I just got up. I was having nightmares about my ex and being with his sister and this family that was supposed to be his. There was a hurricane coming and everything was getting dark, windy, wet and scary. I kept trying to find my husband, I was looking everywhere because I just had to talk to him. I was sure that if I spoke to him, he wouldn't be so cruel. I couldn't understand why he would leave me without even talking to me, without helping me deal with this in any way. How he could just stop loving me, stop caring about how I felt, when just the night before we had held each other all night long? He wasn't there. He had climbed out this window and run away with his mean slutty girlfriends. I shouldn't say slutty because it's such a slam to women and I like the idea of our being free to be as sexual as we please, but bear with me as I work through my anger here. Anyway he had gone off with all of these girls, they were young, heartless, cruel, skinny, slutty. I wanted to kill them, twist their heads off, that kind of thing. But I couldn't find him and no one was on my side. Later I had dreams about being with Scott and trying to get him to fuck me in the shower but that's a whole other dream subject. This is the one that's bothering me.
It was a similar dynamic to what happened in my waking life. My husband just ran off with this crazy, Vegas, hooker/stripper, addict girl, (Again, I'm fine with stripping, legalized prostitution, basically any kind of consensual sex, well, as long as it doesn't involve animals or children. I don't mean to judge, I'm just working through the hurt here.) He left the day before my birthday, then came back, let me throw him a birthday party, and then left again, and wouldn't return my sobbing phone calls. He just ran off and didn't help me deal with any of the fall out, not with my feelings and not with the feelings of his baffled seven year old little boy. Plus he left me in the middle of a total house remodel and he was the contractor. He left me with all of his possessions to deal with, and an entire house, two garages and two storage units, to pack and move.
After sixteen years of being together. He was my best friend, my family, my everything. We got together when I was eighteen and had been together through everything. His leaving was perfect for him, the cowardly boy man that he is. Why bother with all of those messy feelings? Why watch the woman you are abandoning suffer and cry? Better to run off and fuck away in motel after motel, then run out of money, and end up living at your Mom's house, at forty years of age. Then when she kicks your crazy girlfriend out, and then eventually you, you can always come back and beg your broken hearted wife to let you sleep in your son's old room, while you wank to pictures of your naked girlfriend. Lovely don't you think. It gets worse, much worse, there's drugs, guns, bigamy, and statutory rape, but I won't bore you.
I guess I'm still working through the rage and hurt. I bought a book called The Woman's Book of Revenge. I saw it at Ahhhs and grabbed it. I shouldn't have because it was too restimulating. All of these funny but kind of harsh (harsh like a big bong hit of cheap Mexican pot, segue, poor Whitney Huston's aunt, what was she thinking, stuffing ten joints in her lipstick case and going through airport security at this particular time in history) stories of women getting revenge on their exes. I laughed at some of it and then some of it just seemed mean.
Although I do get off a bit on the revenge fantasy thing. I wouldn't do it, but I love reading about other people who did. Cutting off just one sleeve of all of his favorite shirts, suits, pants and sweats, and then piling them all in the driveway, soaking them in gasoline and setting them on fire. Packing the vacuum with ashes and setting it to reverse. Hiding meat in hard to get to places in his house or car. Backing up all of the plumbing just before he takes a shower. Sending a gerbil in a pretty box to his work, with a note written on it saying, "Last night was a blast, let's play hide and seek again sometime soon. Love Roy". Throwing an, I'm Leaving the Bastard, party just as he gets home from work and invite all of your girlfriends. Seducing him, blindfolding him, stripping him naked, and tying him to the bed. Then leaving him there, just before all of his friends burst in for the surprise party you've invited them to.
You could always teach his parrot to say things like, Creepy Fucking Bastard, over and over. Create a LiveJournal using his name and say all kinds of embarrassing things about him. How bad his breath smells in the morning, what a drunk he is, how often he farts, that kind of thing. Hire a skywriter and fly a banner announcing what a bad lover he is, or how small his dick is. Make the new girlfriend paranoid and suspicious by leaving loving messages on his cell phone, paging him with little suspicious codes late at night, or sending anonymous valentines thanking him for the hot date. Change his outgoing message on his cell phone to something like, "Hello I'm not here right now because I'm busy banging my crack ho, or surfing for porn. I'm such a loser. please leave a message after the beep." Surf the teen porn, bestiality, bondage, pee and poop lover's sites, from his computer, and sign up for all of them using his cards. Respond to all of his junkmail asking for more. Fill out magazine subscription cards to anything that might embarrass him, Tiger Beat, My Favorite Boy Bands, or Playgirl, then send them to his work.
My favorite by far, and the one I was too nice to do, but Lord did I think about it for a while, is to take that nasty picture of his girlfriend, the one where she's standing naked in heels, in some sleazy motel with her leg hiked up on a table full of dirty Italian left overs, the one he was wanking to every night, make fifty or sixty copies of it, and send them out as wedding announcements to all of his relatives and friends saying, "Look who I've done. I'm a bigamist. Welcome your new in-law! With their names and the date of their cheap Vegas wedding." Just knowing I had the power to do that, the power to hurt him when he had hurt me so badly was enough, the fantasy of doing it made me feel so much better. That and my friend Aleida's making up a new name for the girlfriend, Wallethra, I don't know why, but it always made laugh when we called her that.
Okay gotta go, enough slumming around in my hurting past for one afternoon.