Advice Column: Mr. Im-Perfect

Where's my steak, bitch?!

Dear J-Wunder, 

I met him a year ago. We instantly hit it off. For me it was love at first sight. He felt the same. I fell madly in love with him in a matter of months. We never argued. He always made me laugh, smile, brightened my day just by hearing his voice, encouraged me in all decisions I made. I thought we were perfect...he was perfect. We got engaged on Febuary 16,2011. My best friend who's husband introduced us found out that he is married to a woman in Horizon, TX. He denies everything of course. I start digging for info, find his marriage license on the internet. Confront him again and he replies to me with, "If you want to believe somebody else over me, then I don't need you". He then states, I fucked up and played myself. So I basically knew the truth from that email. I gave him the chance to explain only because I love him. I told him after he confesses that it's over between us. He responds with no, it doesn't have to be like that, why can't I have you both, I have for this long.

Being the person and woman I am, I give him another chance, I basically held on. I realized it wasn't right and I couldn't do it any longer so I left. I'm hurt, angry, and furious with him that I want to hurt him like he did me. So I find his wife, call her and tell her everything as of last night. She's furious now, and says he's dead to her and is "filing for divorce". She also tells me he is very abusive, manipulative, a con-artist, and also has mental issues. She tells me he's put his hands on her and has been in prison for beating an ex half to death for leaving him. She tells me I need to be careful because she now feels he will be violent with me for telling her about our affair. He hasn't contacted me as of yet. I don't know if he will.

What do you think? I'm confused, scared, hurt, heartbroken, an emotional wreck. Don't want to let him go but I know I have to. Help me please. In desperate need of J-Wunder advice. Do your thang.

Thanks,
- S




Dear S,

I'm fucking speechless. I read your email (like 10 times) and need a whole bottle of goddamn wine just to start writing. Why? Because I need to get drunk because being sober, I couldn't process what the fuck you are doing. Just so EVERYBODY knows, it was requested that I use names. At first, I was like, "For sure". Then I read, "...very abusive, manipulative, a con-artist, and also has mental issues. She tells me he's put his hands on her and has been in prison for beating an ex half to death for leaving him." Are you fucking crazy?! Three words: NO FUCKING THANKS. I'm a funny guy. I need to stay alive to be fucking funny. I don't need Charlie Manson's goddamn love child trying to find J-Wunder across the country because I said his name. Fuck all that. I'm crazy but I ain't stupid. Tough shit friend.

One man. Two lives. And there you were, caught in the middle of it all. I'm not gonna lie...you got fucking screwed. BIG TIME. I mean, you were in love with your "soul mate", engaged, probably talked about how you two were gonna raise a family and fuck like, every second day, because you just like to talk about fucking. I don't know. Only a dick face like me can assume the beautiful things that people, like yourself, talk about. Anyway, you got shit on. Like everywhere. Your face, head, tits, back, feet. EVERYWHERE. Sorry if I'm digging that wound deeper but, I'm fucking drunk right now.  This wine is so fucking delicious.

S, if I can be honest (like, drunk honest), you need to be thankful. Thankful that what you found out, was a sign. A sign for the best. Imagine if your best friends husband didn't say shit. You know what would happen? You would have gone through this lovey-dovey stage of happiness, gotten married and enjoyed life. So you thought. May 2012 rolls around...he comes home from a hard days work. He's hungry and you my friend, didn't cook shit. Why? Because your ass is fucking tired from a hard day too. Bad move. You know what happens next? Your so-called "soul mate" is about to pull a "Sleeping with the Enemy" mixed with a little "Enough" on your ass. I'm not joking (Julia Roberts and J-Lo got fucked up in those movies). Anytime someone is described as "abusive", "mentally disturbed" and has been in prison for beating a chick half to death for leaving, you need to fucking run. Run to Africa bitch, because the UFC will be coming to your house 5 nights a goddamn week. Love is blind. But for fuck's sake, your love is gonna really be blind when your ass is wearing some sunglasses like Stevie Wonder or a double fucking eye patch like a retarded pirate. Do you want that?

I get that you're hurt, mad and want to get back at him. But what good does that do? The cat is out of the fucking bag so you doing whatever you have planned isn't gonna do you any good. You do realize this mother fucker is crazy, right? And last time I checked, crazy people don't give a shit. ABOUT ANYTHING. They don't cry, they don't call the cops. They do crazy fucking things. Like drink beer and smash the bottle on mother fuckers heads. Cut their last piece of steak on the plate then turn around to stab you in the goddamn neck...like, I don't know, 10-15 times. They will choke a bitch while they watch re-runs of Melrose Place and make sure as they are losing God's air, that they are looking into the dudes eyes. That's how crazy this dude sounds. Now, do you want to be the bitch that feels his wrath? If so, by all means, have fun. But I choose to be a little bitch and run like I just escaped Alcatraz. Gone forever.

There are 1 million fish in the goddamn sea. Lots of them not married with wrap sheets as clean as a chick that just got a Brazilian wax 10 minutes ago. So you loved him. That shit is past tense. Move on, date a normal fucking dude and stay away from the idea of getting revenge. Last thing I need, is to see your ass on a milk carton while shopping for Jiffy Pop. Be cool, run like a fool.

Damn, I'm drunk. 

Don't fuck with crazy,

J-Wunderboy