You were a dick to me. For the duration of our relationship, you were relentlessly critical and judgmental. Do you remember telling me it was gross how I ate hummus? Or that the food I was making smelled disgusting? Or yelling at me about my digestive problems? Or telling me that my driving made you nauseous? Or, in fact, being so critical of my driving every single time we were in the car together that when Lisa visited she was compelled to ask how I could possibly put up with it?
You were a dick to me. You had serious anger management issues. How many holes did you punch in the walls? I know you broke at least one remote control. Do you remember how angry you’d get over Scrabble? So much so that I simply stopped playing that game with you? Do you remember painting the doorway to the guest bathroom and then becoming enraged when Diego used it as a scratching post? You forgot, apparently, that he’s a cat and that doorway had been his scratching post forever. You grabbed him and forced his face into the wall and yelled at him. I attempted to intervene but you pushed me away. And do you remember when the sleeve of your hoodie caught fire on the campstove in Yellowstone? You flung spaghettios all over the campsite. I was so upset, I went to the lodge and ate a shit ton of French fries and alcohol because I didn’t know how to handle you.
You were a dick to me. You drained our joint savings account to pay off shared debt without even talking to me about it. When I told you that I was willing to go to marriage counseling if you found us a marriage counselor, the next thing I heard from you was about dividing our belongings. I felt so guilty I left with nothing. I gave you a fucking house. That’s a on me, but it doesn’t make you any less of a dick.
You were a dick to me. What was with the obsessive privacy? Why did you insist on having separate accounts on the desktop computer and never giving each other access? What was the big deal? Why did you insist on clearing the entire hard-drive before I took the desktop with me? Why, when I asked you about your sexual fantasies, did you become angry and refuse to discuss them with me? News flash: I was your wife, jackass. That’s the kind of conversation couples have.
Our relationship was not an emotionally safe space for me. And no wonder physical intimacy suffered- you can’t have physical intimacy without emotional intimacy.
Unfortunately, I was too habituated to being treated poorly when our marriage ended to convey this to you. In fact, I did not recognize just how much of a dick you were to me until I put some time between us, entered into a relationship with someone who truly loves and respects me, and came to know what it means to be treated with love, respect, consideration and kindness. I would sincerely like to tell you to your face: YOU WERE A GINORMOUS FUCKING DICK TO ME. Maybe someday I’ll have the opportunity.
I should probably write that I wish you only good things. Much love and success in life etc etc etc. Except, I don’t really care. You did me wrong, asshole. My hope for you is that you change.