I'm not a religious guy, I don't do the fate thing... but I have to believe that there is a reason for everything in this world and that most of these things I encounter are tests to strengthen me as a person.
Situation:
It has been a year and a half since I've seen my exwife. Praise Allah. The she-devil lives 500 miles away; I have the best barrier available in distance. Zero communication. We don't talk. We don't email. We don't have any interaction with each other online in any fashion - period. I've done a good job of completely ignoring her psycho ass despite the occasional odd desire to torture myself with shit I can't change (emo-whine blah blah). This complete blackout has helped the healing process immensely, as may or may not be apparent given how much I had invested in her physically, emotionally, and especially financially. Mouth-fertilizing various college girls hasn't hurt, either.
Weakness:
She knows where I live, however, because I gave her my new apartment address in case any legal issues came up regarding shit that I didn't deal with because of universal excuse #1 aka
"I-was-in-the-fucking desert-where-the-hell-were-you?" Address, yeah, I figured it would be a wise idea given how she "forgot" about various bills while I was sucking sand in A-stan and I came home to a minor collection agency nightmare regarding stuff that happened in our apartment before she moved into our house. So I put some industrial strength Prep H on my a-hole and told her she can always send snail mail if something crazy happens and it somehow involves my money / credit / name, but that was it. I specifically told her that we're not friends, not buddies, not strangers. We are black holes, we are fossils.
WTF Issue:
June 14th 2006 was the last time I saw her. I got a package in the mail from her today. No return address, but I felt the curved Sharpie writing on the front was familiar... like maybe I'd seen it in a really bad movie or a suicide note or something tragic.
The package contained blank stationery with a big *LETTER* on it in weird hippie script. She sent me fucking stationery... a measly 20 envelopes with my last initial on them along with a note:
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Psycho Hose Beast
"Hello. I thought you might need these. I won't be needing them. The odds of me ever getting married to another guy with the same last initial as you are statistically tiny. Hope you're doing well. (first name and girly smiley face)"
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...
Now, after my temper tantrum that involved words that would make George Carlin's sack shrivel... I started to breathe again and questions formed:
1: Why didn't she just throw away the 20 cents worth of mediocre stationery?
2: Why did she spend multiple dollars to mail the stationery out to me?
3: Why did she wait over a year to mail me stationery with "our" name on it?
4: Men don't use stationery. Maybe she thinks I'm homosexual despite all the illegal-in-48-states reamings I dispensed for two years?
5: Why do I think she just wanted to try to piss me off / open communication?
I'm banking on #5, myself. Passive aggressive bonkers crap. She thinks despite infidelity and and pretty much destroying my self concept of life that we can be friends. I don't play that shit. I refuse to cater to her insanity.
...
The bitter part of me feels like I should mail the crappy stationery back along with a cheap kitchen knife and the attached note:
"Thanks but I don't need the cheap stationery. Here's the knife you put in my back. Don't worry, I washed it."
A little too drama queen for me, really. I don't wanna pull a (insert name you all know here).
...
I will do nothing, of course. Zero response means zero encouragement. The package went immediately into the trash during my man-tantrum. My cat was not harmed during said outburst, but he was immensely amused at what I was doing with my pants at the time.
[so]If this happens again... I might need to involve lawyers or something.[/so]