Baby are you down down down down down

I indulge in a certain amount of schadenfreude. I'm not sure how healthy this is, but it's how I cope.

I refer to Monday as Feel Good TV. I watch Intervention, Hoarders and an episode or two of Cops if I can find it. (Also? Teen Mom on MTV? Loooove it.) I watch these shows with a hilarity and amusement because no matter what's going on with my life, I will never:

• Live on top of 75 dead cats
• Have the floor of my bathroom eaten through by 3 tons of used adult diapers
• Sound like the girl who was inhaling computer duster
• Be arrested in a trailer park wearing a cut-off t-shirt

There are certain givens in life, and these are just a few of mine.

I also still keep up with S's step-mother. Not purely for schadenfreude purposes; she's a nice woman who genuinely cares about me and how I am doing. But the schadenfreude is definitely present in our conversations.

I have been forwarding all of S's communications to his father and step-mother since I left him. He lies are so constant and expanding that no one in his life knows what the truth is, but they can get a better idea of it when everyone compares notes. So they know he had been trying to get back together with me most of his time in rehab. They know he threatened me and my family when I rejected him. They know I contacted his rehab facility and informed them of the threat I received from one of their patients and that I forwarded the e-mail to them as well.

Three days after this happened, S called his father. He was leaving the rehab facility and transferring back to the first one he attended this summer. The one for homeless people. He said it was cheaper and he would be able to save more money. But my therapist has worked closely with those rehab facilities and they are both free. Not to mention he has never saved a penny in his life.

"The rehab place must have taken me seriously," I told his step-mom after she informed me of all this.

"Yes, it's too coincidental. Him leaving this place so quickly after you contacted them," she agreed.

And I felt great. For my entire life, everyone around me has been telling me that my feelings are wrong. That I should be feeling this instead of that. The result is that I have never learned to trust myself. When I contacted my therapist immediately after receiving the threat, she was the only one in my life who acknowledged my scared feelings and helped me work through them. "Do what you need to do to feel safe," she told me. "Contact the rehab facility. They'll keep him accountable for his actions. If anything he'll be embarrassed to be called on his behavior."

The rehab facility did keep him accountable, presumably by kicking him out for his behavior. My feelings were validated by complete strangers. And this is wholesome good feelings, not even the schadenfreude.

"Wait, I didn't even tell you the best part," his step-mom interrupted my warm fuzzies. "He all of a sudden has a girlfriend, telling his father they've been together for 6 months already."

I laughed. But I was also relieved. If he had someone else to focus on, then maybe he's going to leave me alone for good.

"But we both know he's been trying to get back with you until last week," she continued.

"Maybe he's been working two girls at once. You know he went out with Erica after he and I fought because he was lining up the next girl in case we didn't work out. He's probably doing the same thing again," I said thoughtfully.

She shushed me. "If she even exists!" she claimed.

It turns out the new girlfriend does exist. Subsequent phone calls from the step-mom informed me that his real mom is over the moon with the match because this girl is some local, dead politician's granddaughter. Apparently this has status.

"Yeah, she sounds great, being in rehab and all. I guess being a drug addict doesn't matter," I snipped. In truth my feelings were a little hurt. Not by the new girlfriend, but because being a college graduate with a good job and living a good life didn't make me good enough for S's mom. It's become quite public how she dislikes me.

Smugly, I told my mom about the rehab girlfriend. "God, I don't know how he survived as long as he did being with someone as good as you," she cracked.

I got another phone call from S's step-mother last week. "If I tell you something, you promise you won't tell anyone?" she began.

"Sure."

"The rehab girlfriend just got arrested for shoplifting."

BUAHAHAHAHAH!

Better than any Cops or Intervention episode. But Hoarders is just too damn good.