Real Talk | Sometimes He's Just a Dirtbag
Oh look, the calendar tells me it's #TruthfulTuesday and it's time for our 'Real Talk' sesh. This week, I'm going to rant and rave about something that's been stuck in my craw for a week or so. Indulge me. Self-discovery tends to make you...well...discover things.
Last week, if you follow me on The Gramstagrams, you saw me call out my former fiance in my Stories. I saw him creeping as he's wont to do (you can see who's viewing you like Snapchat), and I went BANANAS and publicly called him out to the effect of, "Yo, dickweasel, quit creeping me, blah, blah, rage, blah, DOCTOR. Get bent, DAHHHHLING."
Now, before I explain why I went bananas, let me preface this by saying I don't normally do this. I tend to be pretty philosophical about my relationships no matter how they end. I honest to goodness don't harbor ill feelings toward anyone... even my ex-husband has redeeming qualities and musters mostly an eyeroll from me when he's being ridiculous. The One Who Shall Not Be Named, gets a shrug and an eyeroll... Austin gets a giggle and a, 'well that was fun, don't do THAT again,' and we've pretty much covered all of my exes at this point. OG and I are still besties, so I have the besties forevs feelers about him still (another blog post about that, later).
Basically, these are all decent guys at the core who are pretty damned flawed and did some pretty shitty things. Hey! Just like me! I'm not saying it's okay and I forgive them, and give out free passes for terrible behavior like lollipops, but I'm saying that I get the human condition and when something is done for me, it's done and I don't dwell on it. Karma sorts the winners out in time. I'll leave vengeance in her capable hands.
Jeremy on the other hand?
He's a dirtbag and deserves a spot on the 'His Superior Majesty, King Douche' throne. Congrats, you are the ONLY ex I simply can't find a single redeeming quality in to forgive atrocious behavior. Right down to that fake ass, Dorit from RHOBH, accent.
So you're all scratching your heads like, "Well, Jenn, this is a bit of a delayed reaction, isn't it? You guys broke up a long time ago."
True. I think the anger started bubbling up for two reasons. One, I'm doing a lot of internal work on myself to prevent another disaster like that guy, and with that comes truths I have to deal with. Like, this wasn't a good guy that couldn't get out of his own way you just weren't compatible with. This is a textbook dirtbag.
Two? I sit in traffic everyday on the highway that passes the hospital he pretended to be on staff at for months. I look at it and sometimes I literally scream in the car. The drama, the way he made everything my fault, the resources and emotional investments I made into his oh so important and distinguished 'career,' it was all a magnificent farce that came to a head when I went to drop him off dinner one night, and when I asked to have 'Dr. Dickhole' paged, I was told he wasn't on staff there and never had been; after he had been berating me all night with texts about how 'busy' he was and suffering terribly while saving the world.
So with all of these truths swirling and his fuckery staring me in the face every morning, his creeping my social media set me off. Wait a minute...yeah...I can take responsibility for being pretty damn stupid for a really long time, out of nostalgia and wanting something in my life to have a happy ending after 18 months of struggle, but that doesn't excuse ANY of what he pulled. Like, not one thing. Don't creep my Instagram or Snapchat like a deranged boomerang hoping to capitalize on some vulnerability or fodder to make me out to be a villain to whatever new victim you're convincing into believing you're the biggest victim on the planet. Slither off into the nearest hole, you sniveling mantwat.
Which brings us to the point. Ladies, it does take two in every relationship, but sometimes you just pick a dirtbag predator, and the only thing you're guilty of is seeing the potential good in them for too long. I can't give any stellar advice on how to get over it, other than be mad for as long as you need to be mad at THEM not yourself. They deserve your anger. They also deserve your silence. Don't rage at them and demand validation...it'll just get turned around on you. Delete their number and their existence from your entire life. If you choose to call them out publicly as I have, be ready to be a stone cold assassin if they clap back. Usually they don't because they're cowards and don't want the world to hear anymore truth because it blows up their whole con. I'm sure I got 'vaguebooked' about how 'trashy' I am from his parents' house on their wifi, on a computer/tablet/mobile device they pay for.
Geeze, just typing that made me remember that time he 'lost his phone' on a bender in Chicago, and I had to call him an Uber to go replace his phone at the AT&T store, and he came back with a 'new phone' but no shopping bag or box from the phone. Jesus, he probably just went to the bar he left it in as collateral for his tab and got it. Then he ordered 'off menu' that night and it was FUCKING LOBSTER. Which is fine, because Jenn is the only one without a fake MD after her name, so she's got the bill because non-pretend jobs pay.
I need to stop. Rage is simmering. Save it for the book, Jenn. Save it for the book.
**breathes into paper bag**
Also remind yourself of the good that came out of the dumpster fire, because there's always something. I got material for dayyyyzzzzzz for a book I'm working on. I also learned that you can't put an understudy to play a replacement role in a relationship to avoid the pain of it ending with the original person. Hello, rebound! Every relationship that ends has to be mourned and released before another has a chance of surviving, and you're actually picking the person and not the void you need to fill.
Oh and in the words of national treasure, Judge Judy, if it doesn't make sense, it's NOT TRUE.
You're not a failure, you suffered from temporary blindness for whatever reason. Get mad, get the closure you need, and when you're ready? Release it to Karma's capable hands. She knows exactly how to handle dirtbags. She makes them turn 40 in their mother's house.