I got my ass reamed tonight. The phone rang and by the time I hung it up 20 minutes later, my ear was chewed off and bleeding. There were a lot of nasty things said and the person on the other end of the line was mad, mad, mad at me. And I was mad, mad, mad right back, because I felt that she took some seriously low blows. I hung up the phone and was finishing cooking dinner, crying all the while (because I do that when I’m angry) and thinking, “How could she say those things to me? She was just cruel and hurtful!”
And then it occurred to me: I started it.
This woman is the one and only person who I ever personally called out on this blog. We had a disagreement several months ago and she made it clear that she had no intention of speaking with me again so I had a little fun at her expense. I imagine that it was not a pleasant experience to find a little essay about herself hanging around on the the Internet.
So neighbor “Fern”: I apologize for writing about you on the blog. It wasn’t a great move. The post is gone. I imagine that you still think I’m selfish (I am many, many things but I’m pretty confident in saying that that ain’t one of them) and that my blog is boring and “about nothing.” But one thing about me, Fern, is that when I realize that I’m wrong about something, I admit it. So I was wrong. You deserved better. I honestly regret writing the post. Sorry.
And now, I’m about to call out my second person.
To my supposed “friend” who was oh-so-hopeful in suggesting things Fern could say to me that would “get” me, I say this: Honey, I been “got” more ways in the past few months than you can ever fucking imagine, so don’t waste your energy on me. But what I would like to remind you is that while my husband and I are getting divorced, we remain coparents. It might not be obvious by this little blog here that lulls you to sleep, but it’s really an effort to take the supposed high road sometimes. There are a lot of things — some of them volatile — that just have to be let go. Now I don’t know who you are, but my guess is that you’re a mother. I don’t think it was your intention to try to add venom to a situation that we are working diligently to keep poison-free. We’d really like our kids to grow up with parents who can be in the same room at the same time. So just keep in mind that other people’s dramas are not a spectator sport — they’re very real and there are children involved and you don’t know the whole story, even if you think you do. If you ever choose to man up and tell me who you are, I’d be glad to buy you a beer and enlighten you on some of the more entertaining moments I’ve had over the past few months. I wouldn’t wish divorce on anyone. If you want some entertainment, go to the movies.
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