Oh, You

Dear You,

Yes… you. Let’s chat.

See now the great thing about blogging is that it comes with archives that are easily accessible, time stamped, dated, and this nifty thing called a statistic report. There’s a lot of information in my stats, but the most poignant is where my views come from, how many times things are clicked, and how many people are associated with each view. I know you never really stopped reading even after the entire charade last summer. I don’t have to go anywhere besides my email inbox to know that.

However, after the tire stabbing incident (which you may or may not be involved with, but lets be honest: how many people stab at tires instead of the usual slashing method? I’ve only met one, and yelling his name as you drove away doesn’t really do much for plausible deniability even if you weren’t the one actually holding the knife) many people became concerned for not only my safety, but the safety of my kids when we were visiting my family. A few of those people have been keeping an eye out for public “rants” from you ever since.

I meant what I said when I wrote the Limits of Compassion. People told me that you posted several public “replies” to things I wrote last year. Now the fact that they were public should be enough to tell you it wasn’t our one remaining mutual friend. That’s why we only have one remaining mutual friend. She doesn’t meddle, like the others did. Anyway… I never read them myself, but I am aware of them and have a general idea of what was said. The only reason your most recent post got my attention was because of how foolish you look, and the fact that no one else seems to want to point it out.

Since I haven’t written anything directed at you since last July, and I haven’t written anything about the short relationship I had with your husband since December, I’m going out on a limb to say the post that got you all upset was this one, which is pretty hilarious honestly, for several reasons.

A) I shared that post. I didn’t write it. So you’re right about the fact that none of that stuff happened between your husband and I. Because it happened between Lucky Otter author of the post and her ex husband.

B) Your husband’s biggest issue has always been the fact that he bounced his face off of one too many windshields. He doesn’t have NPD. He might think he does, but he’s entirely too self aware for that. Science! You should try it.

C) Our final point: While the post wasn’t directed at anyone, least of all yourself, you did manage to provide a shining illustration of the point discussed there in. Which was, since it’s pretty clear you missed it, that NPD often goes undiagnosed or misdiagnosed as bi-polar. Or maybe you didn’t miss the point, and that’s the real reason you got upset only attempting to poorly mask it with some nonsense about the relationship I had with your husband so many years ago.

How many years ago? Coming up here in November it’ll be eleven. Eleven being three more than eight, which on top of misinterpreting the shared article, makes you look even more foolish. Don’t sit there and try to tell me what did or didn’t happen in my life when you were thousands of miles away, in a completely different state, dating and/or married to another man. I know you think you’re defending your husband’s honor, blah blah blah. But really it just makes you look supremely jealous and insecure.

Now your husband, he gets a free pass. He gets to say whatever the hell he wants to say, because HE WAS THERE. Two people can sit in the same room for the same amount of time, walk out and remember different things. That’s how memory works. Our relationship was no different. I’m sure he remembers things that I’ve forgotten and vice versa. It’s been eleven fucking years since the beginning of “us”. We’re allowed to forget some stuff, and that doesn’t make either one of us a liar. Especially considering that he was still recovering from windshield number 2 and wasn’t quite all there all of the time.

I know a lot of what I shared was pretty outrageous, and difficult to read. That’s why I sent you that message before I published anything, remember? The one that said: Hey, I’m going to be writing some stuff about your husband that you probably won’t want to read? Yes, well here we are. Now you understand what I was talking about. I also saved the message for anyone who might be reading this that really wants to see it. I’ll share it privately.

Good news: I finished all of my writing in regards to my recovery last year. I was hoping that the lack of posts this year would clue you in without me actually having to tell you, but apparently not. Yeah. I’m really done. Holy shit, I did move on! Now what?