I unfriended and unfollowed my cheating husband on Facebook and Instagram. Apparently, he just found out and sent me this text, “You really unfriended me?”
How should I respond?
You should not respond. Welcome to no contact, Grasshopper.
No contact is a discipline. You’ll get the hang of it. You don’t owe him your attention or a defense for your boundaries.
Apparently he wants some explanation for this abrupt interruption to his kibble supply. What? You don’t want to admire the steak dinner I had with Schmoopie? My shirtless selfies? My artful still-lifes of bike skeletons?
You really unfriended me?
You really cheated on me?
“You really unfriended me?” is the mindfuck set at the self-pity channel. You’re the baddie, unfriending him. It’s classic It’s Not What I Did, It’s Your Reaction To It. Aka DARVO (deny, attack, reverse victim offender).
Because you have a conscience, and don’t want to inflict harm on anyone, especially your partner, you’ll feel shame and second-guess yourself about “hurting” him with your boundaries. Having a heart makes you easier to manipulate. This isn’t an argument against having a heart, I’m just pointing out how it’s easier to mindfuck people who care. It’s okay to protect your heart, and your social media feed.
What he’s hoping for is a pick me dance performance where you apologize. Explain. Defend. Restore the toxic power dynamic of His Kibble Needs Are Very Important, yours not so much.
So, nuh-uh. Don’t do it.
I will permit you, however, to imagine how you would respond.
“You really unfriended me?”
Dear Cheating Husband,
I am confused by your inability to understand this basic function of unfriending. I had assumed you were adept at social media, what with the dozens of pictures of your business trip fuckfests and clandestine Facebook messaging.
While your second cousins, former associates, and Schmoopie may “like” your feed, I choose to unsubscribe.
The cognitive dissonance of who you actually are (a man with male-pattern baldness and even spottier character) and who you present yourself to be (a virile douchebag posing next to a boat he doesn’t own / a family man with child props / a guy who can afford a steak dinner…) is exhausting.
You cheated on me. We are not friends. I’m saving my feed for more worthy content like novelty socks and colostomy bag ads.
Consider yourself untagged from my life.