Part 2: The Web spite

I don't even like being here--in this place--where I am writing about "the Web spite", as one of my friends and I have come to know it. I just want it to go away. It is the scummy boyfriend who pops up after a few years ... the one that you are really, really over with. You know, the one you just need to go away. Forever.

You could never, ever see him again ... and you'd be fine with it.

That is the feeling I get when I think about what this girl has done to me--like I just want to hop in a hot shower and just scrub myself clean. Betrayal is dirty, which is why I need to comletely wash myself clean of this person, this Web spite, this situation.

After this, I'm done. I don't want to think about it, write about it, scream about it. I'm done feeling dirty over something dirty that was done to me.

So, regarding the story I hired M to write. (And if you are lost, read my previous post.) Her lead (her first paragraph of the story she wrote for me) was pretty much copy-and-pasted off of a Web site. I told her this was, um, something we like to call plagiarism in the journalism field. She emailed me back--demanding payment.

I got the first email on a Friday. I was at work, on my lunch break, with my co-worker, C. I looked down at my phone and saw the first line of the first email. "I am not surprised that you ..."

"Oh no!" I said over a hot chic-fil-a sandwich. "I can't read this. It's going to be bad. She plays dirty." I handed C the phone. She read the email and kind of shrugged at it. "Well, she wants to be paid for a plagiarized piece, but other than that, not too bad."

I had just finished my delightful little sandwich when my phone vibrated. I had another email. It was from her. "Also" was the subject line.

"Oh man. C, read this and please, just tell me if I can read it."

She held the phone in front of her and within seconds, her eyes said it all. She looked worried, frustrated ... appauled. And she had one thing to say:

"Suzy, this girl is NOT ... and NEVER WAS your friend." And she sat silently for a moment. "I want you to erase this right now."

"You better give me bullet points at least," I begged. "I have to at least know what it is about. Come on, dish."

After having tossed my phone to the side--as if it had been tainted by the message glaring upon its screen--she held it in her hands and began to read. But, then she stopped.

"All I can tell you is that think about every dark secret you have ever told this girl. And I mean, everything. She basically spells it all out in detail. She says you are living a lie and that she has been holding her tongue for years. She uses all of the stuff you confided in her about ... to attack you. To rip you to pieces"

And then she gave me the bullet points--that felt like bullets piercing my heart. "She went there?! What? But, how could I be living a lie? She knows what I went through after my sister died and how that messed me up. And how I acted out after that. And how much it hurt me that I cried until I could cry no more."

"She says it was all an excuse so you could do the things you did."

"An excuse!?" I was so angry--because you know, she was one of the only people who knew about "the stuff." "An excuse?! Oh, just let me run into this girl and I will show her excuse!"

I went through all of the emotions in a span of a few minutes and then I pulled it together. That night, I let hubby read the email. She attacks me. She attacks him. She attacks our marriage. She attacks everything that I stand for. She calls me a hypocrite and says that I am living a lie. She holds some really deep stuff over my head. She wanted me to be scared of the secrets that she knew about.

Little did she know, hubby knew everything.

"Everything she said that you are, she just did to you in this email," he said with his head down. "It's just ... really bad, Suzy. Really bad."

And at that point, I decided to block her from my email account. I felt so tainted, so betrayed and I refused to let this girl do this to me--ever again. That night, I sent her an email telling her, basically, that she had nothing on me.

And that I was more proud than ever about the colorful story I have. "I choose to be naked and not ashamed because of who my father God is," I told her. In short, I messed up bad, but God is going to use my mistakes one day--so that I can help other women.

You know, I simply refuse to be ashamed of anything. This girl has nothing on me--except for a duplicated idea for a Web site. There are no secrets. And you know what? I am embracing every ounce of my story. I have nothing to hide. One day, I'll proudly tell it all--when the timing is right.

For now, I love to think about the last line of her email that says "I really hope you seek help."

Honey, let me tell you about help. It is what I like to call "the block." You have been blocked. And I say that with a smug smile on my face.

(And since I know you are just dying to see the Web spite that I speak of, have fun: it's at momshare dot org. I am personally banned from ever looking at it again--you know, for my sanity.)