Anytime I tell someone about how my abusive ex-boyfriend sent my naked photos to our coworkers, they always ask the same question: “Do you have any naked photos of HIM?”
I always thought the answer was “no.” Sure, he’d sent some– but I deleted that shit. After a breakup, I go a T. Swift sort of crazy, throwing things from windows and trashing everything that reminds me of the guy. I didn’t realize there would ever come a time when so many people would ask me about his dick picks and naked selfies. And when they did, I always told the truth: I deleted it. Or at least… I thought I did.
When I found out I had to testify against him him in his wrongful termination lawsuit I began compiling everything I had on him. In the midst of sorting through files on my computer, something truly terrifying happened– I stumbled upon that Unholy of Unholies, lingering in some archived folder like a parasite upon my life.
I stared in horror– not unlike the first time I saw it. It was obvious he had tried really REALLY hard to be sexy. And the degree to which he’d failed was nothing short of painful. He’d committed every single selfie abuse you can imagine:
1. Have dirty laundry lying about in the background
2. Don’t mother making your bed. Just leave it strewn about like a homeless person’s squat.
3. Pay no mind to what might be reflecting in the mirror– like your bare ass.
4. Leave the photos of your children up. Bonus points if they’re right next to your reflected bare ass.
But these aren’t what made it so horrifying, no. Here he was– a grown man in a dirty bedroom, standing in the nude with a stern and dangerous look on his face…
HOLDING A FUCKING SWORD.
It was the most painfully epic case of #NAILEDIT that I’ve ever seen in my life. Like some sort of lofty Pinterest project gone awry, it was clear what he’d been going for:
But he’d ended up with this:
As far as my ex, coworkers, and the legal system are concerned, I don’t have this photo. He asked me to delete it after I dumped him, so I did. I even testified under oath that I no longer had it. I didn’t realize my computer was saving it for a rainy day.
I’ve since backed it up across every digital device I own—it’s on my iPad, my phone, my computers, and it’s floating up there in The Cloud. I’m aware of its presence like some eager-fingered code-holder at a nuclear missile silo.
It helps me sleep at night.
From the first time he laid a hand on me in Summer 2011 to the closing of his trial in August 2013, I’ve played by the rules. I’ve defied that redheaded instinct to lash out and restrained an innate desire to destroy him by any means possible. I like to think I’ve banked some good karma by not pulling every single trigger he’s given me.
And while I’ll never cease to proclaim that the best revenge is to move on and live a happy life, this guy needs to learn his lesson, tuck his tail, and leave me the hell alone. Because the second best revenge is to repay fire with fire and something tells me my ex’s naked photo has “viral” written all over it.
Do you hold any aces in the pocket against those who have wronged you? Have you ever received an unsolicited or unattractive selfie? All legal consequences aside—what sort of fun do you think I could have with this photo?
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