A Revenge Greater Than Living Well

After every breakup, dissolution or just plain bad ending, I always remind myself  that living well is the best revenge. I keep moving forward, bettering myself, learning from my mistakes and building on my experience. I mean, there is usually a lot of drinking and dancing, and eating ice cream in my pajamas, too, for a short while, but then it’s all about progress.

I work hard to make any partnership work, whether in business or in my social life, so that if it does not I can end it with no regrets, knowing I did my part. I don’t burn bridges but that’s only because I don’t bother to look back. I might be one of those super cool chicks that is above concern, but it’s more likely that I’m just too lazy to waste my energy on nonsense that won’t further my own agenda in any way. Putting others down, trying to make them miserable, trying to undo what they have done, none of that helps me or my family in any way, so I have no time or energy to spend on it.

The problem with this sort of laziness or indifference is that it leaves you open  to attack. When you turn your back to walk away it makes it very easy for others to gather there and talk. By the time I reached “real” adulthood there wasn’t anything you could say about me that hadn’t been said so I was pretty much desensitized to the BS that is gossip and slander. If you wanted to light a fire under my ass and really get me riled up you had to attack me where it hurt, my soft spot, the people around me.

I would get riled up, all right, and start calling upon all my resources, which are many, and then… there we were, all my “resources” and I, hanging out, maybe having a drink and just generally living well, and suddenly whatever mission we were on to protect one another seemed far less important. We were living well and that truly is the best revenge. Or, so I thought.

Until the night when someone asked me if I had heard what someone else was saying about me and all that is mine and I had to reach for a picture in my mind of that person’s face and could not conjure up an actual memory of why they would hate me so thoroughly. It was then, as I heard stories of my Facebook being stalked and my name being drug through the mud, that I realized living well leads to a far greater revenge. Forgetting.

Imagine going out of your way to make someone miserable and they are simply too happy to notice or care, how frustrating that must be. Makes ya laugh, doesn’t it? Let’s do it. Let’s choose to live so well we forget others that would have us stew in their misery with them. I know it’s not easy. I know it may involve some amount of going out drinking and dancing and then coming home to eat ice cream in your pajamas. What exactly do you think living well is? That sounds like the good life to me. Let’s move forward, let’s choose to forget… whoever that guy was.


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