Dear Ex-Husband – I Hope Kenora Harbourfest was Worth It

Dear Ex-Husband,

Right now, I’m too upset to speak.

Because you hurt me. Not physically, but emotionally. Again.

We agreed to a no-contact weekend. A free-for-all for you, I guess.

But, silly me. I called Saturday. August long weekend. I asked you, “Any plans for this weekend?”

You replied, “Not sure.”

Meanwhile, two tickets for Kenora Harbourfest were burning in your pocket. Which you received on Friday.

Disclaimer: I did not want to go to Kenora Harbourfest with my ex. Please keep reading. 

You and I spoke for an hour and a half that Saturday. Not one mention of the tickets. An hour and a half! Do you see the issue?

From the start of our separation, I’ve been completely honest with you. Too honest, according to my parents. I’ve confessed I still have feelings for an ex-boyfriend. That I don’t want to reconcile with you. That I popped on Plenty of Fish for a week – then I swam away. Tons of personal stuff.

Saturday, we talked about Plenty of Fish. Remember? During that hour and a half conversation? You said when you first learned I joined – though I’d already left at that point – that “It hurt because I knew you weren’t coming back. But I want you to be happy.

How sweet. Yes. That’s sarcasm.

Oh, and during that conversation, you asked, “What looks better on me? Crew necks or V-necks.” I said, “V-necks.” You said you bought a black V-neck t-shirt that day, and you weren’t sure. And you wanted to ask me. Ah, but more on this later.  

Sunday morning? I had an issue – a real one – and I called you. No answer. Whenever you don’t answer, you usually shoot a text or call back within five minutes. But my gut clenched. I knew you were with someone else.

Fast forward to Monday. What was your thought process when you sent a text message? As I read your words, I was on the deck with my mom. When she saw my face fall, she asked, “Tammy, what’s wrong.” I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.

… By now I’m sure you know where I was yesterday and with who … ” and make a comment about Facebook? WTF?

So, I checked out Facebook. And there was my ex. With a girl from your former workplace. Both appearing to have an awesome time. At a Buckcherry and Three Days Grace concert. You were wearing the V-neck t-shirt I advised you on. Not even washed. Gross.

At Kenora Harbourfest.

My reply to your 8 kB text? “Did you sleep with her?” Of course, you said no. I asked again, and you said no. And really I don’t care at this point.

Since you’re the master of keeping secrets, you probably thought, “Tammy doesn’t need to know.” Then, fawk. You bumped into one of my friends. Leaving you with no choice “ … before it was all over Facebook.” Your exact words.

Yes, because I could totally see that girl’s videos and photos going viral because they were so epic. Plus, none of my friends are FB friends with her.

But a text? Seriously?

The decent thing would’ve been to call. Or say, “Going to Harbourfest. You?” during that hour and a half conversation.

Yes, it would’ve hurt. But when you lie and do cloak and dagger crap, it hurts more. If you remember, that was the downfall of our marriage.
Plus, you were in Kenora, Murray. Where we went on our honeymoon. Remember?

Did you think twice about driving out there with another girl? And her son. Spending the night in Kenora. With her – and allegedly her son – and sharing a hotel room? Oh, but you slept on a cot. Allegedly. How noble.

Did you notice when we spoke on Monday night, I didn’t ask where you stayed? Because it hurt enough knowing you stayed overnight in Kenora. With another girl.

Every anniversary, you and I made plans to visit Kenora. But something would come up. Finances. Time. Too tired. Then, the second we separate, someone offers you two tickets. Tells you people from your current company allegedly will be there. You nix any friends who have families – but you ask a girl who has four kids. Slow clap, because last I checked, that’s a family.

And, why not. I mean, you’ve been talking to her for a few months. News I learned Monday in your confessional text. I hope your soul feels lighter.

Yes, we both need to move on. And we agreed we’d tell the other when we found someone else. You said you wanted me to meet your new person. I guess because I met this girl before at a work function you thought, “Scratch that off the list.”

Or maybe you two are just friends. For real. That’s what both of you are telling me. Frankly, I don’t care, and that’s besides the point.

And she gave you an easy out, Murray.

You admitted Tuesday afternoon that, yes, you could’ve asked her to hold off posting the photos and video to Facebook. But wait! With those photos and videos up, you had the narrative for your 8 kB text message.

It doesn’t matter if you went to Kenora Harbourfest with a girl, guy or a 500lb hairy squid. If I’m asking what’s up for the weekend, don’t lie. And don’t tell me later, “By golly, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

The only thing you accomplished was unstumping my writer’s block.

All I wanted was honesty. I wanted integrity. I never wanted to be deceived. I didn’t think that was a tall order.

Next time, pick out your own damn shirt.

Advertisements