What follows is a fictionalized, satirical interpretation of a very real three-page apology letter John wrote me during our second separation. Right after we moved back to my hometown. It was long, dramatic, and handwritten, complete with tear-stained phrases like "betrayal" and "I'll pay for your vacation so you can think about what you did." This version is exaggerated... barely.
"An Apology Shaped Like a Blame Game: A Tragedy in 3 Acts by the Self-Appointed Martyr™"
Starring: John as the Noble Victim. Featuring: You, Lola, as the Unreasonable One With Boundaries™.
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ACT I: THE STAGE IS SET (a.k.a. "You hurt my feelings by not reading my mind")
Dear Lola,
I wanted to tell you this in person, but alas, I'm far too emotionally unavailable and full of martyrdom, so I chose dramatic handwriting instead.
Last night I was deeply wounded. I was attacked. Not physically, of course, but emotionally, by the mere act of you... not immediately jumping to my defense while I made a scene in front of your entire family.
You promised to defend me (I think, probably, maybe?), and instead you stood there like someone who was uncomfortable with public conflict and lifelong manipulation. Betrayal. Treason. Honestly, how dare you not verbally eviscerate your relatives on my behalf?
I'm not saying I was wrong, but I brought up something intense in a public setting and you didn't fight everyone for me. I'm also unsure what I said, but let's pretend it was noble.
✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧
ACT II: PLEASE FEEL BAD FOR ME (even though this is still your fault)
I put you in a position where you had to choose between me and your entire family. I'm not sorry for doing that. I'm just sorry you didn't choose me fast enough.
Your family may hate me now, and honestly, that's really inconvenient for me. Do they not understand how hard it is being misunderstood while I'm the one doing all the harm?
Let me be clear: I DO NOT want a divorce. I want to stay married to you while emotionally manipulating you forever. Out of love. ❤️
I love you so much that I'm going to use big scary words like "failure," "betrayed," "alone," and "helpless" to describe how you made me feel by... not doing exactly what I wanted. Again, in public. Without warning.
✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧
ACT III: MY EXIT, BUT WITH VICTIM SPARKLES
I can't be the man you need me to be. Not because I'm incapable, but because your family exists.
They're the real problem.
Not my actions.
Not my constant emotional sabotage.
Just… them.
So I've decided to heroically walk away for now. Not because I'm wrong, but because you're too blind to see my righteousness.
Here's the plan:
I will pay for your vacation (because I am magnanimous),
I will step away like a tragic hero,
And I will continue to say things like "don't give up on us" while refusing to own a single decision.
Also, I'm still your husband. Even if you have a restraining order. Even if I live with some where else. Even if I call you every name under the sun during our arguments. Love is patient. Love is me.
✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧✧༚⋆༚✧
EPILOGUE: I AM SAD. Therefore, I win.
I'll be calling the kids at exactly 7:30 PM each night because I'm still a great father even if I traumatized them.
I'll be working on myself. Which means writing more dramatic letters like this one, where I apologize vaguely while blaming you and painting myself as the tragic protagonist in a biblical drama of my own making.
Please remember, Lola:
You are loved.
You are strong. Because I made you that way.
But more importantly, I am hurt.
So I win.
With conditional love and maximum delusion,
John
Keeper of the Blame Torch