This evening, on my way out the door to get some more ink for my printer and supplies for my final Journalism 102 project, I stopped to check my mail.
I'm a big fan of the proverbial "snail mail," especially when it's from a friend. Otherwise, it's just filled with the prerequisite bills, junk mail and ads. Along with tonight's wonderful buffet of bad ads came a letter for my ex from "Jared, the Galleria of Jewelry." Oh yeah. It stared me directly in the face.
Ok, for those of you who may be new or for those who know this but can't remember, my ex bought jewelry for the Bassett Hound Faced Bitch (his mistress) at Jared's. Yeah, while I was begging for replacements for underwear with holes in them or maybe a new sweater so I wouldn't freeze my ass off in winter, my ex was paying top dollar for her to have an array of new jewelry. From $250 necklaces, $300 for a ring and so forth, she was being given jewelry while I was having to beg for the most mundane of necessities. New socks aren't too much to ask for, are they? While I was being told no to getting new socks, she was wearing new jewelry provided by my ex without even a second thought to me. Trust me, after I found the jewelry receipts I asked him point blank, "Did I even cross your mind as you were doing this?" He replied with one word. "No."
Before he left, I was suspicious when the ads from Jared's started arriving, but I figured those showed up because my ex was on some marketing list that Jared's bought so they could do some direct mail advertising. No. I find out later through a stack of receipts that he had been buying her quite the bit of jewelry.
After he left, the ads from Jared's just kept coming. I yelled, I cried and I begged him to get those to stop showing up in my mailbox because every time I saw one, it was another slap in the mouth. I told him to write, call or do SOMETHING to make it stop, but alas, he did nothing. (And this is surprising, why?)
It's ok to hate him. I do and it's just one amongst many horrible things that man did over ten years. But, I've moved on, I've done great things and he's the last thing on my mind usually. To be honest, a day spent where I don't think of him is a happy one.
But, looking in the mailbox tonight, what do I find? Another ad "letter" from Jared's. I stood at my mailbox looking at it, once more having the knife shoved into my gut and maliciously twisted. It was at that point that I said out loud, "I've had enough of this shit." Oh, let me tell you, I saw red. I ranted, "I don't get screwed over any more, thank you very much, and I'll be damned if I allow some dickless wonder who ran off with a detestable tramp to shit on another single one of my days." I had officially "had it." I decided right then and there it was high time I went on the offensive.
Being that I was on my way to Office Depot for some supplies and Jared's is in the same shopping center, I threw the mail into my passenger seat and hit the gas. If that loathsome, lying, cheating, worthless son-of-a-bitch wasn't going to take care of it and put an end to it, I was. I sat in my car, a million thoughts running through my head about how I'd feel walking into that store where that bastard had brought his little hussy to spend our rent money, what I was going to say, how I was going to say it and most of all, how I was going to put an end to the endless stream of gut-wrenching reminding I've taken about what my sad sack of crap ex has done to me.
At the corner nearing the store, some bonehead decided to cut me off. Oh, that fella picked the WRONG night to mess with me. I laid on my horn and went ballistic. I've had enough of getting crapped on!
So, ad letter in hand, I parked the car in front of the store and walked up to the door I had dreaded passing every single day since I found out about the screwing I took. I grabbed the handle, walked in and sat with my jaw open over the fact that my ex not once thought of me when walking through that same door. I started to feel sick, but it was a defining moment, it was one of two choices, I either went back to my car and cried or I would gut it out and put a stop to it.
I gutted it out. I walked into the store to be met by a nice young salesman named Andrew and politely asked for the manager. The manager was busy, but since Andrew was the assistant manager, he'd have to do. I put the letter on the counter and said, "Hi, I just got this out of my mailbox, but see, there's a problem." He said, "It's not your address?" I said, "No, it is my address and on the front of the letter IS my ex-husband's name. The only problem is that he never bought me jewelry from your store. He bought jewelry for his MISTRESS from your store. While I was begging for new socks so I could throw out ones with holes, he was buying that woman jewelry from your store." The young man's face went ashen. "I said, that's right. Every single time your ad comes to my house, it's a reminder of what that son of a gun did to me. Now I know this isn't your fault, but I really would like it if you could do something to make it stop." Andrew grabbed the ad letter off the counter and went straight to his computer. He recited all of my ex's contact information and even his cellphone number. My gut hit the floor. I said, "Yes, that's him, but he's packed up and moved to Kentucky, so he won't be buying any more jewelry from you here. Please, can you do something." He said, "I've made sure that there is no more mail being sent to your address from us." I thanked him and left.
I got into the car, shaken from what I had just done. The tears were starting to come up, but it was then I realized something. I put a stop to something that the ex had done. I gutted it out and I came out on the other side. I started the engine of the car, put it into reverse and sped away from the store, proud of myself that I confronted the problem and fixed it.
I then went over to Office Depot, got the stuff I needed and took myself to dinner.
I gutted it out and I'm proud of myself. One more thing off the radar that I won't have to think about again.
But let me tell you, if another single piece of mail comes to my house from Jared, The Galleria of Jewelry, someone's going to get it shoved clean up their butt.
Today, Seether's "Rise Above This" seems appropriate.
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