10 Things I Hate About YOU

It has been weeks (about 6, in case you were wondering) since I have stalked Berlin's facebook page. I looked at it again today -- but solely for the purposes of this posting. I'm chalking it up to journalistic curiosity.

The truth is there's nothing there anyway. Just a bunch of stupid comments from old friends, and frankly, I figure its about time to end the madness anyway. I know what I need to know. He sucks. We've both moved on.

But that doesn't mean that I have been entirely mature about the whole thing. In fact I was decidedly childish. But what can I say, love drives you mad sometimes, and not being loved - well that drives you madder.

You know the old adage ... hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And damn, had I ever been scorned. So scorned my skin was on fire, and if there was some way, any way, that I could hurt him back, I was going to take it. I'm not proud of my vindictive streak, I'm just honest about it.

So in mid December, I sent him this email:

Please do me a favor and return the items that I gave you. You can mail them when you are back in the States after Christmas, since I know you are too cheap to spring for the international postage. I would appreciate it, if you would also burn the letter I wrote, delete emails and whatever other items might connect you to me, that is, if you haven’t done so already.

I threw out the plants.

Please don’t reply.

The thing about the plants was just a way to piss him off. He had given me a bunch of plants when he moved. He had studied botany or horticulture or plant biology or something like that in college. He could name all sorts of plants, and when we'd be out on walks he would always be teaching me something about some kind of plant or flower. I loved it. I happen to know relatively little on the subject, but I have always had an interest. I used to have a big orchid collection, and a lot of plants at home, but over the years of moving, and apartment dwelling, it became hard to really maintain, and most of them either died or had to be given away. I have always wanted my own backyard and some time to design a garden. I had started one when the X and I bought a house, but since we moved and the house is going into foreclosure, my lovely yard is now a sad, and untended mess. It took so little time to undo that labor of love - and while I'm talking about the Garden, it seems an apt metaphor for the relationship as well.

I actually cared about the plants, and I figured Berlin knew it. And I know that at one time he cared that they might actually have a proper home in which to flourish. Me deliberately killing them was a destructive act that was meant to be hurtful. Who knows. Maybe by then he had long since given up on them, and me. They were just plants. But even so - I couldn't REALLY throw them out. I said I did (and I kinda wanted to throw them out the window on a couple of occasions) but in the end I simply couldn't do it. So I still have them, I just lied and said I didn't.

After that email I waited. And when he did exactly what I asked - that is he did not reply - I began to stew in my own angry juices and I chose to further provoke the situation. I emailed Marian. Yup that's right. I emailed her and told her that Berlin and I had been having an affair. I told her that he told me he wasn't sure he loved her and that he suspected her of cheating, and that he had said he was awful and uncaring and that he wasn't sure he was making the right choice in moving in with and across the world for her. I said things he told me in confidence. Things that only he could know. Private things, so that she would know I was telling the truth.

I justified it by claiming that I would want to know if I was her. And I think the truth is I would. But it would be a bald-faced lie for me to claim that revealing the sordid details of my sexual tryst with Berlin was something I did out of kindness. It was pure, unadulterated spite, and targeted wholly at him.

I knew he had already bought a ticket back to the town in New York where he was from for Christmas. I had a sneaking suspicion that he would be back here for a visit. He's incredibly social and can't stay away from his friends, plus he mentioned he was thinking of driving to Texas with his Dad - and my fair city happens to be a hop skip and a jump off that path. I wondered if he might show up on my doorstep to berate me for outing his indiscretions. I sort of hoped he would. I was itching for a face-to-face fight.

I wondered silently for weeks whether my actions invoked the ire I had anticipated. I got my answer on day when I came home from the store and noticed a package wrapped in a plastic bag in my mailbox. Inside was the journal and the ipod I had given him as a parting gift at the airport, and on the first page was a handwritten note.

If you need to demonize me inside your deranged mind in order to justify why you are a cheating wife that is one thing. You have no basis for this, but it is something that I can accept. What I cannot accept is that you attacked Marion, a woman you really know nothing about, with your evil, "I know this about you," and "I know that about you," comments. You have no justification for this, it is purely evil, and a window into the true despicable person that you are. I have nothing but disdain for you. You should be ashamed and I am happy to report that your evil plan did not work, but has brought Marion and I closer together. please leave me alone you deplorable person.

When I finished reading it my hands were shaking . And then I started laughing. The whole thing was so incredibly ridiculous. I had been such a complete fool in every respect. I was strangely relieved by the fact that he was as immature as I was, but still pissed as hell. I wanted to kick and scream and beat him with my fists and tell him how much he had hurt me and how much I wanted to see him suffer. I wanted to see the anger on his face. I wanted to create a scar so deep he would never forget it.

The idea that after everything he just couldn't fucking say"I'm sorry that I hurt you this much you feel the need to lash out in such an inexcusable way." The fact that he was unable to shoulder even a drop of blame infuriated me. And what was the bitterest pill to swallow was his accusation that I was a "cheating wife." Perhaps it was because it was true. I had been a cheating wife. I was once as dishonest and untrustworthy and adulterous as he was. But not with him. I wanted something better from him, and instead, he turned it into something ugly. And I hated him for it. If I could have I would have gotten on a plane, tracked him down at his doorstep and given him a piece of my mind while I straddled him with my hands around his throat. It's a good thing I didn't choose that route since I'm much more skilled with my words than my hands, and I probably would have been the one getting choked. Sp I did the next best thing. I wrote him one final email, and I swore it would be the last communication between us.

Berlin-

The idea that of the two of us, I am the cheater, is absolutely laughable. Months before I met you I told my husband it was over and I planned to see other people. The fact that I kept it quiet and didn’t throw it in his face was my being respectful of his feelings. And let’s not forget, I moved OUT. You moved IN with Marion. Who are you kidding?? I was not hiding our relationship from my friends or my X. You were. The only deranged one here is you.

Oh, and should you feel like sharing it with him, be my guest. I told him about you long ago. He asked me why it ended and I told him it was because there was someone else – and you know what he said? So why was he seeing you then? Good question. Better question: why was I seeing you? Answer: Because you lied to me and told me the relationship was ending. Because you were not forthcoming with your full relationship history with Marion, or your future intentions toward her.

You go right ahead and make me into the devil if you want, because whatever haughty, self-righteous “disdain” you have for me, it does not even begin to scratch the surface of the pure hatred I have for you. The fact that I ever even had the slightest affection or respect for you is the only thing that pains me now. The fact that I turned a blind eye to your obvious fucked-up character.

You are a spineless, insensitive, delusional, selfish, washed-up loser with zero integrity, and I cannot thank God enough for ending that pregnancy and not binding me to you with a child. If the knowledge of the indiscretions brought on by your obvious mid-life crisis has served to draw you and your teenage lover closer together then, bravo. You have my blessing, because there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that you two deserve each other. Go with God.

And here’s a little piece of advice. If you decide to cheat on Marion again, when you break it off with your lover, do yourself a favor and show just the smallest amount of tenderness and respect to her. Make her feel that even for a little while she was valued, and that the moments you shared were ones you will remember fondly. Show her a few small gestures of affection and appreciation for the fact that she cared for you, went out of her way to help you pack, let you share her home, was thoughtful enough to buy you a present, and got up at 4 in the morning to carry your heavy boxes and drive you and your dog and all your shit to the airport when even your closest friends wouldn’t. Comfort her in her time of deepest loss, and when she says she’s going to miss you, the appropriate response is “I’ll miss you too.” Not “GOOD.” For someone as adept at lying as you, I would have thought telling one or two more wouldn’t have killed you. But then again that would require a level of empathy and thoughtfulness that is evidently beyond what you are capable of.

If it makes you feel better to call me evil and deplorable and despicable, you go right ahead. If nothing else, convincing yourself this is all part of my evil plan should make it easier to look in the mirror every day. But the facts are this: I was always completely honest. You were not. My relationship with you was never a secret. If revealing it to Maria is perceived as an attack – well – that’s probably because YOU kept it a secret. And it’s probably because YOU actually said all the things I said you did. Did I have to share them with her? Nope. But I really began to wonder if your depiction of her as a cold-hearted tease who kept you hanging at the end of an endless string of lovers was accurate. Maybe that was bullshit like everything else. A way for your “deranged mind” to justify that you are a cheating boyfriend who was just stringing me along. If it was, then you’re an asshole and she ought to know the truth, and if not, well then none of what I said should have come as any real surprise now should it? If she’s really fucking every guy in sight right under your nose, and believes in open relationships, then she shouldn’t really give a shit, should she? Either way, you can both feel free to hate me all you like. I’m not losing too much sleep over it these days.

The irony that I hope one day you’ll come to appreciate is the ire and wrath I am invoking on you now could have all been avoided – by either the smallest amount of genuine tenderness on your part, or... with a few compassionate white lies. How funny is that?

It’s almost as funny as the fact that you hand-delivered your hate mail. Brilliant! You are even cheaper than I thought.

And I haven't written or spoken to him since.

Though this cool line of hate mail cards sure makes me wish I had one more round of venom in me. Check em' out : http://www.junkmailgreetings.bigcartel.com/