A “Nice Guy” Writes A Creepy, Creepy Letter To An Ex July 29, 2010Posted by Skippy in General Weirdness, Observations.
Tags: massive fail, trainwrecks
A dear friend of mine’s father is known to say, “I don’t think I would have told that to anybody” when someone ventures into TMI-land. On occasion, I’ve thought that when someone is going on about something they did that was utterly stupid. With the exception of MySpace and, less frequently these days, Facebook, I’ve rarely thought that.
And then I read Andrew Cohen’s “letter” to his ex…on her wedding day. The first word that pops into my head is “creepy.” And then I think, ” I don’t think I would have told that to anybody, much less publish it for all the world to see.” And then mock. And then I think, “What a douche!” Amanda Hess of the Washington City Paper has already deconstructed this tour-de-crap, but I must add my .05 cents (what? I’m that special, y’all).
The great love of my life marries today and I am not the groom. I had my chance, a few years ago, but did not realize until too late how fleeting my moment with her was meant to be. Whether it was my fault or hers, and, let’s face it, it was probably mine, I will wonder always about the life I might have had with the most loving and loveable woman I have ever known. Sometimes, I finally now understand, love, even crazy love, is not enough. Sometimes, as the romance novelists know, timing is everything.
Dude. Dude! Dude, if she was, indeed, the “great love of your life,” don’t you think you’d be the one walking down the aisle with her? Since you half-heartedly admit that you fucked it up, now’s a little late to be whining about “the great love of your life.” Seriously, when you start off sounding like a whining douche, it doesn’t inspire confidence in the reader that he or she isn’t about to take a trip into the crazytown that is your mind.
But today is not a day for remorse. It is not a day for lost causes. Today is a day for celebration. The woman I once promised to keep happy is happy. She tells me she is marrying a wonderful man, with a good heart, whom she believes I would have liked had we met in different circumstances. She lives where she wants to live. She has selected her life’s path. All that is left for me to do is to wish her well and to hope that she has made the right choice; that she continues to find in him what she did not find in me. And I am sure he considers himself today the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.
Well, since she’s not marrying you, I’d say she did make the right choice. And if all that’s left for you to do is wish her well, then why the hell does this self indulgent tripe go on for ten more paragraphs?
The present I humbly send her today is this column; this public note, this irrevocable display of affection and support and gratitude; this worldly absolution from any guilt or sadness she felt between the time she said no to me and the time she said yes to him. No one ought to have to carry that with them into a marriage. I showered her with as much love as I could muster when we were together. I still love her and always will. So I am only too happy to offer my toast to her now, one more time, before she takes her vows.
Holy craplakistan. How the hell is this a present? Have they changed the meaning of the word “present” in the Oxford English Dictionary and nobody told me? ‘Cause what this really is is a navel-gazing, wheedling pean to one’s own idiocy. You couldn’t have taken your cheap ass to Williams-Sonoma and bought the happy couple a damn spatula? Anybody reading this will come away with one assessment of Cohen: “Yeah, I can see why she didn’t hitch her wagon to that star!” And by the way, who the frak are you to “absolve” her of “any guilt or sadness” she might possibly have maybe felt between breaking up with you and getting married to New Dude? I seriously doubt she’s carrying one scintilla of guilt into this marriage. Oh, and I read “I showered her with as much love blah blah blah” as “I smothered her to the point of buying matching cell phones complete with GPS so I could know where she was at every moment in the day and then she ran away screaming into the night.”
He then spends the rest of this pathetic public exercise in stupidity by enumerating her supernatural gifts (which, apparently, no other woman in all of the Eastern Seaboard possesses):
I want to thank her, mostly, for rescuing me from hopelessness.
WRONG. Just…WRONG. No. No, no, NO. Do not do that to anybody. Seriously, dude? I know you met her after a divorce and all, but you are throwing all your emotional sewage onto her. This is a passive-aggressive way of saying that she’s thrown you back into hopelessness because she wouldn’t marry you and is marrying someone else.
Get thee to a therapist! YESTERDAY.
I want to thank her for being so delightful with my son, who talks about her still, and to my parents, who couldn’t believe their son’s good fortune to have landed such a sweetheart.
Ok, now this is just getting sad. You’re bringing up both the kid and parent cards? Oh, and you tell her that you never told your dying dad that y’all had broken up? Dude, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? You’re publishing this for everyone to see! Did you not stop to think, “Hey. This might be better left unsaid…at least to anybody who doesn’t have a degree in psychiatry”?
I want to thank her for– it’s now such a cliché that I’m almost embarrassed to write it — making me want to be a better man.
You should have been embarrassed to write this whole damn missive. Again, stop making her responsible for who you are. If you opened your mind to new ideas (except, apparently, brevity and discretion), those were choices you made. Your deification of this woman is creepy beyond belief.
And children, it goes on. And on. And ON. If this was a drunken, regret-filled 3 a.m. phone call that got taped and then put on YouTube, I could excuse it. But this guy sat down and thought about this. He chose words that put her on such a pedestal, he virtually says that this Perfect Woman has ruined him for all other women in all of New York City. Oy, vey. He then wrote these words—typed them into a word processing program, probably proofread this tripe, and then sent it to the publisher at Politics Daily. I wish someone at Politics Daily had simply said to him, “I don’t think I would tell anybody this.”
You know what makes this whole thing worse? That some people are actually, seriously defending this guy and calling this nonsense “sweet.”