A timely gem of wisdom floated across my computer screen this morning. While crude, using humor, it reminded me from whence I came. Thanks to six years of distance for providing perspective, I giggled in the remembering. It was even more fitting that the original question came from an Allyson (yes, also with a "y") from Canada, and yet the similarity was purely coincidental. I would like to note, that I do not believe in "no-fault" endings to a relationship; the individual should evaluate their life for weak areas in which they can grow that may have contributed to the situation, or to their negative reaction and pain. It may be there are co-dependent issues, delusions, personal character flaws, a lack of healthy boundaries, or lack of genuine self-respect. That in mind, read on (if you dare). If it applies, draw knowledge. If not, file it away for a future time to encourage a friend, or to remind yourself of your worth. :-)
(WARNING: unsavory language ahead)
NOTE: The piece remains uncensored, as to redact would diminish its essence.
In Response to Allyson in Canada
Dear Allyson,
Okay, she won. She beat you in the pick me dance for fantastic fucktard prizes. You got the set of luggage. She got the fucktard.
What did she win? Well, by your own description — a desperately needy, cruel, and unstable man. Yippee.
Oh no! But somehow in your imagination when they’re together it’s happy and wonderful. Somehow he magically had a character transplant with maturity injections and became someone capable of commitment and deep joy. That guy who walked out on his little daughter and you — a guy who abandoned his family and betrayed his friend — that’s Mr. Happy. That’s your prize there.
Perhaps you’re new here, but we call that a sparkly turd. All the sugar frosting and colored sprinkles cannot disguise a dog turd. It’s still a dog turd.
He can dress it up anyway he wants to — she’s his Twu Wuv, it was something bigger than them both (a huge turd castle?), the heart wants what the heart wants — he’s still a turd. And she’s a woman who won a turd.
It’s not about you, Allyson. I’m sorry — that’s at once liberating and infuriating. You didn’t matter to him. Your daughter didn’t matter. That does NOT mean you do not matter. It means he is not the benchmark of your worthiness — he’s someone more at home with fellow turds.
But you invested in him! Surely that must mean something! It means you got chumped. You extract the painful life lessons, and you move forward. You loved someone undeserving of your love. It was a one-way street. It doesn’t mean you were less than, because you’re not her. Thank GOD you’re not her! Do you want to be someone with less moral sense than God gave badgers? Do you want to be saddled with a narcissist? There is nothing here to feel jealous about, because she is not enviable. She just thinks she is.
And he wants you to be jealous, because that’s the pick me dance, and that provides kibbles to the cheaters. So please, I know it’s hard right now, but stop giving a shit about them. Start focusing on your new turd-free life. And stop worrying about Ms. Won-a-Turd being around your daughter. You’re the mommy, that love is primal, no one takes that away from you. This is your chance to model to your daughter how to be a badass. How you don’t tolerate disrespect. How you rebuild and reinvent yourself when life kicks you in the teeth. Do not model pick me dancing and turd envy.
You’re going to be fine, Allyson. You got the luggage set. YOU won.
This column ran previously. And somewhere in Canada, some OW idiot won a turd. I’m sure that worked out for her…
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