Let me begin by saying my boyfriend is quite a bit older than I am—20 years to be exact. Nbd. He was married for 13 years, has several children, ages 17, 20 and 22. They’re fine. Whatever. His Ex wife is now a lesbian and basically thinks that she is Saint LesboJesus. She has never been my biggest fan (it’s been 3 years), mostly because I’m so much younger and hotter than she is. I’m fine with it. It probably sucks to be fat and awful.
This weekend she felt the need to send him some shitty text messages bashing me, calling me his “little girlfriend”, saying that I’m “jealous” (bitch, please, of who??), and that I’m pulling him away from his kids and that he’s not happy (now you get to decide who’s happy??). *Ahem* I fought every instinct I had to message her myself and give her a piece of my mind. Because I’m a fucking lady. And not a bitter, old ex-wife. I held it together.
My question is how do I handle this particular situation and this BSCB in the future? Asking my Pro to defend my honor feels very medieval, but going after her myself makes ME look crazy. Which I’m not, obvi.
Dear Brooke Taylor Windham,
Gotta be honest, I can’t blame the ex-wife for not being your biggest fan… her ex-husband dating someone who’s probably closer in age to her kids than to the man she’s dating? The whole thing is just so terribly cliché. But I mean, this really isn’t a *you* problem. It’s a boyfriend problem. Him dealing with his ex-wife is not “defending your honor”; it’s him sticking up for his girlfriend. It’s on him.
However, you are not doing yourself any favors, either, what with your vague homophobia (“Saint LesboJesus”) and overt insults (“I’m so much younger and hotter than she is”; “It probably sucks to be fat and awful”). This is the mother of his children, so he needs to stick up for her too—he can’t let you openly bash his ex-wife, especially not in front of their kids. So you also need to play nice with the ex if you want your relationship to last.
And then finally, please send my condolences to this dude who’s caught in the middle between a rock and two crazy bitches. Actually, I take it back, I don’t feel bad for him—this is exactly what one would expect to happen when you decide to become a walking mid-life crisis stereotype.
I Didn’t Mean To Shoot Him, I Thought It Was You Walking Through The Door,