In Which I Tell Xman to Go Away. Now. Forever

This was a very unpleasant surprise this morning, even superior to some distant transformer blowing just as I was about to get ready for work and knocking out all the power.

In my email inbox, I found a message from Xman. "All" he had done was forward me an email from his friend, Donny Ahole, whose daughter was desperate for survey respondents for her college statistics course.

There was no accompanying message.

Once upon I time, I had liked Donny Ahole and he is not an easy guy to like. I even liked the woman he eventually married. Mostly, I felt sorry for her.

Just after I left Xman, I found out Donny and Donna Ahole were in town and I phoned them to see if they wanted to get together. Donna whispered into the phone that it was not a good idea. I got the message loud and clear.

This morning at work, I tried to figure out the many emotions that washed over me when I saw Xman's name in my mailbox (why haven't I blocked him? Well, I will tonight.) I counted fear first, then dread, annoyance, indignation, and fury.

The last time I spoke to him was more than three years ago and that was just so he could give me some of my stuff that he had finally uncovered in Casa Melancholia. I have since accepted that in that hideous mess, if anything belongs to me, it will likely stay there until Xman gets carted off to the home or joins some survivalist group in Idaho.

In those three years, I have made no contact with him. I did not call him to tell him that Gracie died, nor was I tempted to. I know he has his girlfriend / fiancee / latest victim living with him, a woman named (I'm not kidding and this is really her name, although in another language) Mary Donkeyhome, who has MS. I have never met her. Nor have I ever wanted to.

They were tight when I was pretending we could still be friends.

And I have enjoyed the company of Anonymous Boyfriend and am now enjoying the company of another anonymous gentleman.

I know this is disjointed and rambling with an undercurrent of anger in it, which accurately describes my state of mind this morning.

Still, I think Miss Manners would be proud. This is what I wrote in return:

Donny and Donna Ahole made it perfectly clear to me nine years ago that I was no longer a welcome presence in their lives.

I divorced you eight years ago. I am sure that we have both moved on since then.

Please do not contact me again.

I know. Scathing, isn't it? Well, I consider this fair warning and if he ever does send me an email again even by mistake, I'm calling my lawyer.

There has been no response. Could it be that for once, in the 30 years that we have been aware of each other's existence, that he has listened to me?