Dear DWM,


My heart is so broken; I don’t know where to start.


I love this man, the father of my child, the man who has had my heart for the last decade since we started chatting randomly at a college gym in our early 20’s.


He is amazing in so many ways: full of compassion for animals and the underdogs (in fact, he’s an under-dog and stray animal magnet), plays the piano like a virtuoso, has super human will power over his body (rowed for Ivy League in college at near Olympic level), incredibly smart, can learn anything as complex as neurosurgery from YouTube, dedicated father and partner, moved for us more than 10 times in the last decade, take care of all logistic and mechanical stuff in our family life.


The list goes on.


But as much as I love him singularly in ways different yet same from loving my child, he loves some else. What hurts the most is that this someone is soulless and trashy; she’s full of trash, someone else’s trash.




He loves dumpsters.

dumpster girldump

Since his Ivy League years, where he prides himself in finding a 1.5k brand new camera among other trophies in the dormitory dumpster, he has had this never ending, ever escalating affair with dumpster(s).


While I think he is my true love, the very first and last partner of my life; he has never place me or our kid above his love affair.


Our house is laden with trash from strangers. Our garage is packed full with someone else’s trashed belongings. Just when the living room floor cleared from moving stuff to a new storage we now pay $92/month, after an incredible day of my eyes feasting on the precious space… the void… the lack of suffocating clutter, 4 more cardboard boxes showed up.


Seeing my sullen face from working a 4th of 7 20-hour day, when I muttered “are you kidding me?” He said right away, “Anything we don’t use from these boxes, we send to goodwill. There is some good stuff in there, trust me.”


The hurt is becoming revolting; I want to vomit. I hold back the vomit of the meanest, bitchiest words about of torrent out of my mouth. I bit my tongue for the day when a house meeting my needs comes on the market.


I finally said to him calmly, “I love you, but we have irreconcilable differences. I would be content living in a 500 sf apartment with you, with the littlest belongings. Because wherever you and I and our kid are is home. But you want to be surrounded by stuff, lifeless, soulless trash from a stranger. You labor over them (moving, sorting, storing, and walking around them) and can’t be bothered with spending time with your ‘loved’ ones.’ This is not how I want to live.”


He responded by, “I totally understand how you feel. You have every right to feel this way. I will…. [Promises of actions spoken of but never taken in the past.]” We’ve been here before. We still have stuff from your first dumpster dive since our relationship started 10 years ago, after 10 moves, most people would have shed the trash from dumpster that they didn’t use for 10 years. One would think.


I can only take so many disappointments. Call me idealistic, I believe lovers should make each other better people. A partner should not drive the other into deep despair, shame, sense of powerlessness, and visceral feeling of wanting to vomit up foul, bitchy, curse words to express his/her feelings.


I’m tired of feeling like I’m less than his love affair, a soulless, loveless, trashy dumpster.


Just needed someone to listen, thank you DWM.



Sincerely yours,



Now exercise for you, substitute dumpster for another noun.

Does your lover or yourself love another “noun” more than the people we should love, cherish, and embrace in our lives?

What are your plans to change things so that we love and receive the love we deserve?

If you like this article, you might enjoy other DWM articles on Personal Finance, Investing, Retirement, Practice Management, & Lifestyle.

All articles by DWM are for informational purposes only and not intended as a substitute for professional advice. Please consult a professional accountant, financial adviser or lawyer, before making financial decisions.

Dear DWM, my Lover Loves a Soulless Trashy Someone Else
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