A dear friend treated me to a mani-pedi for my birthday last week. It’s a luxury to get your nails done while sipping a glass of wine and yapping with someone you’ve known for a very long time. As we sat side by side soaking our feet, I dished about my recent breakup, and the ensuing revelations of my ex’s wild behavior. My friend is an indulgent listener, and she let me unravel. After I said a bunch of mean (and funny, tbh!) things about him, I apologized. I don’t want to be petty, I said. I don’t want to do anything but get better, and move on. She turned to me with her gorgeous grin. Being petty is part of the healing, she said. Never apologize.
She knows what she’s talking about. We met in New York almost 20 years ago, when she was engaged to a seemingly nice guy who proceeded to abuse the fuck out of her for years, starting on their honeymoon when she failed to hang a bath towel perfectly straight. Our circle of friends didn’t realize what was going on in their marriage because she hid it so well, as is often the case; like most abusers, her husband enlisted her to keep quiet about what she was enduring.
When she finally managed to get out of the relationship, and we started learning the details of how he had hurt her, we were horrified, of course — but she has a wicked sense of humor, and somehow, she managed to make us laugh as she told us the worst parts about being married to a deeply insecure, controlling, lying, violent douchecanoe who operated behind a mask of faith and false kindness. She had the best insults. She was funny about it. It was impressive to hear her cutting him down as she became whole again.
I’ve been thinking a lot about being petty since that conversation. Acknowledging that the way in which this guy treated me was deeply wrong by indulging in a little shit-talking really does feel healing. I’m dismantling the massive space he took up in my life by blasting the smaller aspects of our relationship with the raygun of pettiness: spite. A raygun is a “science-fiction directed-energy weapon that releases energy, usually with destructive effect.” Since there’s a negative chance of this guy ever owning up to his bullshit, I’m reclaiming my trusting heart by zapping his stupid ass with PettyPower™.
I’m not trying to make a case for living the rest of my life as a petty person, but in this week’s session with my EMDR therapist, I managed to figure out why this new feeling of pettiness feels like it’s essential to processing everything regarding this guy. The ocean of despair that I was drowning in for months isn’t crashing over me anymore, I told her. It’s receded. Now I’m examining the tidepools of red flags that I ignored in a relationship with someone who never wanted to be in a relationship with me.
Nautical metaphors aside, let’s be real: pettiness comes from a place of anger, and anger has a purpose. “Anger serves as a value indicator and regulator,” one article (I totally just Googled it while writing this) declares. “Anger is activated when our values are not in harmony with our situation. It makes us aware of what we stand for and motivates us to take action to change the situation and realign it with our values. Anger instills optimism.” Ain’t that the (badly phrased) truth? I’ve gotta say, I’m optimistic about what lies ahead, because I’m angry.
My sister was dumped by her longtime boyfriend, an emotionally unavailable wet fart (rude, I know, but you fucked my sister over so I hate your fucking guts, buuuuddy), on her 40th birthday. She flew to visit me in New York that weekend, and spent the bulk of her time weeping in my bathroom on the phone with him while he talked her into taking him back because he realized he’d made a mistake. When she finally ditched him a few months after their reconciliation, I took scissors to every photo I had of the two of them, strategically cutting him out of each one. He’s the Cut-Out, I told her. We don’t know him. We laughed and laughed about it in the years afterwards. My pettiness about him knew no bounds; when Caroline got sick, and the Cut-Out sent me multiple FB messages about how sorry he was to hear of her ‘battle with cancer,’ asking me for updates on how she was, I ignored every one. Caroline wasn’t capable of being petty; she didn’t have a petty bone in her body. I sure did — and, as I’m learning, I still do.
Last night, I hit an open mic to try out some new material — and damn, did it feel good to air things out in a lighthearted way. I’ve been writing about entering my new era, a time of Fuck No (and also Fuck Yes, which I’ll get into at some point!). I’m inspired by all the women I know who are taking control of their own stories, and processing having been taken advantage of by simply saying what’s true: when someone’s words don’t match their actions, it’s manipulation, and refusing to be held accountable for it is a form of gaslighting. None of it is OK — but you can definitely tell jokes about it! I owe a debt of gratitude to my friends Ali and Baldev for getting me onstage and helping me process my rage about this guy by being silly.
This week one of my favorite writers,
, (who is an IRL friend, yes I am very lucky) took stock of her life in a fantastic essay titled “Good Girl”. It hit number one on Substack. In the piece, Davis quotes author , who says, “‘No one rises above. There is no high road, and if there were a high road, which there isn’t — not honestly, not if you look at what it means to have emotions — if there were a high road, it would be as boring as Dante’s Paradiso.’”Duly noted. I’m not on the high road; I’m on the low road at this stage of my journey, and it’s right where I need to be. I know that my urge to be petty will fade, but, for now, I like knowing that my ex is fielding some difficult questions — perhaps while sitting on the couch I bought him!
In the meantime, I’ve got professional petty bitch Taylor Swift’s latest track “The Smallest Man In the World” on replay:
And in plain sight, you hid
But you are what you did
And I'll forget you, but I will never forgive
The smallest man who ever lived
Pettiness. It's all the rage. 💅💋
You and Taylor. Pretty damn fine company.
I'm glad someone is finally standing up for some well placed pettiness.