Did you know there’s a folder inside of Facebook Messenger entitled ‘Filtered Requests’? First, you have to go to ‘People’, then inside of the ‘Message Requests’ folder there, you have to click on ‘Filtered Requests’. I had no idea such a sub-folder existed until April 25th of 2017. On that day, my thumb or finger or some combination thereof somehow tapped the correct buttons in the correct sequence as I grabbed my phone from my pocket. Concealed right under my nose on a phone that I touch every day were some very old and very revealing unread messages from you.
3 years, 2 months and 4 days after my husband walked out on me with zero warning, traumatizing me and our children in ways that I struggle to put words to even today, the universe saw fit to let me see those messages. In them, you claim to be trying to give me a ‘heads up’ that you had been sleeping with my husband. I finally understand why you’ve been making assertions that I ‘knew’. You assumed I got your messages. I did not.
Just a thought here, but if I were to send a series of messages to a woman with 2 little babies at home telling her I’d been secretly having sex with her spouse, I’d be pretty surprised by a lack of response. But here’s the thing: you weren’t. Or more to the point, you didn’t care if there was a response or not, because those messages were never about my well-being. They were for you. Your intent was not to alert me to the affair out of some benevolence on your part. It was to force the truth to come out, leaving Honey to have to choose between us.
And frankly, anyone who knows anything about horse racing would wisely bet on ‘Fresh New Sparkly Stripper Sex’, for the win, because ‘Post-Partum Stay at Home Mom in Yoga Pants with Baby Puke in Her Hair’ has much lower odds to place. You took a gamble that using me as leverage would pay off for you. Then, you took another gamble on the Night of 1,000 Horrors and faked a pregnancy scare once you realized things might not go your way.
You rigged the game. You CHEATED ON TOP OF CHEATING. And by the way, gambling with other people’s lives doesn’t make you edgy. It makes you disgraceful.
Pretty sure my theory about you trying to ‘win’ is correct, because as I read through the messages, I noticed you’d tried to send different variations of the same ‘heads up’ three separate times. Twice before Honey came home from working on the road, and again during the Night of 1,000 Horrors.
And since we’ve all read ahead in the saga, we know you ended up marrying this man, so it doesn’t exactly sound like you were morally outraged by his choice to intentionally keep me in the dark. I’m sure things will work out for you, though. I mean, you’re his REAL true love and he would never do such horrific things to you because you’re special and different from the rest of us mere mortals.
So, as I’m prone to do, I’m gonna take a look-see at these messages and dissect them in all their slimy glory. Gonna need my hip-waders for this one…
1st attempt: January 16th, 2014:
|Stupid? No. A stupid woman spends way too much on a handbag. A woman who knowingly destroys the life of another woman and her two toddlers? That is…something else. Something requiring a whole ‘nother lexicon of vocabulary words, not the LEAST of which is ‘stupid’.|
He prefers to go on tricking you into investing years of your life with him, you see. And I’m just here as the well-meaning intercessor to help you make an INFORMED DECISION. Go ahead. Ask me anything. I’d love to grind salt into the wound I’ve just opened by providing whatever detail that might do the trick to GET YOU TO LEAVE HIM.
I’m leaving him to incite drama and create a triangulation where you will now hate him, and he will have to chase me. I really like it when men chase me. I have no intention of actually going anywhere.
|He’s coming home to you or something I guess. Whatever. Pfffft.
Well, that would be a reasonable guess since I was his WIFE. Should he be going home to his pterodactyl? What other guesses are reasonable, given the fact that he was married?
2nd attempt: 2/5/14
|So very thoughtful of you to think about what you’d want to be done for you, were you on the receiving end of this. Let me jot this down: You would want the home-wrecker to detail their profoundly inappropriate actions…and then announce indifference at the chosen manner of your response. Got it.
Also so glad to hear that what I choose to do about my husband’s affair is my business. For a moment there, I thought you were going to interfere with yet another facet of my life and decide the appropriate level of moral outrage for me. Real big of ya to let me figure that one out on my own.
|Well, I knew nothing of you. I found out who you were you on FaceBook after Honey refused to come clean about anything and then bolting out of town. How nice to have had the luxury of all that INFORMATION.
Oh no! I’m so sorry to hear your heart is breaking. Let me grab you a tiss- wait a minute. Did you just…solicit sympathy from me? This cannot be real life.
|You let a strange man you’d just met in a bar and who you knew was married stay with you and your small children IN YOUR HOME? What in the hell is the matter with you, woman? Are you insane?
And you were SO sorry, in fact, that you went on to repeatedly encourage him to leave me on the night of 1,000 horrors, make fun of me on Facebook shortly thereafter, and later marry him. You ARE sorry, just not in the way that meant.
Attempt #3: February 22nd, 2014: The night of 1,000 horrors…
|I’ve erased everything…but not before documenting every horrifying selfy and love note for you because I really CARE about you, Wife. (p.s. which of these poems or love letters will get you to leave him? Oh, never mind, here’s all of them!)
There were literally, like, 15 more pages of texts and emails and love notes he’d written her, but I have spared this audience of having to wade through them all as I did…
there was someone else…
|It sounds like her patience is wearing thin. She REALLY wants me to know there was ‘someone else’.
Why aren’t I hearing her and kicking him out yet? Hurry up and get pissed and send him packing back to me already, Wife! Geez.
|The Galleria of Horror: she attaches my husband’s love letters, emails, and pics of our children that he’d sent her.
|Pics of my spouse and children, and then:
‘I have plenty of videos from your house too.’
You don’t say.
Is one of them of my kitchen so you can get a feel for where I keep my large pots? Because nothing says ‘you’ll soon be enjoying some of my delicious rabbit stew’ like the words you just wrote here.
It’s even more enjoyable and creepy when I imagine you whispering it…
|A love sonnet, by Honey…
I will give you my soul! I will give you my heart! But I can’t give you fidelity, because I’m not actually sure what that word means. Are fidelities those little tassle-thingies that strippers wear on-stage? No? Then no, I legitimately do not know what fidelity means.
I’m sure we won’t need it though, whatever it is. We have the feels!
|Some of us will never get that one moment that confirms our worst fears about the monstrous characters of our exes. We suspect there’s something seriously wrong with them, but often lack that one thing that convinces us without a shadow of a doubt.
I am lucky to not have that problem.
The mystery of whether or not my ex-husband actually is a narcissistic sociopath is answered definitively in the repugnant email to your left.
Co-opting the innocent and trusting nature of your child (that you will soon abandon) to impress your mistress while your trusting wife is a few feet away cooking your dinner? Nope, nothing morally bankrupt or creepy about that whatsoever…
|My spouse with my 1 year old daughter, posing her for the camera to show his mistress. He promptly plopped her down in front of the TV as soon as he was done. How would I know this? I was watching him from the next room, wondering innocently who he was sending the all the daddy-brag pics to, while simultaneously feeling frustrated that he was only paying attention to the children for pictures. Stupid, stupid me…ugggg|
|Sigh. Preg? Really? Is possible pregnancy with a married man’s baby something you should toss around as carelessly as a toddler wielding a gun? Is this just a typical Tuesday afternoon for you, then? Gonna have me some Pep and wreck a fam and watch me some Pov. Oh right, better make it a Diet Pep because I may be PREG…
How about this abbreviation? WRECKER. Now that’s an abbreviation I can get on board with.
And why on earth don’t you KNOW if you’re pregnant at 6 days late? You do know they make tests that can tell you if you are even before you’ve missed your period, right? The fact is, you’re just a liar, and a very bad one at that. If you wonder how I believe this to be the oldest man-trap in the book, I refer you to some light reading:
|Oooo! Ooo! I won? What’d I win? Is it bigger than a breadbox?
As it turns out, my prize was the only thing Honey gave me of any value: my freedom. The nonsense he pulled was one hell of a way to give me that reward, after a I’d demonstrated a lifetime of work and investment and love and care to him. But I can’t argue that the end result of freedom was (almost) worth it.
But aside from all that, I must say that as far as dramatic soap opera cliff-hangers go, HomeWrecker absolutely nailed it.
Guess u know…
|First Sentence: I’m here to help you by telling you all this, Wife! Really! No, really!
Second Sentence: (thinks she may not get her way) Flips immediately to angry sarcasm.
Third Sentence: Defiant, unapologetic, in your face crazy-town.
H Dubs, may we huddle up for a sec? Listen. I don’t know how to break this to you without sounding less than kind, but…I think you have been watching WAAAAAAY too many Telenovelas. Put down the remote control and back away slowly. Nobody’s trying to thwart your right to keep your imaginary star-crossed lovechild. This is not an episode of Maria la del Barrio. Or is it?!
|How DARE you try to go to counseling with your spouse of 14 years and the mother of your children! You are ruining your life by trying to act like an honorable man, because that’s not who you are! Those other lives (wife, kids) are IRRELEVANT in the centrally-themed soap opera that I want you to believe you star in! It’s all about you, Honey. And my definition of loveless. Oh, and me. Lots and lots of me.
I’m so glad that H Dubs was trying to help me again. She’s so thoughtful like that!
This concludes our program for today, ladies and gentlemen. Will Don Fernando and Guadalupe keep the baby? Will Senor Caro be able to teach Maria to act like a lady? Will Thalia and Fernando betray Maria once again for true love?! Please tune it next time to find out…
‘Maria la Del Barrio’ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mar%C3%ADa_la_del_Barrio