Without a doubt, this has been one of the most miserable and difficult weeks of my adult life. Now I know what it’s like to have my heart broken (the Surgeon broke it a little bit, back in the day, but nothing like this. I have to hand it to him: he’s a crazy, abusive asshole, but he never mislead me about that. I knew exactly what he was at the start.).
At least this means that I have a heart to break. It still hurts like hell. The pain and disappointment have been excruciating. The emotional instability, the rollercoaster, the tears, the insomnia. I was so messed up for the first few days that I couldn’t even take care of myself. I couldn’t work or write. I didn’t clean. I just sat in my apartment staring into space. I cried so much.
Then I came back to life enough to wonder, “Just who IS this person? If he lied to me about being married, what else did he lie to me about?”
I wanted to know who he really was…just to get closure for myself.
I went to look for him online…and couldn’t find him.
Because he lied about his last name.
(I suppose that one could argue that I should have google-stalked him from the get-go. If we’d met in a normal setting, I would have. But he was a client, and I don’t invade client’s privacy, because: 1) it’s unprofessional and inappropriate and 2) I don’t really care about their lives.)
When I couldn’t find him, an awful black flower of rage bloomed in my chest. It was like a second betrayal. I was furious. Then I felt helpless and demoralized and pathetic. Taken advantage of.
A sucker. An idiot. A stupid, gullible fool. I had been so open and trusting with him.
I already have trust issues, and I’m not used to letting people in. I really felt violated when I learned that the one time I let my guard done, I was burned.
I decided that I would find him.
I was successful.
I will not disclose how I found him, because I think that he’s reading this, and I don’t want him to know and learn from his mistakes so that he can protect himself in the future.
But I can say that I used my resources, and a friend helped me out. Boy, did they ever. They really went to bat for me. They were the greatest single source of emotional support and caring I had during that time, and I cannot express the depth of my gratitude and appreciation for all the time, hard work, and sympathy they devoted to me.
You know who you are…and I am now, and ever after, at your disposal.
My friend found him and delivered him to me.
And boy oh boy, what a find!
Oh, the giddy joy of getting some of my power back!
The Mathematician is lucky that I had a few people telling me to cool it until my emotions calmed down and not to do anything brash.
Because I was ready to nuke him.
You know how heat can turn sand into glass? That was the temperature of my fury.
I wanted him glassed.
For the first time in my life, I was having truly dark revenge fantasies. I’m not talking about run-of-the-mill stuff, like thinking that I would like to run over my old Dean with my car if I ever had the opportunity and knew I could get away with it. I mean black fantasies. Seriously considering, in my mind, exactly how I could cause him the most harm, the most regret, the most humiliation and loss. The thoughts were intrusive and they deprived me of sleep. It was shocking to me that I could be thinking these things, because my personality is not like that at all. I never schemed to hurt a person like this before (even though, frankly, a few people in my life have deserved it). It was not a fun experience. I know that might be confusing and difficult for some readers to understand, given that I’m a professional SADIST, but really, I never have cruel intentions (I can fake it if you want me to, though. Ha, ha).
If you’re reading this, Mathematician, I want you to know that the fury you caused me to bear was something that I could have lived without…and that this corruption of my soul is on your shoulders.
So I waited for a few days while I decided what to do with him.
Quite a few people told me that I ought to shake him down. Take some money. I know blackmail is illegal, but in this situation, I was pretty sure that I could get away with it. You say you’re proud of my intellectualism…? Well, I was mostly a scholarship kid, but I do have a little student loan debt, and it ain’t paying itself! If you’re so proud of it, maybe you ought to help fund it!
My personality and established values system is incongruent with those decisions. I just don’t think that I could be okay with myself if I did that to someone. Even if he’s a rich asshole who deserves it…and, frankly, owes me SOMETHING for all this grief and pain and lost work. What’s the legal term for it? Pain and suffering?
In the end, though, I decided not to do it because I am still pure of heart, and if I did something that I felt was against my moral values–like blackmailing him–I wouldn’t be so pure of heart anymore. He’s not worth that. He is not worth compromising my integrity and self-respect.
There was another reason I decided not to blackmail him or just get on Ye Olde Facebook and nuke his life: I didn’t want him to hate me and carry a vendetta. The Surgeon and I run in completely different social circles and work in completely unrelated fields. The Mathematician…it’s possible, in five or ten or fifteen years, that we might know some of the same people. Who knows what the future holds? I don’t want him dripping poison into my career or my personal relationships down the line. He’s rich and well-connected, and he has compromising information about me. He could make my life very ugly. Rich people have lawyers.
….Furthermore, I have no idea how dangerous he is. I’ve never talked to his family or seen the way that he is in his home–he could be a domineering control freak, a tyrant, a total psycho! What do I know..?
I decided, in the end, that I needed to protect myself from him. Now and in the future.
Let him know that he dodged a bullet with me. Barely.
But I still hold the gun.
And that, my friends, is exactly what I did.