Readers, Ex has a Champion. His name is Mr. Hobert Flory, a 53-year-old bus driver, lawnmower, and handyman from podunk nowhere. Mr. Flory boldly put his name to his misogynistic and verbally abusive proposed comments. He called me “miss high and mighty,” “a bad mother,” “the real b*tch,” “the bitter divorced b*tch,” a “NAGGING b*tch,” and a plain old “b*tch.” (He certainly likes the word “b*tch” doesn’t he?)
Today, I went to a Quaker meeting with my son who is studying neighboring faiths with his religious education class. Congregants who were moved to speak offered some beautiful insights and wise advice. Quakers strive to recognize something of the Divine in every person. I sat quietly in the meeting thinking about hostile-Hobart-the-handyman. What in him could be Godly? If I attend to that part might it grow larger?
It seems my vitriolic would-be commenter objects most to my hurting Ex. It is honorable to object to one person causing another pain (though once Mr. Flory started tossing around the b-bomb, he lost the moral-high-ground). It is virtuous to care about someone else, and few need concern and support so much as Ex. Further, Mr. Flory is undoubtedly a loyal friend to Ex.
Mr. Flory—I see the things in you which are Godly; which are good, supportive, and doggedly loyal. Now, kindly join Ex in getting offa my cloud.