I used to muse about my ex, mr. invisible, getting hit by a truck, a swift and sloppy ending to a life that appeared well-lived–but was not. When I would actually verbalize my thoughts of his untimely end, my friends warned me about bad karma and the boomerang theory–wish it for someone else, and it just might happen to you, they said.
So, I’d quit thinking of the hit by a truck scenario for awhile–until the next time it popped into my head. The last I heard, the runaway truck hasn’t found that s.o.b yet.
But all of this came to mind while I was having lunch today with Alpha J, my uber alpha gal pal who has a dear friend, MP. I met MP about the time I came out of the fog surrounding my divorce–and MP was just heading into said murky fog. “Come talk to her Linda. She’s in shock, and I want her to know that she’ll be okay,” Alpha said. While I still wasn’t sure when I’d be okay, I knew I’d survive, and MP needed to hear it from someone who had walked the walk.
The back story is this: MP and her hubby had been married for decades and lived a big socially prominent life in a major city; a building or two even had their surname etched on the facades. Imagine MP’s surprise when she casually opened the cover to hubby’s iPad (when will these idiots ever learn to lock up the electronics??), and began to read email after email (and study photo after photo) of Stormy Danielesque balloon-chested women, five gals in total.
MP and I talked for hours that night at Alpha’s house, shedding a bucket of tears over a cocktail or three–and then she went back to her city and got down to business.
Unlike my railing rant after I discovered invisible’s secret life on his laptop, ol’ MP was a much cooler character and didn’t confront her cheating spouse. She sat on that iPad information for about six months while attending weekly sessions with her psychologist, and box by box and hanger by hanger, slowly emptied the home she shared with the jackass. While he was at the office each day, she moved all of her things into a new condo she’d leased a few miles away. He was so busy pleasing his five big-breasted ladies, he didn’t even notice MP’s closet was looking a little empty until the day she told him she had a new address–and, turning on her heel to walk out the door, that he’d be hearing from her divorce lawyer.
Fast forward to today, when Alpha gave me the latest 411. Ol’ big-breasted lady lover (who, btw, told all the mistresses he was married and that he had a wife named MP, which didn’t seem to concern them) neglected to tell THEM about EACH OTHER; every one of the ladies thought she was the ONLY set of ta-tas in his life (with the exception of MP’s, whose are on the small side, but hey, everything looks small next to the Himalayas!).
The divorce was finalized last year, MP bought a new vacation home in an island paradise, and with a little spare time on her hands, sent her ex’s lady loves a group email. After all, in reading their correspondence with her husband, these gals knew all about MP’s comings and goings, and even knew when she’d been in for a colonoscopy! So she introduced them to one another in cyberspace, assuring them her prize pig of an ex was free and clear for all of them to share. After all, according to an “anniversary” card one of the gals sent to said husband that MP intercepted, their little rendezvous’ had lasted–wait for it–21 YEARS!!
MP never heard a peep out of any of her new pen pals, but Karma came knockin’ soon after that.
MP heard that her ex was in the hospital, so she got back on her laptop and pecked out a note to him, asking this: “I wonder if any of those big-titted broads are holding your hand or making your life easier in any way? It’s quite possible that you have made a bad trade.” Did he finally realize he’d put what MP’s therapist called a sex-based fetish ahead of everything else in his life, including his 30-year marriage to her?
Side note, dear reader, as a voice of experience: A woman who has been her man’s biggest cheerleader for decades, held her own at his corporate dinner parties, held his hand at every family funeral and health setback, and built him up when his boss or the board of directors gave him a kick in the ass, expects the same treatment in return. To feel like a write off on a P & L spreadsheet leaves a hurt so deep, it’s hard to remember those heady, drunk with happiness days of what felt like a loving relationship.
I don’t need a man to validate me, but I expect my husband to validate US, and the commitment we made to each other. And although I’m still waiting for my ex to meet his Karmic bus, when Karma kicked MP’s ex in the ass, it apparently improved his eyesight.
His answer to her question about his five busty broads and whether it was all worth it? “Not one (is by my bedside). Thanks for your sympathy. Yes, a very bad trade.”
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