Just Say No To The ‘Pick Me’ Dance
Ladies and/or gentlemen, should you ever find yourselves as a veritable ‘dump-ee’—suddenly thrown to the curb by an affairing and/or departing spouse, learn by my mistake. Never lower yourself to grovel—not even once! Please, please, PLEASE[!] learn from my idiocy and do not fall into this trap.
In other words, don’t make me have to come to your house and slap the stupid out of you. Honey, I burned through enough stupid for all of us put together.
It still pains me to realize that I let the anguish and heartbreak of my husband’s ghosting get the best of me. As a a result—I acted like a pitiful chump. I was ‘stooopid!’ [Boston accent]. I foolishly thought that if I just somehow continued showing Mr. Runaway Cheater Pants my unconditional love … or if I somehow was able to demonstrate my undying love and affection to him … then the clouds would part and angels would sing.
Yeah, Well … A Sucker’s Born Every Day
Further, I honestly believed that my demonstration of my undying commitment to him would miraculously resurrect the good that I was convinced was buried somewhere deep within him. Ya know … like that old story line where good triumphs over evil in the end. Or the story where the lovely couple rides off into the sunset to live happily ever after.
Um excuse me. You do know that I can hear y’all laughing, don’t you?
Aw, go ahead; I son’t mind. It’s okay—laugh as much as you want. Entertainment is a good thing—it releases much needed endorphins. You need to get them wherever you can find them. As a matter of fact, I too am slapping my knee and guffawing at the hilarity of it all—right along with you. Oh my, how silly I was! I hoped against hope that Dear Departed would see the error of his ways and suddenly snap back to his senses, proving that Love conquers all, right? Nope! Only in silly Hollywood rom-coms.
Which Shall It Be? Compazine or Zofran?
Glory be! My face glows like a beacon at sea whenever I look back on how I did that humiliating ‘pick-me!” dance. Not only did I dance backward, but I rounded out the tragic comedy by throwing in all those tearful pleadings, blubberings, and my now-nauseating confessions of my undying loved for him … Something you should NEVER! … EVER! … EVER! do … if you’ve been kicked to the curb!
Warning: You may need to place your emesis buckets firmly on your lap, and wrap your arms around them as I continue. I have a feeling that y’all just might need them before this post is over. Okay. Everybody ready? Well, here’s just how stupid I acted out there on the ‘Pick Me!’ dance floor:
- Like the idiot I was, I assured him that I had faith in him. [Queasy feeling beginning.]
- Like the idiot I was, I assured him that I believed he was a good person. [Stomach contents churning and rumbling.]
- Like the idiot I was, I told him that I felt that he’d simply ‘lost his way’. [Forehead breaking out into a cold sweat. Mouth doing that tell-tale/right-before-you-vomit watering thing.]
- Lastly, like the idiot I was, I told him that he simply must’ve flirted around too long with temptation and in a moment of human weakness, his carnal desires had taken him over. [We have launch. Violent projectile vomiting in process!]
Apology: My sincere apologies to those of you who may have been leaning forward or who happened to be staring a little too closely at your device screens. Don’t worry, it will wash off. *** You might want to grab some Febreze so as not to be wafting Eau-De-Emesis for the rest of the day.*** Sorry.
Connecting The Dots That Were Never There
At the end of the day, it comes down to this ladies and gents: People see what they want to see. I know that I did! In my case, my false hopes were partially based on the fact that my husband had been very religious for quite a few years prior to his ‘fall from grace’ and little ‘indescretion’ … That is, if you define ‘religiousness’ by how many times a person warms the pews at church.
Mr. Cheater Pants and I both attended church three times a week [for decades] before all of this happened. But like they say … ‘Going to church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than going to McDonald makes you a hamburger.’ Please know that I’m not throwing stones. I’m just sayin’. Cause this applies to me, as well.
Too Many Hits From The Hopium Tank
I literally hyperventilated every time I got even close to looking at the reality that was staring me in the face. And the more I hyperventilated, the more snugly I tightened the mask over my nose and mouth and inhaled deeper and deeper from the Hopium tank that I kept beside my bed and guarded with my life. I refused to let anyone rain on my parade.
I now know that faith and hope are two very different things. Thinking I had faith, I stubbornly hoped, against hope, that the love of my life had simply experienced a huge lapse of judgment. Hey, I said stop laughing y’all!
And because I wanted it so very badly, I deluded myself into thinking that what we were going through was nothing more than a trial predestinated before the foundation of the world, sent to test our faith, and meant to build character in both of us. I know, right? … pitifully grasping at straws.
Not A Laughing Matter
When I expressed this to Mr. Cheater Pants The Runaway, his response was to laugh right in my face and say:
“Yeah, and you’re stupid! I am NOT a good person! Someday you’re going to find this out, and when you do—you’ll end up hating me. You’re going to wake up one day. You’re going to find out that I am NOT that good person that you want so desperately me to be.”
Adding A Little Emphasis
To underscore the intensity of what he’d just told me—and to dramatically drive the point home—he then picked up The Bible and a transcribed sermon book. He furrowed his brow—and with a half-way-sad and half-way-angry countenance—slammed them down on the floor. That was the last time I saw him.
Right On The Money
Well, he was right … I did wake up … I did figure it out. When you find you’re always dancing backwards, and the tune never changes, you might want to take a second look at who you’ve been dancing with.
Take heart though. Sometimes—when you’re stupid like I was—it takes dancing with the Devil for a while to finally wise up.
The bottom line here is that no how many times your misguided emotions try to influence you into doing the ‘pick me’ dance, don’t. You don’t want to keep someone whose already made the decision to betray you and walk away. Take it from me, nothing good can come of sacrificing your dignity.
Nah … I say let the one(s) doing the departing be the one to go to the dance. Nope. You should simply step out of the way. Don’t impede the process of them changing partners. Recognize that it is what is is. And it was what is was. No more. No less. Shrug.
Besides, it’s a statistical fact that—more often than not—someone who callously abandons a spouse has a high probability of changing partners again in the future.
Hide and watch. This might get interesting.
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