Florida Man: “I’m Addicted To Bigfoot and My Wife Left Me—This Is What Drove Her Over the Edge!”
A Florida man’s unrelenting passion for the elusive Sasquatch pushed his marriage to a breaking point, but the final straw might surprise you. 🌐 #News #OrlandoFL #Florida #WeirdNews
ORLANDO, FL — In the humid backwoods of Florida, where alligators and mosquitoes reign supreme, Jerry Tuttle found an unlikely obsession: Bigfoot. It started innocently enough—a late-night documentary on the History Channel, a grainy video of a shadowy figure lumbering through the Pacific Northwest. But for Jerry, a 42-year-old mechanic originally from Ocala, that flicker of curiosity ignited a full-blown fixation.
He wasn’t chasing the creature in the Everglades (at least not at first). Instead, he began filling their modest double-wide trailer on the outskirts of Orlando with Bigfoot lore: books stacked on the coffee table, plaster casts of alleged footprints crowding the kitchen counter, and a life-sized cardboard cutout of Sasquatch looming in the living room.
His wife, Linda, tolerated it at the outset. She’d roll her eyes when Jerry rambled about eyewitness accounts or spent hours sketching hypothetical migration routes from Appalachia to the Sunshine State. “It’s just a phase,” she’d tell her friends at the diner where she waitressed. But as Jerry’s obsession grew, so did the distance between them.
From Hobby to Household Takeover
What began as a quirky pastime soon consumed Jerry’s life—and their home. He joined online forums, spending late nights debating Bigfoot’s diet (omnivore or carnivore?) and analyzing blurry trail cam photos. He invested their meager savings in gear: night-vision goggles, motion sensors, and a high-pitched “Squatch call” speaker he swore mimicked the creature’s howls. Linda’s pleas for a new washing machine went ignored as Jerry prioritized a $300 thermal camera to “catch the big guy’s heat signature.”
The trailer became a shrine to the cryptid. Linda couldn’t open a cabinet without Bigfoot mugs or beef jerky—“Squatch snacks,” Jerry called them—tumbling out. He even converted their guest room into a “research lab,” complete with maps pinned to the walls and a corkboard of string-connected sightings. Date nights turned into stakeouts at local swamps, where Jerry would whisper about “prime Bigfoot territory” while Linda swatted mosquitoes and dreamed of the quiet evenings they’d once shared.
The Breaking Point
Linda’s patience frayed, but she held on, hoping Jerry would tire of the hunt. That hope shattered one muggy July night in 2024. Jerry had been hyping a “Bigfoot expedition” for weeks, having convinced himself that a spate of missing chickens in Marion County was evidence of Sasquatch activity. He’d spent days preparing, rigging their backyard with cameras and baiting it with raw hamburger meat. Linda, exhausted from a double shift, begged him to skip it. “I need you here, Jerry,” she said. “Not out chasing ghosts.”
Jerry didn’t listen. At 2 a.m., he woke Linda with an ecstatic shout: “I got him! I got him on tape!” Bleary-eyed, she stumbled outside to find Jerry replaying footage of a dark shape lumbering past their shed. To Linda, it looked like a bear—or maybe their neighbor’s Great Dane—but Jerry was adamant it was Bigfoot. He spent the next hour calling friends, uploading the clip to X, and planning a press conference with the local paper. Linda watched from the porch, barefoot and silent, as her husband celebrated his “proof” alone.
The next morning, she packed a suitcase. “I can’t compete with a monster that doesn’t exist,” she told him, her voice steady but hollow. Jerry barely looked up from his laptop, muttering about frame-by-frame analysis. Linda walked out, leaving behind a marriage drowned in Bigfoot’s shadow.
Life After Linda
Jerry’s viral video earned him 15 minutes of online fame—but it couldn’t fill the void Linda left. Friends say he’s doubled down, leading weekend “Squatch hunts” with fellow enthusiasts and selling Bigfoot-themed T-shirts to fund his quests. The trailer, once a home, is now a cluttered museum of his obsession, with Linda’s absence marked only by an empty recliner.
Reflecting on it, Jerry admits the cost was steep. “I thought she’d come around,” he told a buddy over beers at the VFW. “But I guess Bigfoot’s a tough third wheel.” For Linda, now living with her sister in Tampa, the divorce papers are pending, and she’s reclaiming her peace—one Bigfoot-free day at a time.
As for that fateful footage? Experts dismissed it as “inconclusive,” but Jerry still swears it’s the real deal. To him, losing Linda was the price of chasing a legend. To her, it was the price of staying sane.
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RELATED TOPICS: Florida | Lifestyle | Paranormal | Weird News
Images in this article were created for illustrative purposes only by Kai Kim and are © Jack and Kitty Media Group.
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