me that morning, in that humble home, but I would come to need Jaymie to quiet my mind. (At least, I THOUGHT I needed her.)
Once again, I acted much too quickly.  I signed that agreement, hand written on a tinsel thin paper napkin.

I signed it and he made me a copy on a FAX in his office, which was probably a tiny corner of his bedroom.  As he returned to hand it to me, we got up and took the two or three steps back toward the front door and the pile of bootie I came to retrieve.  I was getting more than I bargained for.  The massage table and bracelet were there along with a bottle of Dolce & Gabbana Rose the One perfume, (Of course it was ROSE.  I despise rose perfume.  It reminds me of funerals) a decanter of room fragrance reeds and a little something to make me swallow hard.  Richard had given her his high school senior, black and white pic.  You know, the little yearbook images you could trade with fellow students? The tiny photo of him at 18, with the date written on the back by his dead mother.   My heart twisted as I looked at her crooked cursive, hoping she couldn't see this painful moment from heaven.

Julie helped me load it all in the back of my Volvo.  I thanked Jim for his time and told him to contact me about when I could expect the money.  As Julie and I drove away, I thanked her for coming with me and keeping me in line.  I also told her to take the massage table for herself.  Sell it on eBay.
"Get as much as you can and keep it all.  I don't want anything she touched.  Maybe not even Richard."

Thursday, July 26, 2012

She Ain't Keepin' the Cash Either!

(Before I start this post, I just have to say, WHOO HOO!  I figured out how to post pictures!  Go me!  I might just figure this blogging thing out eventually.)

It didn't surprise me at all that Richard had given her money.  I'll bet he handed out Benjamins like lollipops to his broke, young whore.  Richard's ability to help Jaymie financially was surely alluring.  First, he got her a job.  After she managed to lose that, he held tight to that rope of attraction by keeping gas in her tank, bling on her wrist and hot undies on her ass.  He said it was less than a grand, but my guess is, Jaymie got an allowance.  Richard had said he felt like he needed to take care of her.  She was his mistress and that made her his responsibility.
Half of that bootie call cash was mine and I aimed to get it back.

Another call and another voice mail left for Jaymie.  Told her I knew about all the money Richard had given her and that he had referred to the money as a loan.  The loan was now past due.

I actually got a rapid text response.  "I'm in class now.  I'll call you when I'm through.  The money was NOT a loan.  He gave it to me."
Oh, fun, fun!!  Struck a nerve!!  I figured giving back the swag would be humiliating, but not a set back in her bank account.  Repaying cold, hard, ill-gotten cash was gonna cramp her low-life style a bit.  No way that unemployment check was anywhere near $1000.  I could hardly contain myself waiting on her call.

"Jaymie, thanks for getting back to me.  I'll be coming tomorrow morning to pick up the massage table and the bracelet.  I'd like to get at least half of the money, too."
"There is no money."
"Of course there is.  Richard told me he loaned you money many times.  He said it was at least a $1000.  Surely, you must have some of that left."
"He never loaned me money.  He gave it to me."
I'll admit, Richard never did call the money a loan.  He had said he helped her out from time to time.  Loan was my loose interpretation of the monetary transactions.

"You're saying he just GAVE you money?  Really?  What does that make you?  A prostitute? A cheap whore?  Never mind.  Rhetorical question.  I know it was a loan and half of that money you took, for services rendered, is mine.  I'm giving you a huge break.  I'm only asking for half of the money and I'm going to get it back, even if I have to sue you for it."
"You're going to have to talk to my Dad."
I knew she was backed into a corner if she was going to her good Christian Daddy about this.  She sounded like she was about to have a sob fest.  Her voice was timid and shaky.  I don't know if it was because I intimidated her or the thought of Richard throwing her under the bus truly caused her pain.  Either way, if she was suffering, I was jubilant.
Her last words, "There is no money.  It wasn't a loan.  All the stuff he gave me will be in my driveway tomorrow morning."

That was that.  She was done with me.  I'm fairly sure I never spoke to her again, not that I didn't try, over and over and over for a year.  That's when, out of desperation and immense frustration, I started this blog and found the Healing Heart.
Both of which saved my life...or at the very least, my marriage.

I was looking forward to seeing her house.  I wondered if Richard had ever seen it.  I had the address from the online search I did of her right after DDay.  I knew it was in a lower middle class neighborhood of Spring Valley.
I texted her that I would be at her house by 9:00am tomorrow morning.  Tomorrow was also the day Richard and I were going to La Costa for our over night date.
Something told me that my mood wasn't gonna be as festive or romantic as Richard was hoping.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Jaymie Would NOT be Keeping the Swag!

As I was saying....I impulsively called Shannon, wife of banished best friend Marc, on my way to work. Our conversation began as I assumed it would:
"Hey, Shannon.  I just had to call and let you know that I'm really gonna miss spending time with you, but there is no way I'm letting Marc back into my life."
"Oh, Shawn!  I am so sorry!  I do not know what Marc was thinking!"
"He was protecting Richard.  He thought he was helping him, I guess."

I shouldn't have assumed this would be an easy phone call.  You know what they say about ASSUMING....
 "I told Marc he really screwed up!  I wish he'd told me.  I'd have called you.  I didn't know about the affair until after you found out, but I knew something was weird when Marc told me Richard bought some girl in his office a massage table a few months ago."

And...there it is.  Another shoe dropped.  An additional kick in the gut.
I felt my face flush hot red.

It took me a few seconds to regain my composure.  I was seething.
"When was this?"
"I think it was during the summer, before you and Rich went to Vegas for your birthday."
"Thanks, Shannon.  Take care of yourself.  I gotta go."

Hung up.  Called Richard.
"Wanna tell me about the massage table?"
"What?!" Since DDay I had asked for the WHOLE story, every detail, regardless of how minuscule.  He had a multitude of chances to tell me about the massage table.  I had asked a million questions about how the affair started!  That was one of the ways he reeled her in.  He was her guardian, her protector, her savior and Sugar Daddy.

Can't you just see his face?  Sitting there at his desk, trying to focus on some other poor sap's pending divorce, picking up the phone, hoping for Love Lorn Lucy and hearing Royal Bitch.  Not a propitious beginning to a productive day.

"Tell me about the massage table.  When did you buy it for her"?  The word "HER" always slid out of my mouth like bile.
"After she got fired from Sharon's office.  She wanted to become a massage therapist.  I offered to help her get started.  It was only $100.00"  Only $100??  Who cares?  Why is that relevant?  I guess I should feel better that my cheater spouse was thrifty!

Richard had gone out of his way (way, way out...around the block, across state lines and over seas about sums it up.) to help get Jaymie a job in his office working for Sharon, another attorney that leased office space from him.  So, Jaymie was in his law office everyday, but her paycheck came from Sharon, not Richard.  Gotta give him credit for covering his ass in that regard.  After about 4 months, Sharon let Jaymie go.  Bet you thought I was just being bitter and spiteful when I told you Jaymie wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.  I think Sharon only kept her around for as long as she did because she knew she was doing Richard a favor.  I learned later that the best thing Jaymie did while she was there was reorganize Sharon's client files with two shades of Pink!
The IQ of a cotton ball.
It was after Jaymie got canned that Richard's obsession with her took on an air of urgency.  Since he wasn't getting his daily dose of his fantasy fuck (Sorry.  My language has been awful.) he had to find other ways to spend time with her.  So began the months of lunches, trips to doggie beach and hours spent at a coffee house called Krakatoa.  All of this time lead up to when he FINALLY got her to take her clothes off on September 7, 2010.

"What else?  What else did you buy her?"
"A bracelet.  At the charity auction.  I bought her a diamond bracelet.  It was a tiny thing, diamonds and emeralds."
Now he's hitting me where I live!  JEWELRY??
I think I blogged about the night he stayed with Jaymie at the Sheraton after a charity event.  This was something we had attended together for years.  This particular year, I had just returned from a work trip.  I was fried.  I did not want to go.  I asked Richard if he would mind going alone.  I expected a fight.  He would never want to go to something like that without me.  This time...he was very compassionate about how tired I must be and he would share my apologies with our group of friends that would be there.  Mean while...he's getting a room to stash Jaymie in until the event is over.  Then, he calls me, says he drank way too much and thinks he shouldn't drive.  Why would I question that?  Better safe than sorry, right?
I hate remembering how stupid I was.

Right before I hung up on him, "When you get home, I want to hear it all!  I'm sick of new info trickling in!  I've had it!"  Then, I called Jaymie.  Of course she didn't answer, but I know she got my voicemail which said, in no uncertain terms, "I know about the massage table and the bracelet.  I want them back.  You will return them. Half of the money used to bribe you with all that swag is mine."  Through out the day, I left her a few more messages that were equally as adamant, adding that if she didn't get back to me ASAP, I'd just call her daddy and work out the details.

After I got home, I received a text from Jaymie.  She said I could have the items.  We texted back and forth about when the exchange would take place.  I told her I'd be there in the morning.
Richard was aware of my intentions.  Our conversation that night was heated.  My temper was as volatile as a solar flare.  I learned he also had taken her on a shopping trip to Fashion Valley Mall.  He bought her lingerie at Victoria's Secret and perfume at Nordstrom.  Seriously...Nordstrom??  My Mecca??  The torment never ends!

"Did you give her any money?"
"Some.  Once in a while.  She was out of work.  I was just trying to help her out."
My husband, the philanthropist.
"How much?"
"I don't know.  A few hundred."
"How fucking MUCH?"
"Not more than a thousand."

 I was soooo done with him for the night.  I wanted Jaymie's attention.  Texted her about the money.  Told her I wanted that back, too.  I knew that wasn't gonna be as easy.  That money was long gone.  I wondered how pathetic, little, unemployed Jaymie would come up with a grand?  Then, my revenge antenna stood straight up.
I could always ask her Daddy for it.

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Rationalization, Justification or Plain Old Excuses?

One minute I was floating along, day dreaming about my upcoming night away with Richard at a beautiful resort complete with a couples massage and romantic, candle lit dinner and then in the next sixty seconds I could focus on nothing else but my visceral hatred of Jaymie and my sloppy attempts at revenge.  All these well pondered notions and emotions were interspersed with trying to have a real life.  Here and there I allowed myself a few stolen moments to grieve, no animosity, just bewilderment blended with sorrow.

Not long after I shattered any delusion Jaymie's dad still had about his baby girl's virginity, I was on my way to my real life job.  Acting on impulse (I know, so unlike me!) I called Shannon, wife to Richard's banished best friend, Marc.  We were never close, but I always took pleasure in her company when we had socialized at dinners, weddings of mutual friends or fun days 'Where the Turf Meets the Surf'. (If you live anywhere near Southern CA, you know about the Turf.)

My rationalization for the call was to let her know how sorry I was that we wouldn't be enjoying each others company EVER again.  From the get-go, I vowed that Marc would be banished forever.  Although I know Richard retains hope that someday my heart will soften toward Marc and I will consent to making him a part of our lives once again,  I can state here and now, without reservation...No F***ing way it'll ever happen.

Where was I?  Oh..yes... My rationalization for the call to Shannon.

Please excuse me.  I'm about to digress yet again.  For me, during my time in Crazy Town, a rationalization was also a justification.  If I had been in my real life mind, I would have known many of the vengeful things I did impulsively and actually a few things I thought through, will never be considered a by the book true definition of rational, but I believed they were justifiable.  If I had been judged by another, the verdict would probably have been "Guilty.  Crazy as a loon. Behavior unjustified".

I have thrice rewritten this post.  My intent had been to tell the tale of how Shannon clued me in to the next lie told by my supposedly remorseful wayward spouse and how I reacted to that lie.  Once again, Royal Bitch rose to the occasion.  As I began to record the details, I felt embarrassed and I can't believe I'm typing this...remorseful!

I bring up this point because we surely do judge the betrayers when they reveal their justifications for cheating, don't we?  Such a plethora of flying justifications flew from Richard's mouth after DDay I feared I could be beheaded by one!  Why now, when I have the benefit of 20/20 hind sight can I rationalize MY justifications but I never offered Richard the same courtesy?  Could it be the degree of the offense committed?  How far can we, as betrayed spouses go, before we, too, shall be judged?   It's a slippery slope, a legitimized way to excuse bad behavior.  Double standards can not be utilized when trying to rebuild a broken marriage.
Is this becoming way too convoluted?  Does it make any sense at all?

I don't think I'm reaching to assume that Jaymie thought telling her dad was way up there on the offensive scale, but I had good reasons, rationalizations and my justification for engaging her further way I could hurt her the way she hurt me.  There was nothing I could do to her that was as life altering as what she had wrought.  Who would possibly condemn me?  Not any rational soul!
Pity me?  Sure.  Cringe a little?  You bet, but anyone would excuse my vindictive actions!  She deserved all I could dish out and then some!
But, when is enough ENOUGH?  Why didn't I see that dragging her sorry ass back into our lives time and time again was futile?  It served no purpose but to quench my thirst for revenge.

Writing this post has opened my eyes quite a bit.  I have twisted many events in my mind to suit my purpose, as did Richard when he justified his affair with Jaymie.  You may not believe me yet, (or maybe you do. As I write, I rationalize that you're giving me the benefit of the doubt.) but I went over the line of rational behavior MANY times venting my fury, eventually (spoiler alert!) leading to Jaymie filing a restraining order against me.

There is no damn difference between reasons, rationalizations, justifications or plain old lame excuses.  If I expect Richard to own his life blunders, I must also be willing to readily bear the weight of mine.

So sorry for aborting the story line.  This post has gone awry.
I will add this.  The lie I learned through Shannon involved gifts from my husband, surely given in gratification for services rendered, of sufficient amount to JUSTIFY my referring to Jaymie as a low life, white trash, two bit hooker.

Guess I can't get through one post without a solid justification.  And so it goes....

Friday, July 13, 2012

What Would I have Done without You?

14 months after DDay, in December 2011, I began to use eBlogger to seek solace from my daily agony.  Despite my lack of computer tech skills and writing prowess, I began typing about Richard and Jaymie, telling the vile story while laboring to heal myself.  Within days of starting to write and staring at my iMac screen, I learned to reach out for empathy and understanding of my suffering.  I desperately tried to grasp a life line tossed to me from other generous, compassionate betrayed spouses.  The fact that it took me over a year to consider Googling Infidelity highlights my limited cyberspace experience.  The thought just never occurred to me.  To be fair, my thoughts were otherwise occupied.

Maybe I needed a year of rampage and ruin.  There was so much poison in my veins that I required a full year to drain the venom.  I wasn't ready to hear from rational people that have walked the recovery road to happy.  Until that day in December, I would not have heard their inspirational words.

The blogging world is saturated with stories of infidelity, extensive poetic prose documenting the most personal kind of pain.  I started writing A Year After the Affair before I had read a single web page.  I was desperate for relief from the gut twisting misery.  It felt like a feeble idea at best, but what did I have to lose?  Oh, yea...that's marriage.

My heart had been mutilated.  I was out of tools in my mental first aide kit.  This blog was my remote hope of salvation.  The first few posts felt like emotional cutting.  Why would I want to relive every excruciating detail?
Here's why...I was deadlocked in despair.  I couldn't depend on anyone else any longer.   Not the lovely Dr. K, not Dr. N with his bag of synthetic pain blockers and certainly not, Jose Cuervo or Jack Daniels.  I was sick and tired of being sick and tired, not to mention more angry by the day.  Eventually I was gonna run out of places to deposit all that vehemence and then, I feared it would eat away my insides like acid.

Until I started this blog, my big computer achievement was figuring out how to download pics to Facebook.  I had no clue cyberspace offered the best support group on the planet?  I could have spend thousands on counseling, read every book on adultery ever published and it wouldn't have served me any better.  In you, online, I began to heal.  I think you guys need billboards erected singing your praises.

So...the purpose of this post is to say "THANK YOU".  If you're reading this, Yes!  I mean you!  The first couple of months, my blog was nothing but the dissection of my life since DDay.  Then, in February of 2011, something amazing happened, almost miraculous, really.  The clouds parted and a little ray of sunshine peeked through.  The ray of light had a name, HOPE.  The ray of hope wasn't sent to me from God, but He must have planted the blogging seed in my disheartened head and blogging showed me the path to YOU.  YOU brought me into the light of redemption!  Saved me from my pathetic self pity party!  Can I get an AMEN?? Hallelujah!!
Dang it.  I just can't finish a post without goofing a bit.  Sorry.  This is a sincere post of gratitude.  I should finish it as such.

The words grateful, appreciation and thankfulness will have to suffice  It's all have.  It's quite a family we have here.  Family is forever.  You all saved my ass.  That ray of light gets a bit brighter everyday and I know without you I'd still be wallowing in darkness.  Thanks for cranking up the voltage! I don't wanna know where I'd be if I hadn't found you!  I shudder to think!
Love you all!

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Rethinking Rookie Mistakes

Having a come to Jesus talk with Jaymie's dad had not been nearly as much fun as I had imagined, at least during the entire 2.3 minutes I spent actually thinking ahead and imagining it at all.   I really screwed myself.  How would I ever get Jaymie to send me the rest of the emails?  No way she'll talk to me again.  I still had so many questions!  So many, that if I had written them all down, it would have read like War & Peace.  (mostly the War part)  Why would she help me now?  I stuck it to her but good!  Told dear old Dad!  I felt confident that he'd be telling Mom about their baby girl/whore bag's secret sex life any minute, too!  I showed all my cards, threw 'em all out on the table, went all in and I did not have an ace up my sleeve.  Another Rookie mistake that might help some of you.  If you have any leverage....don't use it too soon!

Told Richard about the conversation with James, Jaymie's dad.  (James, Jaymie...cute, right?  Or did you throw up a little in your mouth?)  Can you guess Richard's reaction?  Yep...that's right, Friends!  Mortified, Horrified and Petrified! Abso-fucking-lutely a guilt ridden, pathetic, regretful nub of a man.
He wanted to crawl in a hole and hide out until this wicked storm from hell, of his own creation, blew over.  If he had gone underground, he would have been in his hidey-hole for an extended period.  My vengeful behavior didn't subside for months.

With his last ounce of dignity, Richard managed to email James and apologize.  He also thanked him for treating me with so much compassion.  There's a cavernous gap between how Richard reacts to stressful situations and how I deal with such issues.  He is calm (generally) and soft spoken, practically oozing decorum.  I just let it rip.  Call it as I see it.  If the situation demands it, raise my voice and let the profanity fly.  Appearances be damned.  I'm not out to impress anybody.  I just wanna get my way.

James responded to Richard with the patience and forgiveness of a Saint!  He was so sorry to hear about what had transpired.  He would be talking with Jaymie that night.  He was very disappointed in Richard as he had enjoyed meeting him and had hoped they could work together in a few upcoming investment opportunities.  Oh, Holy Night!  Are you kidding me?  This was Christian forgiveness on a whole new level...almost Divine intervention, if you will.

Epic fail.  I had drawn no blood from my enemies, yet I continued to hemorrhage profusely.  Richard was embarrassed, sure.  Big Whoop.  Jaymie would probably get a stern lecture, but I wouldn't get to witness it.  No retribution.  Extremely unsatisfying in my quest for payback.  Worse yet, my information seeking just became mission next-to impossible.  Time to regroup.

The fact that Richard didn't choose to give up on us after I outted him to Jaymie's dad was not lost on me.  His reaction earned him some substantial points to be redeemed at a later date.  I knew how much he hated dragging anyone else through our personal pig-pen mud bath, which is precisely why I so thoroughly enjoyed tossing the stinky sod around.  He should have been furious, but he didn't even ask me why.  He only asked how I was, had it been hard on me and he was so very sorry for all the pain he had caused to everyone.  Then, he suggested a night away, just the two of us.  Sometime alone to reconnect.

We had been going on date nights.  Cocktails, lovely dinners and a bit of PDA. Why not step it up a notch?  A couples massage, cocktails, the lovely dinner, some PDA, gazing deeply into each others eyes, whispered words of amour, lots of uninterrupted hysterical bonding, plus breakfast in bed!

Sure.  I could get on board with that plan.  Might as well.  I didn't have anymore ammo to toss toward Jaymie...not right then, anyway.