Mexican Hat Dance

Well it certainly looks like the lovebirds are back from Mexico. Although I will admit I am a little hurt. I didn’t get a postcard or, like, a souvenir. I was hoping they would send me a Mexican fruit picker’s hat. But, {D}, those don’t exist, do they?

So kiddos, I certainly hope you two had so much fun. And looking at how translucent Ginger Pubes is over here, I hope no one got a sunburn. One would hope you had your handy Mexican fruit picker’s hat to keep you in the shade.

But here is the thing. I’m a little displeased that you guys couldn’t take a fucking vacation without being here and forcing that information on me because you’re both narcissistic assholes.

Being the vindictive bitch I am, it got the little wheel spinning in my head. And quite frankly, by this point you should probably know better than to start that process. And frankly, at this point I’ll take vindictive, but remember I’m a rape victim. I’m a vindictive rape victim. It is pretty goddamn normal. Shocking, I know.

So I had been in this spiraling panic state trying to figure out the legal argument and what I would need and how I could get it and how to word it and, more importantly, how to try this case.

Now, known factors: I am losing my goddamn shit right now because obviously we are still spiraling from the PTSD of {D}’s girlfriend being raped by him and coming on my website. And I want them both to go away, and they’re still here. Every bit of current information I have on them is because they visit the blog when I told them not to be here. Because here is the thing, I am the rape victim. And we know how I feel when she does that shit at midnight, correct?

And quick rundown, guys. I do believe the timeline is something like this: {D} went out of town for a “family emergency,” so he was of course fucking someone because of course he went out of town, so of course his dick was in someone because he is a whore, he gets on the Zoom for my public records comment, then he shares a post on WhatsApp through the button on my website, which, given the fact he used to chat with me on that after the apocalypse and I had given him instructions on how to hide that app on his phone in plain sight because I am actually good at this shit, so his girlfriend wouldn’t know. Frankly, if that app was still exactly where I told him to put it, he is a fucking moron. Why give me that information? What are you thinking? And then he pressed the fucking button on my website? For that exact app?

There are no fucking words in the English language for the level of dumbassery of that shit right there.

And then of course a couple days later he rapes her.

Here is the thing on that, there are a couple options here. One, it’s exactly what I think is happening that is happening, and she is reaching out to me, his rape victim, for some sort of help or support. Two, she is so incredibly fucking evil she is knowingly fucking with her boyfriend’s rape victim, who just keeps telling her how much it affects me and sends the victim into flashbacks and spirals and the occasional major breakdown, such as the one I am in now. Are there other possibilities, given the amount of times I have said it and it has happened again? I’m not seeing any myself.

And then they make sure I know they’re in Mexico. Mexico is {D}’s happy place. It really is. He loves it there. And frankly, if he has vacation time and money, he is probably doing pretty damn good for himself. He has gotten over everything and never was punished or bothered with anything like therapy, like I begged him to do. Or maybe rehab, which I have offered to drop the lawsuit if he would go to rehab. And that has been on the table the whole time.

So he is back to actually a better life than he had and hasn’t even bothered to consider taking it upon himself to maybe look at what happened and what I’ve been through and have the fucking self-awareness to go, “Man, look at what happened here. Maybe I should, at a minimum, try to change because it looks like I really harmed someone with my actions and I feel bad about that.”

No. He is in Mexico. Enjoying life. I myself am in bed. I am frankly having way too much trouble showering. I’m barely even able to apply for jobs and maybe get somewhat close to being able to support myself. I did a Zoom interview last week at least. I don’t think it went well. I didn’t look good because I couldn’t get in the shower, and I was nervous because I hadn’t talked to a human in over a week. I’ve just been talking to myself about the case.

So, given I make it through this particular nervous breakdown that {D} and that fucking bitch set me off on, which I do have an appointment on the 9th, so we are going to figure some shit out and get back on a better path. But here is the thing. My logic is fucking sound. And I have done nothing but obsessively and manically go through this case. Put this together in your heads.

It’s been over a week, maybe two. With my brain, which has a lot of knowledge and a damn high IQ, I have just spent all that time putting together and tearing apart every possible argument and plan and anything I can possibly find.

Okay, so level of insanity and delusion of grandeur factored in, I think I have this shit nailed down. Because guys, guess what? They are going to hate {D}. I might not know a jury; I am definitely keeping that in mind. But I was a teacher and I was in sales. I have a huge personality, as you may have noticed.

I can’t ask myself questions when it’s my turn to be a witness, so it can only be a narrative. I just have to tell my story. And I can tell a fucking story, as you might have possibly noticed by now. And I can teach, and I have spent two years studying trauma science. I love to teach with stories. This is my goddamn wheelhouse right here. This is actually, like, a skill I have.

Listen, I get how crazy I am right now, but I will of course once again mention it’s because of those fuckers. People don’t always like me per se, but I’m really engaging and people trust me. None of you have met me—I mean except for {D}, which of course is why we are all here—but I am animated, and my tone modulation is normally amazing and emotional. I am a speaker that people actually usually pay attention to.

And whatever I have done I will admit to and explain. There can always be a mea culpa. Call me whatever you feel like, but I’ve proven that I am working on it. I’ve been to fucking therapy and rehab. I am trying. I have a horrifying trauma history that explains so many things. But the thing of it is I am directly engaging them. They are going to know me.

{D} will only be on the witness stand. And they hate his ass. First, video. Need I say more on that? Second, if he is arguing I’m just a vindictive ex-girlfriend who is jealous, he is going to have a minor issue. That being, he took a woman with a serious fucking trauma history, raped her, told her he loved her while he did it, got her into a relationship, while—and guys, this is where it gets fun—he is already in a relationship with a married fucking woman and does nothing but lie to me and her the entire fucking time. And then I watch the video and spend a couple days trying to get him to talk to me, then give it another chance and show up, but he is with his married girlfriend, who he lied to about breaking up with me so she would file for divorce from her husband of twenty years, and then fakes a goddamn heart attack to avoid me after he left me the keys to his home.

Alright. Looking at this particular scenario, I am sorry, everyone hates this motherfucker. There is no way they don’t.

And also, Todd, I hope everything has kind of been explained by now, but frankly at this point do you really blame me? Even if I am being vindictive?

I personally don’t actually think many people would.

Every damn woman would be like, “Well, she showed self-restraint. I would think she would have just killed him. And I would find her not guilty if she did.”

Most of you are {D}people. You know him. You don’t know me. I will venture a guess all of you believe me and probably don’t blame me, except Todd, who may have lost his job over this and my decision of how to report it. But frankly, I really wonder if he even blames me some days.

Look at the fucking scenario. Lying, cheating, manipulating, drunk, womanizing, homewrecker. No one fucking likes that guy.

So what does this have to do with Mexico? Well, the thought is this. I’m just going to be like, “Hey guys, this guy loves Mexico. And it pisses me off when he goes there because he should be in prison and I’m still not okay from this. I would like very much for that to not happen again. So do a little favor, see that line that says ‘punitive damages?’ So, if you agree with me, just throw an extra zero or more right there so he is indebted to me for the rest of his fucking life.”

I am just saying, if I can do this the way I think I can do this, I will give myself 50/50 on the extra zeros.

And then, kids, I can go get my own goddamn Mexican fruit picker’s hat.

PS: If you don’t remember that story. There was a big floppy wide-brimmed hat in his closet over the guns. Early on, he was standing in the closet and he put it on and said it was a Mexican fruit picker’s hat. He then said the Spanish word for it. To the untrained eye it would have appeared to be a woman’s wide-brimmed sun hat. Months later, the hat is missing. {D} is in the closet and I say, “Hey, where’s the hat?” And he says, “What hat?” And I say, “The hat over the guns?” He then pulls down a fedora with a green band and puts it on the gun and says, “Right there.” I of course explain I meant the other hat and repeat the fruit-picking story to him. He then tells me that “there was no hat.” He will repeat this several times. It would have been around October of 2024, like three months after the fucking apocalypse, when he last swore up and down there was no fucking hat. He just kept telling me the hat wasn’t real.

And if you still blame me, read that shit again.