Revenge...okay, maybe not so much.

So I promised I'd follow up on this, and for once, I'm not totally full of shit.

The back story is this: I was in a thoroughly fucked up relationship with an even more thoroughly fucked up (okay, sociopathic) person for a year. I got with the program ended it almost a year ago, after months of absolute misery. He cheated, he lied, he lied about cheating, he did everything he could to convince me I was crazy for thinking he'd EVER do such a thing, etc. and so forth. Familiar story. Thing is, even though all the signs were there and I knew in my heart that something was going on, I never had any proof.

Never, that is, until two weeks ago, when an unwitting stranger admitted that she had in fact been sleeping with The Douche (as he is commonly called) for at least two months before we split up.

Despite the fact that I despise the little weasel and have no desire to ever be in so much as the same ZIP code with him again, that hurt. It took me a long time to recover from that situation to any real degree, and the solid knowledge that he had taken another woman (or women...) into our bed dragged me back a bit. It solidified my own stupidity along with his deception and disrespect...overall, a solid, well-aimed kick in the teeth.

And, or course, it made me angry. Extremely angry. And worse yet...there was no way to really vent it. Speaking to him is out of the question. I'd rather scoop out my own knee with something rusty than ever have to hear his whiny, wheedling little voice again. So all this impotent, burning, well-justified rage, and nowhere to put it.

But then something occurred to me. The Douche, irresponsible, unconscionable fuck that he is, has been involved in something quite illegal for the past five years. And by "quite illegal," I mean "spend a year in the federal pen getting assrammed by a member of the Aryan Brotherhood" type stuff. One phone call to the right set of authorities, and he's on his way to a size ten poopshoot. And I was ready to make that call, let me tell you.

I decided, however, not to take vengeful action while I was still so consumed with fury. I'm not a vindictive person by nature. I believe in karma, I really do. But dammit, my ex is a shitty human being, and I wanted to hurt him for what he put me through. The initial feelers I put out to friends on whether or not I should send him up the river returned mixed results. My friends all hate The Douche's guts, of course, but they were also worried about whether it would do me any real good to fuck him over so severely. Even my shrink said that she thought he deserved whatever he got, but wanted me think carefully before delivering it to him.

So that's what the initial post was about. I thought that the insights of friends and strangers might help tilt the balance of my thoughts one way or the other. I received quite a few comments and emails, and even this fairly horrifying post by the ever-adorable Sangroncito...thanks to all y'all for that.

After all that reading and some simmer-down time, I've decided not to make the call. For now.** I have to keep believing that the little scumbag will get what's coming to him in this life. If I lose that belief, that'll be one more thing I've allowed him to take from me. It's been a hard year, and I've made too much of a comeback to permit that. Let him go on thinking he can live like he does...the universe will take care of him.

I just hope that when that happens, the universe sees fit to send me a nice little letter containing every lurid detail of his misery. (And of course I'll post it here for you to read as soon as I receive it.)

**Any more evidence of his infidelities, etc. surfaces ever, EVER again, and I'll take it to mean that karma has a job for me to do. Enough said.