BOOM Y’ALL!!!!!
That pretty much is an understatement for the explosive 4th of July disaster I experienced in 2012. This tale that I am about to tell you is 100% entirely true, although you are surely to doubt my word and opinion as the author. You CANNOT make this patriotic circus freak show sh*t up!! Many of my readers are divorced and will be forced to deal with the same complications in this Chapter Two world. If you are dealing with a nightmare Ex, you are not alone. In my opinion, it’s important to address how NOT to behave. Hold on to your panties and sit back for the roller coaster ride into this fiery inferno that I experienced.
Hot Tub Time Machine back to July 4, 2012. As the 4th of July was approaching, Hottie Scottie and I made our blended family holiday plan. We had 7 of our 8 kids in tow and decided on spending it at Scott’s house in Rhode Island. His buddy invited all of us to his annual 4th of July bash. Of course, nothing for us goes easily, and we were tiptoeing around a huge powder keg. At the time, he and a certain ex were still sharing the family home post-divorce; which you can surmise was chock full of super fun complications. From this moment on, this certain ex will be known as My Terrorist.
SIDEBAR: I realize all exes come in all types of forms. You can choose Path A: to have a civil, cooperative relationship with your ex fueled with respect, maturity, and appropriate boundaries or Path B: be a toxic, selfish, and hostile ex whose new mission in life is to destroy their ex and ANYONE he may get romantically involved with. They are masters at parental alienation and use their children to do their bidding, like flying monkeys. These Path B women can be recognized by the following:
Ladies, when given the two paths ALWAYS choose Path A, and just get on with your life and maintain your self-respect. He is NOT your husband anymore so stop acting like his wife. This just makes you look desperate and sad, not remotely EXTRA. My Terrorist, as her nickname indicates, has chosen Path B, she is a MINUS. She has despised me from hello, simply because I exist and has punished me for 10 years for loving her ex. #EXTRAdelusional. Lucky me, I’ve drawn the short straw yet again.
My Terrorist had agreed to leave their house for her weekend off and was not invited to the neighbor’s party. We arrive at the party on a beautiful Summer evening with all the best intentions of having a great time. About an hour in, the fireworks began. Hottie Scottie started receiving texts from two of his children, alerting him that My Terrorist was indeed still in the family home, and had been spying on us at the party through her window. She had been watching me, the 4.0 version of herself, fraternizing with Scott’s friends and family. You see narcissists are jealous of everybody over anything. Most seem to believe that everyone else has everything they don’t and they are extremely envious and resentful of that. It reminds them how inadequate they are and their circumstances are. For pathologically narcissistic people, jealousy often means “to destroy”. And sabotage she did!! The kids were reporting that My Terrorist was having a tantrum and cleverly victimizing herself to them. “Mom is crying…now we’re crying because she’s so upset”…..blah, blah, blah. Please tell me that no one is buying this? Not so, Scott rushes down to put out the fire. In his fear of parental alienation, he begins to drink the proverbial Kool-Aid. His zombie-like trance takes over and blames me for upsetting all of them because I should have allowed My Terrorist to hang out with us for the holiday. #Nof**kingway.
I grabbed my kids and our stuff then the four of us girls took the next train out of crazy town. We walked up the hill to the neighbor’s house, all of us visually upset from this ridiculous experience. One of the female guests at the party, whom I did not know, was an exceptionally large woman. She was about six feet tall and could have bench pressed a cow. Upon hearing what happened, she decided to avenge these crying females and took matters into her own hands. We dried our eyes, took deep breaths, and watched the gorgeous fireworks over the Bay.
Here is where it gets GOOD. Just as the fireworks ended, this female Avenger, came out of the shadows from Scott’s driveway. She was carrying a fire poker. Obviously, there was an adequate amount of vodka involved somewhere. She proudly confessed that she had smashed all of the windows in Hottie Scottie’s car and, to add insult to injury, carved “Liar”, “Pussy” and “Douche” on the outside. EXTRAcharming. Nobody heard the smashing in either household due to the exploding fireworks. To make this EVEN worse, my one set of car keys had slipped out of Scott’s shorts pocket and lay somewhere in the vast front yard. We were unable to escape the scene of the crime until the morning light, so we crashed at the neighbor’s house. I could not communicate with Scott either as my cell phone was locked in my car.
I didn’t sleep a wink and I sat on the edge of the window watching Scott’s front door. I knew he had to be up early to take his kids to camp, work, etc. How could he NOT think that I did this car mutilation? How could he believe that some feminist female Thor took up my cause and did this vandalism? I watched with bated breath as Scott emerged from his front door. Upon seeing the decimated car, he melted to his knees in disbelief. The moan of despair could be heard throughout the neighborhood. After a 360 car damage inspection, he slunk into his daughter’s car for the morning drop-offs.
I had my kids furiously searching for my car keys in the lawn, so we could mercilessly leave this forsaken hell hole. In the meantime, from the neighbor’s house, we see a police car pulling to Scott’s house. We see Scott and his two kids pile out. They quickly descend into the house. Five minutes later, we witness My Terrorist marching up the hill, like Sherman burning Atlanta, straight up to where we were sitting. She barrels through the door, without a knock, right up into my grill with her fist ready to punch my face. I’m from Fairfield County, CT so we solve problems verbally there. No, not My Terrorist. She threatened to knock me out Orange Is the New Black Style right in front of 10 small children. My Terrorist, thinking that I am the perpetrator here, continues to threaten me and I respond by saying, “Bring it, I can’t wait to call the police and have you arrested for assault. It’s what I live for.” Scott’s buddy, the man of the house, quickly alleviates the tension and asks My Terrorist to leave. Before she does, she feels the need to give me some clarity by saying, “I nursed all of my children on that chair you are sitting on.” Ok mental patient, whatevs. Super EWWW. When you come down to my normal universe, give me a call. Thank God she leaves on her broomstick, my daughter finds my car keys, and we are OUT OF THERE like a bat out of hell.
Scott had to have a tow truck come to his house to pick up the deceased rent- a -car. Yes, a rent- a -car. His car was in the shop. As it was towed back to Enterprise, every single employee came out to view the car. The employees, with their mouths on the floor, began to applaud. They had never seen a car like this in their entire work experience. Scott had declined the insurance. He had to pay the $5K to fix the car. Karma is expensive. To this day, I am sure the picture of this infamous car is up on their Wall of Fame.
The following day, Scott had committed to a family fishing trip. Of course, his best friend, the neighbor, and host of the trip had informed his brothers-in-law of the freak 4th of July holiday nightmare. When Scott arrived on the boat, his brother-in-law said in jest, “Sooooo, Scott, how was your 4th?”
