Today is Election Day and Mr. CL is off at an ungodly hour to go cast his ballot. (I already voted using a handy drop box.) I hope you all get out there today and VOTE, if you haven’t already. My neighbor has been stress baking and leaving us pumpkin bread, cookies, and scones. Which I’ve put in the UBT strategic reserve for sugary carbs. Anywho, I’m taking the morning off, and am rerunning one of the more favorite columns here, where an OW wrote to me expecting chump compassion…. and it didn’t end well.
Dear Chump Lady,
I am probably the biggest chump of all, but here goes… I was married for 21 years and had an affair (the only one) with a married man I work with, who had been married for 17 years.
He said I’m number 8 for him. He told me about all of them — even about sleeping with his wife’s best friend (who also happens to be his best friend’s wife and neighbor). My naiveté made me believe that it was a one time thing. He told me it went on for 15 years! I can’t even begin to wrap my head around that, but I am still with him.
He also told me he went to a strip club when he was away for work for a month and picked up a stripper — also that she stayed with him the entire time he was there. We both divorced our spouses and are living together, but as you can probably guess it’s not good. I obviously don’t trust him and a lot of times can’t stop thinking about his past. It makes me want to vomit. I am terrified he will cheat on me — he said he won’t of course. AM I THE BIGGEST CHUMP OF ALL?
No. You’re not a chump at all. You’re the victor in the fuckwit Thunderdome. You’ve beat out the competition and won the sparkly turd, DB. No tag backs. He’s all yours.
If Chump Nation wonders why I run these OW letters (which invariably devolve into troll fests) consider them a public service announcement — this is what winning the Pick Me Dance looks like.
The obvious but nauseating realization that you’re not special? Check.
Twitchy, mind-bending hypervigilance? Check.
Living together (presumably between strippers), clinging to the facade of your shitty relationship, to prove that annihilating two families was worth it? Check.
DB, I’m sorry. You competed for this Dreamboat with the full knowledge of who he is. Regretting your decision doesn’t make you a chump.
Perhaps you think being a chump means making stupid relationship decisions. Or having the kind of piss poor self-esteem that allows a person to tolerate fuckwits. Let’s be clear on the concept. Chumps are UNKNOWING. They are duped, lied to, humiliated, used, conspired against, conned. You are none of those things. You knew exactly what you were getting — a cheater. You’re a cheater. He’s a cheater. You aren’t us. Chumps are acted UPON, they are not the actors. Chumps do not consent to be chumps. You, on the other hand, signed up for this shit.
Ergo — you are not the victim here. You’re Number 8. One idiot in a long line of idiots.
So now you’re terrified that he’ll do to you what you were complicit in doing to another? And you want MY sympathy? Who the fuck do you think you are?
Look, I’m an actual chump, so part of me feels bad ripping you to shreds for reaching out to me. You has a sadz and maybe I can help. But then I bitchslap myself, because post-infidelity Tracy has zero tolerance for your kind of malignant entitlement.
Entitlement? Yeah, the kind of chutzpah that writes “I had an affair (the only one)…” You want a bitch cookie? Tell it to the guy who lost 21 years of his life to a cheater (YOU). You’re scared shitless that Mr. Wonderful MIGHT do to you what you actually DID to your ex-husband. Meditate on that.
Or how about the entitlement that led you to fuck a married co-worker? Did you consider his chump wife? Let me guess — she didn’t Sufficiently Appreciate Him. Compelled him to fuck those strippers and her best friend, huh? She must’ve deserved it. Unlike YOU there Sparkletwat. Best of luck with all your super specialness. Hope it serves as a magic barrier against STDs.
DB, it takes some gobsmacking gall to come on a support site for chumps when you’re the OW. I’m sorry that merely thinking of being betrayed makes you “want to vomit.” (Actually betraying chumps, however, must be just tickety boo.) How hard it is to be you.
I’d hate for your visit to Chump Nation to be for naught, as you wanted advice and all, so here’s some:
Regular pap smears.