But I just have to gloat.
I have somewhat recently engaged in a mind-numbingly immature blog war on meatspace. You may recall the whole “porch people” debacle. Speaking of being the bigger person…I was not. But that’s not what I’m gloating about. You can totally stop reading this now if you haven’t already, because I’m sure nobody cares. I just have to express my glee at the resolution, over which I had no control. Almost makes me believe in karma.
In a nutshell, one of my very best friends in the whole world has one of the craziest psycho exes on record. He put her in financial and emotional peril, cyberstalked her, plastered incredibly personal details all over myspace, and even engaged in physical violence with her current boyfriend. Nobody ‘wins’ a fistfight, but the ex was certainly more bruised and bloodied than the current. The really sick thing about the whole situation is that he also has a new girlfriend. She doesn’t seem to mind at all that her boyfriend is totally consumed with his ex-girlfriend. It boggles the mind, but…whatever.
His new girlfriend is pregnant. He took it upon himself to assume they were having a girl so that he could steal the rather original baby name that my friend had picked out and set her heart on since age 14 or so. She of course shared this with him while they were together, thinking optimistically that their problems would work themselves out and that they’d have kids together. Now, of course there is no law governing the possession or use of names for hypothetical children. But given that she has loved this name since adolescence, well before she met him, it was really an asshole thing for him to do. He was just trying to hurt her even more than he already had, and he almost succeeded.
But guess what. It’s a boy. I’ve been saving a cigar for just such an occasion.
I don’t know if it’s incredibly childish or fiercely loyal of me to hate that guy so much, but I really do. It started out with me just defending my friend and poking some fun at him and his friends, but at one point he actually stooped to making fun of my skin coloring. At that point something in my psyche reverted to the age when I last tolerated such ignorance, probably about second or third grade. The gloves came off and I decided that in dealing with him, there was no point in reserving a sense of respectful argument. I totally stooped to his level, but I think my friend would do the same for me if the shoe had been on the other foot. Of that part, I am proud.