Stamped: July 13th, 2006 | Toggle Similar
Tagged: around town, complaint dept., rant.

Alright, alright, I’m back. Thanks to Meme, I was all but tracked down by bounty hunters and dragged back to civilization. After two weeks of no cell phone, practically no email, and copious amounts of vino, I was just about to go off grid forever. You wouldn’t recognize me, really. I’m so relaxed you’d be hard pressed to find a pulse. Needless to say I’m not looking forward to being back. As much as I love you bitches, all work and no play makes Lo a dull girl indeed.

But I digress. When I was visiting the homeland (or was that the farm land?) these last two weeks I was reminded of a syndrome that never fails to bring a smile to my face. In fact, there are few more poignant moments in life than witnessing Asshole’s Remorse. Ladies (and gents), it’s happened to us all. The sad state of affairs when you are so blinded by love (lust), optimism (delusion) and youthful exuberance (stupidity) that you fall prey to “The Asshole”. He could have been a high school crush, he could have been that dreamy guitar playing hippy in college, or he could have been your slimy but oh-so-hot-boss, but nonetheless, everyone has gotten their heart tromped on by someone who a) doesn’t deserve you by any stretch of the imagination, b) probably won’t do any better than you but is completely deluded or c) is just plain evil.

At the time of said heartbreak you harbor many homicidal thoughts as well as some serious revenge fantasies. Most fantasies involve the aforementioned evil-one holed up in an attic somewhere many years later, alone and regretful and losing their hair. Suddenly they go out for the paper and spot you with your brood of immaculate children looking like a down to earth Heidi Klum and blissfully laughing with your independently wealthy husband. You look a little tired but that’s only because you’ve been doing a book tour for the last two months and your publisher was only able to book you at four star hotels (the agony) and you just can’t sleep without a pillow-top mattress. Regardless, former Asshole is suddenly consumed by remorse for his low-life actions and utter stupidity at ever letting you go, he clutches his heart dramatically and falls to the ground dying of a regret induced coronary. Tragic, really.

So while this particular fantasy may be a leeetle far-fetched (not for me-I do look like Heidi, but maybe for you) there are bona fide cases of Asshole’s Remorse. After you’ve passed the decade mark (ahhhhhh!) of your dating history, you are more and more likely to run into an Ex who is decidedly less fabulous than you and the great part is that it’s written all over his face. Anyone who has cheated, lied, or otherwise wronged you romantically and runs into you five years later just to realize what a fuck up they were, is a human study in karma.

After having high-tailed it out of small town America as soon as humanly possible, I haven’t seen many of my Ex’s for years. Due to everyone’s favorite excuse to get drunk and annoyed (a wedding reception) I had the good fortune of running into not one but TWO exes. Both of whom had dumped me rather unceremoniously for their ex-girlfriends in less than noble ways (liar, liar, pants on fire). Even at the tender age of 16 I was wise for my years and it didn’t take me long to realize that they were, in the venerable words of my father, “a pack of losers”. So considering how little they’ve crossed my mind in the last five years or so I was pretty shocked to run into them. I should feel bad for them right? Looking at me with Bambi eyes and telling me to “give them a call” despite the fact that I live 3000 miles away, all the while saddled with children and mortgages and unfulfilling jobs. While the "charm" may have worked on my naive former self, it's more than a little pathetic that you're using the same tired lines circa 1997. The drooling was touching and I definitely enjoyed the conversation about your car, but I think I'm over it. I was admittedly amused, and then a little guilty at parading around in my cutest outfit with my no-children-yet-thank-you-very-much body, weaving tales of big city intrigue and generally charming the room. I mean, that’s a little cruel right?

Hmmmmm. No. Sorry. You were an asshole. You cheated, lied and tore my little teenage heart to shreds. I don’t care enough to be vengeful or do anything other than be myself but if you’re going to lay out your regret and stupidity for all the world to see, I’m going to revel in it a little bit. Cut the shit or pay the price, maybe now you won’t cheat on your homely little wife because you see what kind of karmic brutality THAT invites. See, sometimes revenge fantasies do come true - albeit, delayed to the point where it's no longer quite as satisfying. Ah well.

Last 5 posts by Lo

• Hello, God? It's me, Fashion Mullet. - March 30th, 2007
• To Slut or Not to Slut, That is the Question... - October 26th, 2006
• Sidle on Up to the Booty Bar - October 20th, 2006
• Slacker Central - October 12th, 2006
• Lo's Weekly Rant: I Call Bullshit. - October 5th, 2006