An Open Letter to His Next Crazy Ex

I’m the psychopathic ex your new dominant has been trying to recover from all year—you know, the one who chewed his poor, vulnerable heart into tiny pieces and then threw the shreds over a cliff before rolling in the blood. The one who made him swear off women for all eternity… until he met you. True love makes the sunset so vivid, doesn’t it?

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You changed everything for him. I know your story because it’s mine, too. You met a month ago and he already wants to marry you. He’s introduced you to his kids. His parents love you, and so do his friends. He’s told you he’s never met a woman as exquisite as you; that you make him a better man. You’re healing all the brokenness I caused.

He’ll say he’s never had sex that intense. Yep, I heard it as well… until I said “no”, because his partners don’t have the right to that.

In the beginning, he’ll impress you with his ability to deal maturely with his mistakes. A man like that has to be a good person, right? The next time it happens, he’ll tell you you’re being paranoid. He’ll scream at you for hours, give you the silent treatment for days, and then he’ll return with a weeping apology. It’s me that made him like that, he’ll say. I hurt him so badly that he finds even the slightest criticism intolerable.

And so you’ll swallow all of your needs in a bid to rid his world of anything that he might construe as reproach. You have enough love to heal him. You will prove that a woman can be better than I was.

I thought I could cure him, too.

The trouble is I did have needs, much as I tried to swallow them. I needed him to honour my right to consent. I needed him not to stand me up on my birthday. I needed him to stop accusing me of cheating. Did he tell you I fucked J or S? Or maybe C?

You believe him now, and that’s okay. I did, too, but there will come a day when you find yourself curled up in a ball feeling as though your insides are rolling through shattered glass. Suddenly, you’ll hate yourself for not trying hard enough to be selfless. He’ll glare at your tears and tell you he was wrong about you. He was wrong about all of us.

On that day, you might contact me just as I contacted his previous ex when I was in your shoes. You and I will talk, just as she and I did, about how you’ve become a psychopathic bitch, just like me, just like her, just like all the women who’ve loved him. It’s us who are broken. He is just a poor, perfect victim.

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