Confession time: I actually texted Mr. B after we broke up. There may have also been a scathing e-mail. Read on before you shake your head. And then feel free to shake your head at the end if you still feel the same way!
Rewind: After I insisted on Mr. B telling me he didn’t feel the same way about me anymore (click here for refresher), I had approximately 30 seconds of complete calm. I even initially offered him my place to stay for the duration of his trip. I then leaned over behind my Christmas tree to unplug my laptop, and struggled with jiggling it out of the outlet. This small act of frustration threw me into a rage, and I whipped around sending ornaments flying across the laminate floor. I told him to leave (there may have been an interlaced profanity or two), and then ran to the washroom and threw myself on the floor in a melodramatic heap.
Once I was sure he had left and I cautiously peeled myself off the floor, I realized he had left me a note:
“I’m sorry. I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”
Suddenly Mr. B, the former love-letter wordsmith, couldn’t even come up with a decent goodbye.
So alas, I texted. I told him he had treated me like garbage. That I had never felt so disgusted in my life. He had nothing new to say, but was kind enough to let me know that he had checked into a hostel and was “taking it easy” and “knows that I will have an awesome life without him playing a role in it.” Thanks, Mr. B. Not only are you a giant asshole, you are now a giant condescending asshole. But thanks for clarifying.
Today: Ever since starting this blog, I’ve been unconsciously composing a letter to Mr. B in my head. I woke up at 3 a.m. this morning and reached for my laptop as it all came spilling out of my fingertips. It was raw and honest. Scathing at times. Emotional but composed. I ended it by telling him that if he bothered to write back, I wouldn’t read it. I blocked all his e-mails, numbers and social media accounts, just as a safeguard. Giant condescending assholes tend to want to get the last word in.
I then sat back, and realized that I genuinely didn’t want a response. That I would not have blocked him from contacting me if some small part of me wanted to see his reaction. I didn’t send this e-mail to elicit a response; I did it for myself.
Mr. B will never understand what he did to me, nor would it change how I feel if he did. I have no hope of reconciliation. I have no intention of “getting back at him” or “back with him.” And that in itself, was a small step forward today.
Current Status: finally washed my hair / feeling a titch less bat-shit crazy / hoping you are no longer shaking your head