Sequela

You told me the truth. I should have listened:

“I’m radioactive dog shit to women.”

At the time, I chided you for saying such a terrible thing about yourself. However, I would eventually learn the truth. I had all the puzzle pieces in my possession, I just didn’t realize it yet. I am a bit slow in areas of the heart. Even when logic is screaming right in my Pollyanna face.

When I did snap those pieces together, the picture sickened me.

You hate all women. They are either “demonic”, borderline personality disordered, narcissistic feminists (your favorite way to diagnose every female around you), or they are insipid, bleating sheep. You hate them all.

Click

You are at odds with everyone in every single area of your life, but curiously, it’s never by your doing. At odds with your work, your church, your family, your ex, your kids, your friends, and society in general. But somehow, it’s always THEM. You have zero self-accountability. None.

Click

You engaged someone in a shared incestuous fantasy with possibly even pedophilic undertones with no regret. You eagerly became one of her many “pets” when a morally upright and psychologically sound MAN would have blocked an individual like that immediately as soon as he realized what was going on with her. When confronted, you became defensive, “It’s in the aether,” you said. You were quick to downplay the gravity and implications of your sick compulsions. You are both sick fucks and should seek help. Yes, this revelation was the ultimate deal-breaker for me. I cannot and will not associate with this depravity.

Click

We don’t speak any longer (thank God) and I’m sure if anyone were to ask you, I was 100% the problem. You’d tell them how I ended up being a covert narcissist and tricked you. Yes… Go ahead and place me on that huge shelf alongside every other evil woman who has ever wronged you in your poor, victimized life.

I'm not perfect, but I own every tender morsel of my bullshit. I don't cower behind the perceived ill actions of others or behind circumstances. I OWN what's mine. The weak-minded make excuses and hide.

I’ve scraped the memory of you off on the curb and on the lawn the best I could, but I ended up throwing those shoes away anyhow. The nausea comes in waves. The sight of your name in print, or hearing it spoken makes me fight the urge to vomit. Sequela of the initial exposure.

The radiation dose was not fatal. However, it was more than enough to sicken me.