Dear Mr Fuckwit
First up, I should explain why I am addressing you as “Mr”. Obviously, in this situation, you are a
man. Now don’t get me wrong. I like men.
I like working with them and having them as friends. My father was a man and my son will be a man
one day. Hell, I even married a
man. So it’s nothing personal against you
as a man. I know that women can be
fuckwits too. But in my experience, and
particularly my most recent experiences, you are a man. So deal with it, princess.
You have been a part of my life in the past and you have
taken on many forms. Mostly, you have
been my boyfriend. You were a medical
student that I dated for five years, before you told me you were gay. To this day, I don’t know if you have ever come
out to your family. You were a college
student, much younger than me but kind of bad and exciting. So bad and exciting you thought that shagging
another girl in my bed was not a big deal.
You were an older man, who seemed to have it all together; who told me
it was over on the telephone. I have to
admit, in that last incarnation, I was relieved when you broke up with me. By this time, I had worked out you were a
fuckwit.
These days, I see you occasionally. Sometimes you crop up at work, playing
bullshit games and trying to point score against me. You haven’t worked out yet that I actually
don’t care about looking better than you (mainly because I know I am). Sometimes, when I least expect it, you turn
up in the supermarket, standing in the queue for ten items or less with a
trolley full of stuff. Or you cut in
front of me in a car park. Or the coffee
queue. You “defriended” me on Facebook
because I challenged your world view. You
look different each time. But every
time, if I confront you, or your behaviour, you try and either ignore me, or
make out that it’s my fault. And that’s
what makes you a fuckwit.
That’s ok. I can deal
with your fuckwittage when I don’t know you, or have little to do with you. What I don’t fathom is how you are back in my
life in such a big way this week, not directly affecting me, but those who are
close to me and whom I hold dear. I
thought we were done, I really did. And
now, you are back.
I have a theory about you.
Let me see how this fits.
Generally, you’re not too confident in yourself. Maybe you think you haven’t reached your full
potential, that you are living a “second best” life. This isn’t your fault, of course. It’s probably your family’s fault. Or your bitch ex-girlfriend or wife’s. Anyway, you do feel that you have been dealt
a less than fair hand in this life, and you deserve more. Not that you are going to do much about
that. That’s way too hard. Get a higher education? Waste of time.
Go for a promotion? No way, the
boss has it in for you. Maybe challenge
yourself to do something new, meet new people, make new contacts? No, you’re right, that’s too much like hard
work. So what can you do to feel better
about yourself?? Let me see…what have
you been doing this last little while….?
Well, how about you look around for a new girlfriend. Not like your ex though, this one has to be
completely different. I know, how about
you hook yourself a well-educated, articulate, capable, good looking, generous
and caring woman? Shouldn’t be too hard,
let’s face it, there’s plenty about in the 30+ singles market. And if she’s younger than you…well, that’ll
impress your mates.
I know what you’re thinking.
Surely if a woman has all of this going for her, she’s not going to give
you a second look, is she? Well you and
I both know that isn’t true, is it?
Especially when you tap into what I like to refer to as the “oestrogen
factor”. Let me remind you.
The “oestrogen factor” is what levels women out,
irrespective of education, social background, looks, whatever. It refers to the fact that most of us girls
have some capacity to care for those in need; probably a variation on the
mothering instinct. So when we are faced
with you, a little under confident, charming, attentive, seemingly unsure and
perhaps a little damaged by life…well, we get taken over by the “oestrogen
factor”. We want to nurture you, look
after you, be with you and help you get through life and reach your full
potential. Because you deserve that, don’t
you?
Well, actually, you don’t.
Because once you have us hooked, you are going to use us, not to improve
your prospects, achieve more and build a great life with us. You are going to use us to make yourself feel
good. And you do that by making us feel
like shit.
It might take a while.
At first, you make yourself appear just vulnerable enough to garner our
sympathy. Not completely dysfunctional
or damaged, that would drive us away.
But, we get the impression that you have been hurt (by aforementioned
family/ex-girlfriend or wife) and that’s affected you. Maybe you have some health issues (real or
imagined) and you like to appear to minimise those, while actually maximising
them for additional sympathy. You might not have a lot of money,
or your own house (insert story about wicked ex-girlfriend/wife who took you to
the cleaners here). You have been a
victim of circumstance, dealt a rough hand in life and wow, you can’t believe
you have been so lucky to land a girl like me.
That’s it. We, the well-educated,
smart, articulate and capable women are hooked.
By the oestrogen factor. Oh, and your bullshit.
So, now you have us.
And we aren’t going anywhere because we are in this for the long haul. I mean, you seem so nice. And caring.
And (cruellest of all), you adore my kids. Well, it’s not like you are
allowed to see yours. We can totally
make this work.
So why then, did you start surfing internet dating sites and
arranging to meet other women? Why did
you turn from being laid back, a little shy, to a screaming, shouting animal
when I said or did something with which you didn’t agree, or when things didn't go your way? Why, all of a sudden, did my opinion,
thoughts or wishes take second place to yours all
the time?
Oh yes, I see. It’s because once you had me, you totally HAD
me. And you love the feeling that you
can “do what you want” either behind my back, or to my face.
Maybe you justify it by telling yourself I am unreasonable, or
demanding. Or maybe shouting at me makes
you feel powerful, in control. Because I
don’t shout back. I am shocked. And betrayed.
And very, very sad.
For a while, you’ll apologise for the break outs in your
behaviour. You didn’t know what came
over you, you’ll say. You are so sorry,
it will never happen again, you promise.
You’ll buy us something nice, or be extra attentive and caring. And we’ll get sucked in all over again. Because we are like that. We don’t want to believe that you are a
fuckwit. We want to believe that our
hearts and our heads were right. But
somewhere, in the back of our minds, we know something’s not right. Because here’s another thing about us: we may
be subject to the “oestrogen factor”, but we are NOT stupid.
So, we confront you.
Maybe we caught you red handed in a deception (it’s not that hard, we
are smarter than you, remember?)
Maybe we decided that we had been shouted at enough. Maybe your selfishness, dysfunction and fuckwittage
have finally become the usual (your normal) behaviour, not the occasional
outbreak. How do you respond?
Of course. How could
I be so silly? It’s all my fault.
I’m difficult. I’m
overbearing. I talk too much. I’m unreasonable. I’m (ahem) “hard work”. I want too much from you. What the fuck? All those things that you once told me you
liked, even loved, about me, are now my faults?
AND THEY ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR FUCKWIT BEHAVIOUR??
Oh no. We’re not
going to cop that. Because we know that
we haven’t changed. You have. Or maybe you just felt that you didn’t have to
pretend anymore. And because you won’t acknowledge
or take responsibility for your behaviour, you reveal yourself as you truly
are. A total and complete fuckwit.
Goodbye.
