“Better Than My Ex” is Not My Standard

And I am worth more

“Well, at least he’s better than your ex-husband,” I’ve been told.

Like, sit the fuck down, bitch. Be grateful for what you have. It doesn’t matter if certain aspects of this relationship are toxic. At least it’s not abuse.

It doesn’t matter if you are inherently incompatible. Be content with what you have. At least there’s a man who will put up with your broke, crazy, unemployed ass.

(No man is going to want to take care of you and your five kids, he still hisses in the back of my mind.)

“Better than my ex” is not even a standard. As a human he has some good qualities and deserves love just like everyone else; as a life partner, a dog would be better for me. A ghost would be better. A middle-aged man child who has never held a job would be better.

As a sexual partner, almost any man off the street would be better. I’d rather have sex with a 70-year-old man who has cold hands and erectile dysfunction than my ex husband. I’d rather have sex with a 400 pound man who eats potato chips all day and only bathes once a week. I’d rather have sex with my dildo.

I’m abundantly aware that my own choices led me into a marriage with an abusive man. It’s totally my responsibility.

(We’ll overlook all the people in my life who taught me almost from birth that my purpose is to listen to my husband, but never taught me what a red flag even is, much…