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UBT: “You Represent Christmastime”

Hi Chump Lady,

If you could run the following email through your UBT, I would GREATLY appreciate it. This is coming from someone who cheated on me with three different women over the course of a year, one of which was a prostitute. He has since been trying to get me back after I broke up with him over a year ago.

Email:

Hi C,

It’s one of those things that’s both obvious and weird, that an adult can’t look back on childhood as a child. It all looks so different from this side. Childhood is a place of haze and echo, where the scale of things — physical locations, stakes, imagined problems — are alien enough that it seems like you’re watching a reel of someone else’s boring life. Things bend from the tow of time. With every remembered footfall, it feels like I’m about to wake up.

I’ve been pondering this because glancing backwards at adulthood just isn’t the same. Your past self is crystallized as the “you” of the eternal present, and it wields guilt like a scalpel. I don’t go a day without remembering you, and it’s usually like going home. In that reflection I see the rough skin of the world shed away, leaving a comfort that’s like Christmastime. I smile when I picture your smile. I feel valuable just be remembering the gentleness that I received, without merit, from you.

The rotten past escapes my head, too. It’s present-soaked, not like the dreamy distance of remembering life as a kid. I did it. It was me. And I worry about how much worse it must be for you to look back on these things. I realize that you represent the same thing that Christmastime did that I looked forward to as a child, a thing of warmth and joy and unconditional love. Everything else is the shuffling succession of days between. You represent what’s true, what all other things in my life point to.

Anyway, I miss you greatly. I love you more than anything else; the disjunction between that fact and my infidelity is like sitting in a harsh light. It’s impossible to think past. I don’t know if I will ever cook up something clever enough to credibly make sense of it. I heard you bought an English basement, in your lovely neighborhood. I bet it’s really great. Everywhere that you’ve ever lived is a place of easy beauty. I wish you the best, and I hope that I’ll be ready to share a life with you someday.

Love,
Idiot

Signed,

C

Dear C,

I was going to admonish you about no contact — Shut that shit down! He shouldn’t be trying to “get you back” for a solid year! — but then you would’ve denied the UBT such a rich vein of bullshit, so… okay. Thanks. But now, go change your phone number and BLOCK him, alright?

Real philosopher douche you have there. I can smell the clove cigarettes.

Let’s crank up the Universal Bullshit Translator…

Hi C,

Insert Name Here. My bullshit is like Mad Libs.

Laura. Katie. Splendid Penguin Costume C

It’s one of those things that’s both obvious and weird,

Like me. I am both an obvious, and weird, manipulator.

that an adult can’t look back on childhood as a child.

Time progresses linearly. If only we had a space portal to other dimensions!

It all looks so different from this side. Childhood is a place of haze and echo, where the scale of things — physical locations, stakes, imagined problems — are alien enough that it seems like you’re watching a reel of someone else’s boring life. Things bend from the tow of time.

I’m not a cheating fuckwit — I’m Carl Sagan.

With every remembered footfall, it feels like I’m about to wake up.

Yes. I said footfall. I was going to write “pitter-pat” but I thought that might be gilding the lily. The crap comes in on little cat’s feet…

My brain is a place of haze and echo.

I’ve been pondering this because glancing backwards at adulthood just isn’t the same. Your past self is crystallized as the “you” of the eternal present, and it wields guilt like a scalpel.

Yeah, I didn’t cheat on you. It was some crystalized past me. I don’t know that guy.

I don’t go a day without remembering you,

I go entire weeks. Months. Lost time with Tinder dates, randos, sex workers — but then time bends again, and I recall, “C’s good kibbles!”

How you doin’? 😉

and it’s usually like going home.

Except for those times you changed the locks. And got a new boyfriend. And your neighbor told me to get the fuck off her lawn.

In that reflection I see the rough skin of the world shed away,

I was a bad person. And then I exfoliated.

leaving a comfort that’s like Christmastime.

I like childhood Christmas. Where everyone gives you presents and you don’t have to give them any presents, because you’re six, and fabulous for Just Being YOU.

Can’t we all go back to that?

#comfortable #4me

I smile when I picture your smile.

I smile when I think of your unknowing smile. How I’ve duped you. Nothing under the tree from me!

I feel valuable just be remembering the gentleness that I received, without merit, from you.

Exactly the way I like it.

I remember that I got something I didn’t earn. I don’t feel bad about that. Or mortified. Or ashamed. I feel nostalgic.

The rotten past escapes my head, too.

Of course it does.

It’s present-soaked, not like the dreamy distance of remembering life as a kid.

Is someone expecting me to adult here? Not. Gonna. Happen.

I did it. It was me.

I did nameless things without description. ME I did the vague thing(s)! Singular. Plural. Whatever.

I am capable of describing footfalls and dreamy Christmases past — but shit I did to you?

“It.”

And I worry about how much worse it must be for you to look back on these things.

Not really.

Like, let’s just call them “things.”

Things I haven’t apologized for. Or described. But — hey! I miss you! Smile!

I realize that you represent the same thing that Christmastime did that I looked forward to as a child, a thing of warmth and joy and unconditional love.

Bring me a hooker, Santa!

And I’m never on the Naughty List because unconditional love. You are warmth and joy, and zero accountability. YOU’RE BETTER THAN SANTA!

Everything else is the shuffling succession of days between.

Pay the hooker. Stiff the hooker…

You represent what’s true, what all other things in my life point to.

You’re an adult. I refuse to be one. Take care of me.

Anyway, I miss you greatly.

Those footfalls! COME BACK!

I love you more than anything else; the disjunction between that fact and my infidelity is like sitting in a harsh light.

Dysfunction disjunction what’s yer function?

I cheated on you. I love you! King’s X.

It’s impossible to think past. I don’t know if I will ever cook up something clever enough to credibly make sense of it.

So please accept this giant bowl of word salad.

Search for the bacon bits… find your own meaning.

I heard you bought an English basement, in your lovely neighborhood. I bet it’s really great.

Can I sleep there? In your lovely neighborhood? You have lovely things. Can I have them? No need to answer now, just open the door.

No? I know where you live!

Is that creepy? Nah, it’s a compliment.

Everywhere that you’ve ever lived is a place of easy beauty. I wish you the best, and I hope that I’ll be ready to share a life with you someday.

Love,
Idiot

Yes, you just wait around for me UNTIL I AM READY to grace you with my presence. To share a life. Unconditionally. That’s X-mas every day. For me.

Let me dress up this violation of your boundaries as YOU pining for ME! I don’t apologize, I fling a few kibble-compliments — and you take me back. But just when I feel “ready.” I hope.

Because the Love That Loves You More Than Anything Else will not commit to you.

Dance, dance!

****

Please walk away from this loser.

Hark! I hear footfalls!

 

Ask Chump Lady

Got a question for the Chump Lady? Or a submission for the Universal Bullshit Translator? Write to me at [email protected]. Read more about submission guidelines.

  • Rob is a wistful wanker, isn’t he?

    “Glancing backwards at adulthood?” BACKWARDS?? Please. Dude never left adolescence behind. #Fourteen4ever. He misses you like he misses Metallica concerts and his mother making his bed.

    And language like “footfalls” and “Christmastime” and “shuffling succession of days” are just adolescent attempts at verbal sprinkles set atop the factual turd of his cheating. As if his hooker habit was fated and foretold by Gandalf the Wizard. Instead of simply Esther Perel. Who is more like Gollum with a Belgian accent and expensive highlights. Which is WAAAAAAAAY scarier. #NoGoldRingForYou

    In a nutshell, ROB is a YOB and a KNOB. So get back to no contact, and finish the JOB.

    • Where is the like button Nomar!

      That disjointed prose sounded deranged. Maybe he thought he was coming across deep and sensitive or something.

    • “Dude never left adolescence behind. #Fourteen4ever. He misses you like he misses Metallica concerts and his mother making his bed.”

      @Nomar, I see you’ve met BoyMan. However, you forgot to add that, whether she makes his bed or not, his mother is still not the boss of him. And neither are you. Or anyone else. So there!

    • I think he’s imagining he’s writing dialogue for a movie in which he stars and gets paid a whole lot more than the female who plays his chump.

  • Never mind the lying and cheating. The letter alone is enough of a reason to enter the witness protection program.

  • I almost spit my coffee out with “The crap comes in on little cat’s feet…”

    And this is so true:
    “I did nameless things without description. ME I did the vague thing(s)! Singular. Plural. Whatever.
    I am capable of describing footfalls and dreamy Christmases past — but shit I did to you?
    ‘It.'”

    That says everything… The UBT is right as usual. 🙂

    • Yes they minimise blowing up your life by calling cheating, lying and abandonment ‘it’. I got a half-arsed apology a year or so out when my ex said I didn’t deserve ‘it’

  • Dudders sticks fingers down throat. What a creep. Good work UBT although I’m not sure it need any translation to realise what a pile of garbage that email was. Unreal aren’t they.

  • OMG…. that was the biggest word salad I have ever read. I didn’t get what word salad was until I read that.

    Run.

    • YOU’RE BETTER THAN SANTA!

      Ha ha ha ha – Chump Lady – you nailed it and you rock!

      Thanks for the great start to my day.

      you’re hair’s on fire – RUN!

    • It was a tough salad to swallow… it’s like dropping sentences while high and simultaneously watching tv/ listening to the radio…
      form without any substance
      ????????????????????

    • Snore…. I fell asleep before UBT turned on. The smell of clove cigarettes woke me up.

      Can you image how many sheets of paper this guy balled up?!

      • I doubt he actually set pen to paper. That’s a WORD doc that took several weeks and lots of ear smoke to write.

  • It seems all cheaters ate the same. They never blame themselves for their lying and cheating, stay away from this loser. All he wants is someone to abuse while he runs around paying for hookers and who knows what else. You owe yourself so much more than a manchild who gets off on cheating and lying to the person they say they love. Do not bring the garbage back in.

  • Poster wrote to say not to use her name.

    So FYI.

    Thanks.

    And to anyone else who sends a letter — it’s clearly written USE A SCREEN NAME. I go with what you send me. I caught this early, but ASSUME the letter will go out as you write it. Thank you.

  • The one bit of slip-up unintentional truth is the part about “cooking up something clever to make sense of it all.”

    It’s called Self-Delusion, and our Fuckwit cheaters are masterful at it.

    • I caught that too! “Yes indeed, I am so clever I just toss about poetic sounding dribble and you just eat it up! That’s a good girl! Now don’t undermine my little ploy to keep you on the hook until I decide I may once again grace you with my presence! Choke on this word salad and I’ll be the hero that punches you in the gut. See?? All better now! Make room for me in your lovely new place while I continue to wax philosophical in order to mesmerize you with my words.” ????

      • Yeah, the mask always slips. I caught that, too.
        Self-serving drivel. Just like the kind my stbx likes to send.

      • Waxing philosophical should at least be interesting and thought provoking. This crap word salad doesn’t even offer that and is incredibly insulting for that reason alone. The guy’s a moron.

      • Omg…. exactly —-now I know what hell looks like!

        You can’t creating something from nothing…. that’s why there is a difference between what philosopher’s say (meaningful message dressed in beautiful words) and what cheater’s say ( word salad )

    • Well spotted @UXWorld! I saw that one too and immediately equated “cooking up” to just more lies, blame-shifting, anything and everything than taking actual 100% responsibility for it all, which obviously is not going to happen

    • Yup, no looking at the uncomfortable truth here! Why did I cheat? Well, I can’t cook up a feasible theory that doesn’t = “I was a selfish dick,” but clearly I cannot be a selfish dick. So what could the answer be??!!! Mysteries like this course in magic rivers throughout the universe.

    • Yes, that stood out to me. They all are busy “cooking up” some BS excuse once they get caught: their previously unmentioned sad childhood; that they didn’t want to hurt the OW who came on to them; that their needs were neglected while you were single-handedly looking after their children, working full-time and doing every household chore; the stress of their demanding job; that you forced them to stray by being too needy, too jealous, too cold, too old, too boring, too fat, too demanding, too loving, too uncaring; that the OW was just a friend who actually understood them; that you expect too much of them; that you didn’t respect them enough; etc, etc. This is the first time I have seen one of these people actually admit they are just making it up as they go along, while we chumps are always agonising over whether we were to blame for not being a better person than we always try to be.

    • Yesss!!! That triggered me up a storm. He’s literally mentioning how accostumed he is to conjuring up truths and meanings, like it’s an everyday business. This stuff is psychotic.

      Poetic/philosoper narcs are really the worst. I was lucky in that my cheater at least didn’t pride himself with big talk. He simply imposed no talk at all, cause ain’t that easier for hiding your Self…

  • The UBT needs some antacid and a long nap! Just Wow. As entertaining as that was to read, I would go ahead and block all avenues of communication from this whackadoodle! I particularly loved the part at the end where he assumes that once he’s “ready” you’ll be hanging around with arms wide open.

    C, “you in danger girl!” (Of getting more word salad) Run!

  • I love you more than anything else in the world…

    0+0=0

    Fix your picker to like a simpler guy. One who has real tools in his work box, and a manly hobby. Those are the men with a simple, I Loce You and sincere apology and will show they care by making you a jewelry box. Cuz this Christmas time guy has the flowery tongue of a Sade Smooth Operator snake. He uses that crap on lots of females. He’s almost like a woman. Does he wear paisley pattern ties too? Would he like a cat for Christmas?

    • Simple guys with real tools in their toolbox and manly hobbies can be horrible cheaters as well (ask me how I know)!!!
      That’s what makes this so damn hard.

      Look at who they ARE not what they have.

      • I agree, you need to look a lot deeper than the surface stuff. STBX is stereotypically manly, what with the sports car, motorcycle racing, speed boat, construction work, and a garage full of tools he actually knows how to use. And when I met him, he owned a cat and a paisley tie. Yet he is a lying cheating POS with anger issues, so the surface characteristics mean very little…

      • Yup! Fine character comes in all kinds of packages, including some straight men who wouldn’t know a hammer from a nail and who prefer crossword puzzles to motocross. And to complicate matters further, some people aren’t cheaters but STILL manage to be terrible partners (jealous, angry, petty, selfish – ask me how I know). There’s no simple formula for anyone to find a wonderful spouse; however, heeding red (even yellow) flags, taking your time and focusing on character over income or physical traits helps improve our odds.

        • My ex sewed me a dress using newspaper-print fabric, made me a cool bat house, carved wooden letters that spelled my daughter’s name for her bedroom, made wooden soft-cheese knives, made a cradle for his first grandson and constantly eschewed what a simple, man-of-the-Earth type guy he was. He also has high-risk HPV and a penchant for ‘teenage lesbian porn ‘ and no real tools in his relationship-mamagrnent toolbox.

      • And they can STILL have a hidden double
        life. If they are good con artists there is no way to see their secrets. We can only see so much beforehand. I probably should put my newly discovered private investigator superpowers to use upon meeting someone rather than after the cheating is discovered.

      • Exactly! I don’t think you can fix your picker by electing a certain “type”. It’s a lot more complicated than that. There are all types of bad ones.

        I used to say my xh was, “A man’s man” kind of guy. For my shock of a lifetime, it turned out that he really is a “man’s man’ as, he cheated with men too!!! I did it mean it literally, geez! Ugh! Lol

        • Reading about others on CN, it’s apparent that fuckwits come in all types = professors, doctors, philosophers, lawyers, construction workers, electricians, factory workers, & on & on.

  • Shut that fucker out. He’s spitting out stream of consciousness nonsense hoping that some of it sticks and throws you off balance. He wants your attention and he wants to be acknowledged. To see if he can. He’s testing the boundary to see if he can get a foot in the door. You have to double down on your boundaries and keep him out. None of what he says means anything, it’s just low level mindfucky noise to get you to notice him so he can start the real manipulation campaign. Go total no contact and block all avenues of his contacting you. He can’t mindfuck you if he can’t access you. I had to change my number and go on an epic blocking campaign to keep my ex out. They don’t respect boundaries so you have to enforce them yourself.

    • Another common narc trait is shown here: every time it feels like he’s almost building up to something nice, he swerves and changes the subject to something more trivial. Like tossing an “anyway”, to wrap up what could pass for a nice sentiment, uncovering the lack of genuinity. It’s brutal how superificial and empty they are.

  • OMG! Talk about word salad. It’s obvious that this
    creep is so into himself. As I was reading the ridiculous message I wanted to vomit!
    Please get rid of this loser! He’s definitely a sociopath.
    Good luck to you ❤️

    • Tracy, you have to keep this one around in CN as the prime example of Word Salad.

      Maybe I shouldn’t say, but it just made me smile then laugh out loud as I read through it all and the wonderful UBT translation (and reminded me yet again from CN, after an annoying lunch-time chat with STBxW who is trying to delay the divorce, that you just need to get away from them; far, far, away)

  • TL;DR: “Remember Christmas as a kid? Where all these awesome things like food, presents, tinsel, relatives, and parties, just showed up without any work on your part – not even awareness of the money, cooking, decorating, hosting, planning, shopping, and cleaning that went into it? That was awesome. I think of you the same way – not really as a person, but as a thing that was really nice to have around.
    You made all this awesome stuff happen for me, while I clapped my hands and stuffed my face like a greedy child, tearing open presents, dumping the wrapping to one side, the present to the other, barely nodding a thank-you to whomever gave it, before grabbing the next one! Yeah, good times.

    I can’t find a way to explain why I cheated on you without admitting I was a douche, so why I cheated must remain a mystery for now. But assuming I do ever manage to come up with that explanation, would you be willing to hear it? See, life’s not as fun without someone else doing all the adulting that makes my perpetual Childhood Christmas possible, and I was thinking that once I get bored of all this sleeping around, it might be nice to have you back to cook, clean, support, and care for me.

    Please continue to be my backup plan. I’ll write you extensive navel-gazing poetry about how my inability for introspection.

    Love, Douche.

  • Took him long enough to get to the point. He wants your lovely home. You are part of the backdrop. Here, put on this costume, clean, cook, pay bills, pander to me and stay out of the way.

    I hope you’ve blocked him and gotten an unlisted phone number.

    • “He wants your lovely home.” Well, duh! It’s a place of “easy beauty.” It takes no effort to decorate or clean it – magic fairies do that! His current place has no magic decoration or cleaning fairies and it is so Not Easy. Not easy sucks! Why can’t he go back to LW – the dishes in her house always did themselves and the decor was always somehow matching.

      • Exactly, Traffic_Spiral! The phrase “easy beauty” made my jaw clench. He utterly dismisses all the effort she puts into her life and that she, no doubt, put into making their marital home lovely. No doubt everything he does is “hard” and “challenging” and “exhausting,” whereas her labor is just natural and “easy.” Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.

  • My ex said he loved me, why cheat then, I think they say it to get you off their backs. I think they think chumps are toys, play with them than leave them.

  • “I hope that I’ll be able to share a life with you someday.”

    But until then -prostitutes. Don’t forget to set out the milk and cookies though just in case!

  • Wtf did I just read? I had a hard time reading this, as my eyes kept rolling back in my head (like a firmly tossed football spinning through the air ????)

    I literally thought “this guy must have a mental illness!”

    LIke CL said, change your number!

  • Oh Lawd! What kind of drugs is on? I want to know, I want some of those!
    Awesome translation because that shit made no sense to me! ????

    • Actually, I would avoid whatever drug that is as it clearly messes with the brain.

    • Honestly, I’d thought the weirdo had eaten some unidentified mushrooms and hadn’t come down yet!☺

  • I’ve said it before — any cheater who truly does understand the devastating reality of his/her betrayal will be so horrified about what s/he has done to the chump that the idea of approaching the chump, even to attempt to apologize, would be too mortifying for words. The person would stay away from the chump on principle because the idea of bringing more pain to the chump’s life by showing up and being a reminder of that cruelty would seem too selfish, the gesture uselessly small and insignificant.

    People who tear your soul apart then have the audacity to beg for forgiveness for the self are extremely immature and self-serving. People who also expect forgiveness on top of all of that are monsters.

    • This is a brilliant comment ami (they all are) but this one resonates with me because it takes a lot to acknowledge harm done to another and then accept that and observe that and change that with no expectations. And then to further go on and learn from that and integrate it into one’s inner self and begin to treat people respectfully. That’s too deep for a cheating narcissist.

      • My Chinese fortune at lunch today said. ” a sincere apology goes a long way.”

    • Talking about expecting forgiveness: at the end, my cheater not only felt entitled to “have me back”, he tried to put his foot down, making vague weird requests, because he had been “the one giving the most in our relationship” and now it was up to me to prove I was worthy or something. While it’s true he contributed more financially (as per clear arrangement between us), he said “on other fronts, too”. So I had to finally thank him for the laughter!!!!!

  • This is about as deep as narcissistic self-reflection goes: “I love you more than anything else; the disjunction between that fact and my infidelity is like sitting in a harsh light.” Never owning their actions because they compartmentalize to avoid feeling guilty.

    No, you didn’t love her more than anything else; you chose others OVER her, at least three times that she knows of.

    It took me years during the marriage, then D-day and five years of recovery to understand that my Ex’s sobbing and tears and poor pitiful me act after his frequent, regular rage meltdowns at me over 16 years, were all about him not wanting to feel like a “bad guy” and not at all about feeling badly for abusing me.

    • He very well may love her more than anything else in his life (other than himself, obviously) but if the most expensive thing in my house is a $5 thrift store chair, that does not make the chair objectively valuable.

    • Wisedup

      “about him not wanting to feel like a “bad guy” and not at all about feeling badly for abusing me.”

      This is brilliant!!!

      I have never thought about it from this perspective… chumps are the best!!!

    • As my therapist friend told me, typical narc will go to therapy (IF he does) because he hits his wife, and not because he’s feeling sorry for her, but because hitting her simply doesn’t match the image he wants to have of himself. Proof is, if there is any way for him to feel better about it that doesn’t imply reparation attempts, he’ll take it!

  • Oh wow!
    I hope I’ll be ready some day? It’s like life just carries him along, he has no idea where. I guess that goes along with being powerless to stop calling up hookers! Oops, I hired one again! Who did that?
    Actually, I truly think this X of yours has a deep mental illness, but it’s too bad that he won’t get any help, because he thinks he’s fine. I hope he stays away from you!
    He had his chance, and he sure blew it.

  • I remember taking classes in grad school with assorted people who sounded just like this, and were generally on like the 15th year of eternally grad studenting.

    Like them, this person should never write.

    ????

  • LOL!

    I wonder what he enjoys more: mentally jerking-off to his own, perceived eloquence or jerking-off inside a prostitute?

    Alas, no shits are to be given. He tarries in his serpentine devotion forthwith… there are more vacuous, solicitous letters to be filled with garrulous professions of love. Another day, another girl, another pang of mooch-lust to satisfy. Armed with a box of tissues and a dictionary, *someone* will bite.

    But it won’t be a member of Chump Nation.

  • I don’t know why exs think they can cheat, then come back, my exs latest girlfriend, was smirking at me, bet he didn’t tell her, consistently he tried to get back with me, I counted them, 40 times and she was smirking at me on Saturday. The crap I used to take from him. I maintain no contact, only contact about kids.

  • My letter to this pretentious creep;

    Dearest Sir Blowsalot,

    I feel your essence. The narcissistic windbaggery is visceral, as though it were a deranged rabbit hopping frenetically across the gorge, which is rapidly rising. The foggy mirror clears, the hazy veil of time lifts, and I am back to Halloween when I was a child, wearing my all time favorite Dracula costume with fake fangs and scaring my little brother. Then I got older and grew real fangs. Want to see them? Come down to my English basement anytime, douchenozzle.

    Love ya!

  • Move over William Shakespeare! This guy wanks to his own words obviously. It’s like google translate translating from English into Romansch and then expecting to win the Booker Prize. Good lord, that crap was funny!

  • This is a poster for gaslighting wrapped up in pretty words. My mind lost the ability to reason out what he was saying after the first few sentences. How do you process this dysfunction with out CL’s guidance?! He’s baiting the line and waiting for a nibble. Ready to reel you in. And the play on the upcoming holidays shows the supreme ability to manipulate. Direct hit on the most vulnerable of times. This a whole new level of crazy.

  • Dear C,
    Run,
    do all the things the experienced Chumps tell you to do.

    This could be YOU!
    Walking along thinking, wonder if it will rain later today?
    Oh dear I just stepped in dog shit, not even gonna try to clean it off , ( takes shoe off and throws it away),
    Naw not worth the effort,
    Now, back to wondering about the weather and what shall I cook for supper, for me, for me alone!
    Something yummy!
    (Just saying)!
    A triumphant HA!

  • It is funny he compares her to Christmas, a time in your life that the illusion of a man (who does not exist) is giving and love that visits your house and brings happiness. When it is most special when the lie is being believed and never the same after the lie is uncovered. (no Santa, no real husband??)

    • And Christmas as a child – where you do nothing but take while the adults work to make everything happen.

  • Like others have pointed and CL stressed, this drivel is nothing more than a ploy to keep the contact channel open and to keep you hopefully waiting in the wings if he ever decided to grace you with his presence. PUKE!!

    Cut that horseshit off!!!!! Go no contact, block his email, social media and phone. That nonsense was all about him and nothing about showing any remorse for his actions or how he hurt you. Good riddance.

  • RUN!! Don’t look back as this is one huge DUMB ASS!! Seriously did he really come up with that pile of shit or did he just copy, paste from some other site. I’m with Dudders I started heaving but couldn’t stop laughing at this asshole. The saddest part is he really believes his own dribble.

  • This? From the “I miss you greatly” (although he might have said “muchly” to be cutesy) to the “pondering” and the “bend from the tow of time” could have been written by the nightmare X before BoyMan. As @cashmere said, there’s a certain flavor of word salad dished up by knuckleheads trying to sound intellectual. C, block him and run!

  • What word salad!

    It’s time to go No Contact, the path to the truth and the light! Go into the light. There is peace in the light.

    If you don’t, you’ll spend the rest of your days pondering ranch, Russian or thousand island dressing?

    The choice is clear. Either you get this loser out of your life or spend the rest of your days sticking up on croutons and bacon bits.

  • I like childhood Christmas. Where everyone gives you presents and you don’t have to give them any presents, because you’re six, and fabulous for Just Being YOU.

    Can’t we all go back to that?

    My Cheater was exactly like this. He always wanted to have a splendid Christmas, and he was always disappointed, and he would talk on and on about how much more magical Christmas seemed when he was a child, and why couldn’t we do that? He kept pressuring me to reproduce his exact childhood Christmas, including the kind of Christmas lights he had as a child and so on. He complained about how much it robbed his joy to have to buy a tree, put up decorations, buy presents…

    I finally pointed out to him that of course Christmas was more thrilling when he was a kid–because all he did was wake up Christmas morning to find the house decorated and presents under the tree. Adult Christmas is quite a lot of work and quite a lot of money if you want to do it up big. Or you can do something small and cheaper. But you can’t have a big, beautiful Christmas with lots of presents and decorations unless you are willing to shop, decorate, wrap, bake, spend, and clean up.

    It’s weird to have to tell a grown man that.

    • Assholio was the same way. Once we had kids, he got depressed and mopey around Christmas because he was no longer the center of attention. God forbid he would even attempt to make it special for them; that was all up to me.

      • My ex hated Christmas too because it was so much work. The kids referred him to Scrooge and he went around saying Bah Humbug.

      • I was worried about Christmas this year as it will be the first since he left.

        Then I remembered how I do everything, except the house lights, which are simple and I always help him with. Which I can now do easily myself.

  • Dear Thesaurus Boy,
    I writhe like the woman burning with her books in Fahrenheit 451. I have grown so much, even I can smell the anus this bullshit came from.
    Thank God & CL for nurturing immunity to your drivel.
    Sincerely,
    You’re Forever Blocked & I’ve Totally Moved On

  • It was a dark and stormy night. Wait. Wrong thing. How do I love thee? I gotta have another puff of this stuff I am smoking. Thoughts are just rambling through my mind. Ok. Fixed. Dear C. Uh,

    Was this English? I recognize all the words, but sentences?

    • Let go, me too! I started to question Dementia on my part, I recognize the words but none of this made sense! LOL! Now where did I leave my car keys?

  • What a load of crap ….. who in their right mind would be attracted to that??? Probably most of those lines are plagiarized, we all know how cheaters lie about EVERYTHING.

    My take is he is simply needing somewhere to live, besides his mind. Gawd to be stuck in that mind!

  • Yikes, this puts regular word salad to shame. Obviously, his goal is to confuse and camouflage, never to clarify! Open mouth = Pedantic Drivel.

    If he had the slightest inkling of morality, sincerity and humility, and truly wanted this woman back, he could’ve done what adults do… they communicate in clear and concise terms, such as:

    “I was wrong.”
    “I’m sorry for (fill in offense).”
    “I’m ashamed of what I’ve done.”
    “I’ve put you through hell.”
    “I’ve disrespected you.”
    “What can I do to earn your trust?”
    “This will never happen again.”
    “I’m in counseling because I need help.”

    Oops, I almost forgot that smug, disordered, immature, abusive, self-absorbed cheaters aren’t like the rest of us. Never mind…

    P.S. This lady needs to find out which of her “friends” ratted out her address to him, and block them!

    • It may not have been a public announcement. When property exchanges hands, it’s often listed in the newspaper. He may have seen it.

      But I’m willing to bet he’s stalking her in some manner.

  • I love the UBT! I couldn’t even begin to wade through all the word salad- I got stuck counting all the “I’s” and “me’s” embedded. Whenever I read the cheater letters to CL, the only thing I think is they are delusional, and there is no “there” there. If a dick could talk, this is what they would say.

  • Run like your hair is on fire. This was all dealt with back at the beginning of this blog, with The Unified Theory of Cake – Chump Nation’s equivalent of the Book of Genesis.

    https://www.chumplady.com/2012/04/the-unified-theory-of-cake/

    In fact, there are a series of core posts which are really our Talmud, our Pentateuch, our Book of the Law. This is probably The Book of Exodus:

    https://www.chumplady.com/2013/07/real-remorse-or-genuine-imitation-naugahyde-remorse/

  • He’s right about one thing- he is obvious and weird all right.

    Don’t let this moron destroy this or any Christmas. Ever.

  • Wow. “Things bend from the tow of time.”
    What is it about these people and melodramatic self-centered reflection e-mails? They think everything they’ve done is some special, world-changing event worthy of study in a college English class. They seem to have some standard template to write this “Eat, Pray, Love” glop. And in all of them, you, the chump, are thanked for being a cog in their great wheel of self-discovery. It’s a shame you got hurt, but hey, you did help me reach a new level of consciousness about myself. Isn’t that all worth it?

  • The best way to help this man-child grow up is for him to face the consequences of his actions/behavior: no more cake, no easy-beauty-home, no Santa for him. No contact from you, the pain of divorce.

    Maybe, someday, he WILL grow up, though I have serious doubts. He will probably just find another chump to mother him while he goes off in pursuit of a hypotenuse.

    And you can enjoy the beauty of your English basement without the agony of being the marriage police to an adolescent in adult clothing.

  • Hey, C! Is he a drummer?

    Q. What do you call a drummer without a girlfriend?
    A. Homeless.

  • Gosh, this reminds me of something. Oh, I know. It’s when I was in my early 20s and wrote a letter to an ailing Laurence Olivier about how much I admired him. But instead of saying that I would have liked to have been old enough to have seen him on stage, I described our age difference as “Chance’s hand in the particulars of our nativity.”

    Yep. Folded it, slapped a stamp on it and mailed it right off.

    At the time I was so in love with that line — and so badly wanted to impress that Shakespearean actor — that I refused to take it out of the letter, even when others gently suggested that maybe I rethink it.

    C, your ex could not possibly love anything or anyone more than he loves his self-perceived gloriousness with words. It’s obvious how hugely impressed he is with himself about it. I guarantee he thinks his extraordinary gift with language (barf) holds some kind of magic. And maybe it does. He’s probably had good luck with it as a tool for manipulating women.

    But not you, honey. Keep his hand out of your particulars and enjoy that lovely English basement.

  • Oh, for the love of coal and switches, I’ve only read the first paragraph of the letter and had to stop to breath some fresh air. What a self-absorbed, deluded windbag.

  • Aaaaand I just finished reading Idiot’s master(batory) work. That letter was the equivalent of taking a huge dump and then spraying so much Glade air freshener to mask the scent that innocent breathing bystanders cough and choke.

    I know it defies the rules of NC, but a proper response to that mess could be something simple and to the point:

    “Dear Idiot,

    Don’t prepare yourself to share a life with me someday. Go away. Go back to sitting in your harsh light. Leave me alone.

    C (is NOT for Christmas)”

  • Yikes, someone should administer a sound beating to this guy. Might have to fight through the Petulie oil fumes, take off his beret, and make sure he does not try to belt you with his man purse , though.

    • Beret! Man purse! ROTFL!!

      And “petulie”? Pretty nifty misspelling, intentional or not. It’s like a cross between “patchouli” (which was spot on, by the way, like CL’s reference to clove cigarettes) and “petulant”, which is what Idiot is likely to be if he doesn’t get to move into that nice English basement…

      • Yeah, I could not figure out the spelling ,so just went with a best guess.
        I know I have said this before re the word salad, but, as others have noted, these types seem particularly well represented in the cheater world.
        I am sure it is related to thinking they are more evolved, which also manifests itself with their claims that “it is complicated’, (which translates to ‘you and the peasantry like you, cannot begin to fathom what it is like to be so gifted and more highly evolved are not entitled to more than one partner. But, I am as I am so complex etc.” )
        Seriously, this type of writing is very common with these NPD’s. And, they seem to draw a following of weak minded admirers who really believe they are all that and worship them.
        My XW was great at this.

        • Funnily enough reading this today first made me laugh and then made me think of some of the frankly ludicrous self-aggrandising thing my ex said and although I knew they were proposeteroua you have to see sometimes an equivalence to understand it. So many stupid statements but when you truly think you are on a higher plane. I was accusing him of having harboured some pretty serious resentments over 14 plus years of now the end suddenly everything it seemed had been wrong ‘for years’ and he said something like. I don’t harbour resentments it’s just that I feel things very deeply, the highs and the lows, MY life is very expereriental. What a dickhead. The poetry he wrote to her was age 14 angst standard at best and all my mates have had a good laugh at it. A man child, let’s hope she is otter vacuous to buy into all this. At least I can say he was never like that we me or I would have fled to the hills but then again, I didn’t nourish his soul apparently.

        • Arnold

          You nailed it! The superiority is a big factor of the whole “ complexity” narrative…
          Oh, it’s complicated, you won’t understand, it’s not black and white…

          In reality it is very simple: in order to appreciate and live by certain values and moral standards, person has to have ability, willingness, and restrain to do so.
          Chumps know that instinctively, we live by our moral codes;

          So nope, the whole idea of a grey space is just a bs for them to hide in. Time to stop arguing with stupid

  • I had a narc coworker who was capable of this caliber of word salad. He had some people convinced he was brilliant because they could never understand what he was saying. They thought he was talking over their heads.

    My narkysense went off with full on sirens and flashing lights when I met him. I became his archenemy when I started interpreting his windbag diatribes for people. If there was a germ of information, I could sum up in one sentence what would take him 15 minutes to say. Mostly I was just telling people he was full of bullshit.

  • “I feel valuable just be remembering the gentleness that I received, without merit, from you.”

    That, right there, is what a kibble does. It makes narcissistic, disordered cheater-types feel valuable because of what you give them, without merit, or even the expectation of reciprocity.

    “I don’t know if I will ever cook up something clever enough to credibly make sense of it.”
    Here’s he’s telling you that he lies. He doesn’t understand something. He “cooks up something clever” to “credibly makes sense” of what he does. Cooks stuff up = lies.

    “I love you more than anything else; the disjunction between that fact and my infidelity is like sitting in a harsh light.”
    This might be a truth but not in the way you think. This is not a declaration of love for you. It’s very important not to project what you mean by “love” onto him. He may love you more than anything else, because he doesn’t love anything else, either, in the way that normal people mean the word. And he sees there is a disjunction between his capacity for love and his infidelity and that’s like “sitting in a harsh light” that he would prefer to escape.

    Please go no contact with this disordered jackass. This letter is all “I… I…. I….I….I.” When he talks about you, it’s to say how you make him feel. That’s not love. That’s narcissistic thinking.

    What are you getting out of this continued contact? It isn’t love. It isn’t respect or fidelity. It isn’t happiness. It isn’t companionship. The world is full of people and most of them are not total jackasses. NO CONTACT. That means–put his email address into spam. Block him on phone, text, social media. BLOCK. HIM. And start working on why you chose him in the first place.

  • His brain is a ‘place of haze and echo’. (But then, empty things usually do echo…)

  • C,

    As said above, don’t reply, don’t answer, break contact.

    That said, if you were to write back, here’s what you should say:

    Yes, your infidelity makes no sense to me either. But what I do know is that you did it, and I can’t trust you to not do it again. I don’t see you as being part of my life in the future, in any way, shape, or form.

    However, hopefully you can learn from your lapse in judgement, and try to be a better person. There may be another woman out there, one who hasn’t been betrayed by you, one that you could love the way you claimed you loved me; hopefully you would be smart enough, and exhibit enough self control, to not hurt her the way you hurt me.

    And what you wouldn’t write at the end, because it would become a self fulfilling prophecy:

    But I think that’s nearly impossible. It’s far more likely that this is who you are, someone who loves in the moment and does not commit to the long term well being of another person, or have any ability to put someone else’s happiness on an even footing with their own happiness (let alone ahead of theirs). I suspect you will end up in a series of short term relationships that are turbulent and mostly devoid of deep connections. I’m sorry this is to be your lot, but I don’t see how to help you, and I’m not interested in being part of it.

    Hugs. Strength. Peace.
    aeronaut

    • Your prophecy is spot-on for my X. After being married for 18 years, I doubt he marries again but he might get into a long-term relationship if it suits his needs. But once, the value is used up, she will be gone.

  • Bizarre and possibly in a weird manic phase?

    I was utterly lost and got bored just trying to figure out what the heck this dude was saying.

  • Ooo, this one was so in need of translation I literally couldn’t read his note on its own — I HAD to have it translated. Oh! I how I long and fantasize of a time when he, lonely and blanched at his escritoire, reads this translation on his personal computer.

    On another note, these UBTs are always so healing. Laughing at these people really helps you take your power back.

  • You had me at Carl Sagan.
    You had me at Carl Sagan.

    Ok really. What a preposterous presumptive ass. Mindblowing.

    It was a good read but good god, the icky gooey ooze of the inflated marshmallow gooper.

    Sweetheart two words – No contact.
    Zero contact puts this freak on his ass in the past where he belongs.

  • Cheaters are ridiculous people. The behaviour is so embarrassing. It makes me cringe to think that this guy was able to convince three women to have an affair with him in the first place, let alone that he would think that someone would automatically want him back. I feel nauseous.

  • The UBT Is a wonder. “Dysfunction disjunction what’s yer function?”.
    Almost ruined my tablet when I spit out my coffee.

    Totally in aweat the humor all of you possess.

    Thank you all!

  • I’m kind of late to the party, but I want to send my condolences to C for all the time she spent over the years trying to figure out exactly what Idiot was saying. Life must have been hell for her every single day just in trying to figure out what the heck he was talking about.

    I too was married to a man who butchered the English language in his attempt to sound more learned. By the time he was ready to submit an academic paper for publication, the thesis was buried under so much tortured English that his intent was almost completely incomprehensible. (Almost reminded me of the undergrad papers I used to write in a second language… gobbeldygook composed with the aid of a dictionary.)

    C, thank your lucky stars that you are rid of this Idiot.

  • “You represent Christmas.”

    “So do you. The Christmas where Hans Gruber drops off Nakatomi Plaza.”

  • “and I hope that I’ll be ready to share a life with you someday.”

    I’m a fuckwit who thinks I still have a chance in hell of “sharing a life” with you.

  • Also:
    Christmas is approaching, and I don’t have anyone to spend it with.
    You did a real nice job on Christmas…decorating, baking cookies and buying and wrapping presents. Since I don’t have anyone that will do that now for me, I will let you do it. But after that, who knows.

  • Chumplady and UBT , I applaud your intestinal fortitude. I started reading this shit and quit two lines in. WTH is is on about? I don’t even want to translate it to know. It’s like translating runes or hierglyphics. And the worst part is that they think they make sense!
    I just could not.

    • It’s the whole, “Look! I just took a creative writing class! Can you tell?” vibe.

  • In my UBT this entire letter boils down to:

    I’ll be home for Christmas
    If only in my dreams

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