Why I Don't Say the Name

I've pretty much gotten over the whole thing with my ex-wife, and that's been true for a long time. I was never really all that bitter about her and the path of destruction she reaked on my life. The truth is, I was just happy to see her go and I've never looked back. Unlike other past girlfriends, she didn't leave me bitter and angry and ready to give up, even though -- and let me be clear about this -- my ex-wife was the single worst relationship I've ever been in. I don't want to sound like I'm cutting her any slack on that now, because I'm real clear on all of it.

But as opposed to, say, Jude, who left me bitter for years after, that relationship didn't make me want to close up shop completely. In fact, I was ready to jump to Shannon immediately. And when Shannon diverted me to Becky, I was ready to jump there, too. (As an aside about Becky, she is another good example of the destructive sort of girl I tend to fall for when I'm really vulnerable. If you think Amy is bad, she has *nothing* on Becky Streeter). And then only a couple months later, I was willing to try and go for it with Milta. And then only a few months after that, Samantha came along.

I think it's because that relationship was so bad for so long, and I was so depressed and hated myself so much (for other reasons as well as that), that when I saw the window of opportunity open to free myself I just jumped headfirst through that window. When the situation in that apartment became unmanageable, and she saw that I was taking Shannon's side over hers almost unanimously, I'm sure she saw the writing was on the wall. And when she took a few weeks to leave and stay with Crystal, I knew that was my shot. She was no sooner off of the property than my wedding ring was off of my finger and stashed away. It never went back on my finger, even when she returned and noticed I wasn't wearing it. Only a few weeks later she was gone from Davis St. permanently.

After that, I kept my dealings with her to a minimum. I had to deal with her somewhat during the divorce procedings, which went far easier than I had any right to expect given who I was dealing with. And when she left we were still in a custody battle over the car (my old Buick aka "Bessie the Blue Ox"), which only lasted until I moved back to Bernardston and could afford the payments on it fully again ... and after she blew out the brakes and decided to dump the car on me without any further fight.

The divorce went pretty smooth. I signed, she signed, we had it notarized, we went down to the office to file, and ninety days later I was single again. I've only seen her once since, which is a story I'll save for another time. Don't worry, no sex was involved.

I don't say her name. I haven't said it, I think, since 1996, which is when the divorce went through. I'm not 100% certain about that, because it's possible the name did come up in conversation with Dan, Lynne, Terry, Troy, Shannon, Crystal, or whoever else may have known her. But I can guarantee I haven't said the name aloud or written it since 1999 at least. And I won't.

Over time she's become something I can use for humorous effect, by way of telling stories about the old married life, like how she used to dispatch me for cigarettes at the store and I would purposefully buy the slightly wrong kind just to irritate her and lessen the likelihood of her sending me after them again. That's something that Dan cribbed from me in a relationship or two of his own. I'm glad I can provide that kind of thing for my friends. The subject has recently come up at work, too, as Jim is prone to telling stories about his ex-wife. While she sounds like a piece of work herself, I'm really not sure his ex can compare to mine, because my ex-wife is pure evil.

That's right. Pure evil. There is not a single ounce, or drop, of goodness anywhere to be found in her black, rotted soul. She did a good job of disguising that from me in the earliest going, and at the time I was far from at my best anyway, so it was easy to put things past me, and anyway I'm not sure I cared a whole lot about anything then either. But the signs started to show. After a while I could see the horns, and the black wings, and the fangs, and I could see it in the eyes, too. You may think you've met evil in your life, but take on long look into those eyes and there is nothing in there but absolute malevolence. Seriously. Ask ANYONE, even her family, and they'll tell you the same.

Part of the reason I don't speak her name is a personal choice. Names have power, as I've discussed before in a completely different context, and she has no power over me and will not have power over me ever again. Further, it's part of my program to completely expunge her from the record. Yes, I was married. Ok. But you'll never know who she was or anything about her if I can help it. I won't give her relevance or credibility by using her name. I don't have enough respect for her to use her name. And she becomes simply 'X' or 'the ex-wife', and maybe sometimes 'Lynne's sister'. And that's all.

The other part of it is superstitious. She's evil. Evil right to the bone. I'm afraid if I say her name it will somehow disrupt the cosmos and she'll suddenly appear in a puff of black smoke. Ok, not literally that way, but you get the idea. The joke I make of that thought is Beetlejuice, where when you say his name three times he'll appear and such. But really, this superstition is much more like Candyman, which works along the same idea. Beetlejuice is really more of a nuisance; the Candyman, though, will really fuck you up hard.

And that's why I don't say her name.