Reach Outs & Tap Backs

Welcome back Faithfuls. I hope you took a minute to reflect where we left off last week.  If you missed any part of the story, I suggest starting here before going forward.

For weeks following the reveal of the cannabis juice empire and an undying appetite for “inner acting” with other women, My Past diligently dialed, texted, and left voicemails. The greater majority I ignored. Truth be told the reach outs and tap backs were just more of the same…how he felt and wondering if I read, heard, or saw the prior messages. Outside of feeling overwhelmed by his seesawing emoticons I also felt deep rooted betrayal. How could you show your entire ass for years, neglect my needs, ignore my pain, toss in some random heauxs for good measure, run off while I cared for my sick mom, and have the audacity to no more than a week after picking up your 5 contractor bags and a funky ass leather sectional leave a message declaring your everlasting love? While it makes no sense to me to ask to leave and stay simultaneously these roller coaster emotional highs and lows were part of My Past’s normal way of being. LSTS asked me if he emoted this much before covid and I said yes, he’s a moody bitch that tells good jokes, so normally I laugh it off and wonder if he cries later by himself.  In hindsight that joke, while horribly inappropriate, was my attempt to compartmentalize The Anti-Husband’s emotional peaks and valleys.

For as much as My Past is new age toxic (someone hugged too much and too little), he’s also a person suffering from inner demons, the panorama, idle hands, internalization of mounting racial tensions, and the overuse of substances. While 202o may have been our relationship tipping point, it broke My Past. I’m sure in ways he’s yet to fully comprehend. Don’t get me wrong he’s KING toxic. He’d send a YouTube video of Song Cry then text me to ask if he still had health insurance. I replied, yes (did that inner acting catch up with him) as long as he had his card…the one he told me he destroyed. Maybe he lied about cutting up joint cards, it would explain why he’s still using my bank account to pay for his audiobook’s subscription, but I digress. My Past exists in the realm of new level toxicity with a splash of pride-less wonder. Because we’re in the trust tree, I’ll give you an example of the tomfuckery dancing across my iPhone at every other day clips through the end of September. Here’s one from the 21^st of August that he sent via text and email…you know just in case I missed it.  

“Idk if u blocked me or not but I sent this the other day and wanted to make sure u got it. I hope ur well.

I know I hurt u. I know u probably hate me, and that’s deserved. But I also know there’s no way that 8 yrs of love gets deleted in a week’s time. I miss u I love u, and I want to remain married to u.

Words mean nothin, behavior is the true example. I will show u, bcuz I don’t want to lose u. I meant everything I said in my vows and I kno u did too.

I’m not goin to interrupt ur life or embarrass u by standing outside ur house and lettin the neighbors know what’s goin on.

But I can’t let u go. I love u, and you mean too much to me. I also kno that u love me and we’re better together.”

Short answer, I disagree. This lovely message came with a picture of the two of us sharing a kiss at our wedding. The one I planned and the night before he’d left me standing in toilet water. At that same wedding, he got so wasted he dropped a whole plate of food Mrs. Grumpy Gardener (my brother’s wife) set aside for me when she noticed I hadn’t eaten…I never ate that day…not even the cake. Memories of my wedding open unhealed wounds. It remains painful to know I married a man who’d lose a smooth million if asked to pick out my bridal entrance song. But he said he loves me, Faithfuls. His form of love must operate in opposites because loving someone means showing up. I can’t repeat it enough, men take care of what they love…hell at least walking a dog so I didn’t have to do it at midnight might have suggested he liked me…a little.

Maybe I expected too much. I expected the person who I opened my entire heart to…to love me. I was foolish to believe his words and ignore his actions. Buried beneath my sarcasm, often crowded out by my nonchalance is just a girl who wants to be loved by a boy. And he knew that. It hurts more to get burned by someone who knows your story and promises to never use it against you. Betrayal is a cocktail best served cold. I give him credit; he knows how to play victim and ingratiate the fixer in me with a sob story. Far too often and for far too long I allowed my fixer spirit to see the best in him, to believe his words of effort when all he gave was his ass to kiss. Sometime in September I answered one of his calls. He kept asking if divorce was what I wanted. I gave him a mouthful. I spoke a truth I never let part my lips during the relationship, that through the course of our together I watched him not show up for anyone in his circle and stupidly thought he’d never turn that energy on me. Eggs on my face. I asked him a single question, one he has yet to answer, why should I be with him? In the midst of the pregnant pause that followed, I exhaled and said goodbye.

If any of you are wondering what My Past showed me, you know because the email implies, he actually had some sort of plan to win me back…I’m still waiting too. Honestly hopping on the cannabis wave, on its face, is not a bad idea. The problem is My Past. Anything that requires effort or resembles work, and a tutorial can’t be found on YouTube, miss him. At all turns he runs toward the out-and-out wrong decision. If I’m being honest, dating and ultimately marrying me was one of them. Not because I’m an inadequate partner, quite the opposite, the time The Anti-Husband took up space in my life he wasn’t capable of real love and had no intention of putting in the work necessary to make it thrive, he needed a sponsor of the AA variety but for life. It therefore was wrong not just for him but for me…the result is wasted time, hurt feelings, and a bunch of personal regret (on my side). Even his crawl back is lazy.

To date besides his random reach outs and tap backs that are filled with pictures from our past, messages telling me he just wanted to hear my voice, music videos, Instagram likes, and requests to talk with no follow up…I’ve seen nothing. Not that my position would change. I think I’ve been clear, the bridge was what I needed to give myself permission to let him go. And for clarity, I actively stopped loving and went through the torture of divorcing our spirits well before he told me he wanted to become the Nino Brown of Sugared Beverages. He missed all my signs subtle and overt that his style of love was killing me, or he saw them and didn’t care. Jury’s still undecided.

But what says you Faithfuls, has your most toxic ex done reach outs and tap backs in the hopes of changing your mind? Have you entertained them? I know My Past just wants interaction not to be back in my life. He wants the rhythm but none of the blues. Speak on it in the comments let us know some of the ways your ex has tried to catapult back into your lifespace.  Know there’s more where this came from so stay tuned for the next installment. Speak on it in the comments, in the meantime, and between time, please share, like, comment, and subscribe…isn’t that what we do on this here interweb.

Remember to share is to care and hashish.