Getting the Last Word

Getting the last word can be many things, but my favorite is when getting the last word is EMPOWERING. Take, for example, my last encounter with Mr. T. (The Nigerian money scammer, not the A-Team icon. Still, I pity the fool...)

After the humiliation of discovering Mr. T was only interested in my money and couldn't care less about me, I will admit that my pride was stung. I was irritated with myself for getting caught up in the hope of a finding a real Hottie, who turned out to be a total NOTtie. I was embarassed for sharing my excitement with friends, knowing that now I would have to look like a loser. Again. Then I began to think about how many other people he must have scammed, and how many went along with giving him money. How many lost their money, their heart, their dignity. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I grew... Hulk style... and I wanted revenge.

So I did something a little crazy: I called him.

I didn't say a single word, just listened to him repeat "hello? hello?" over and over again. Surprise! No Russian accent this time. Instead, the bustling sounds of a cyber cafe filled the background, and Mr. T called out "Hello? Hello? Are you there? Hello?"

Moments after hanging up, my phone was peppered with his text messages: 5:41 MR. T: "Hello" 5:42 "are u there talk to me" 5:44 "u tried to call me now" 5:44 "say something to me please" 5:44 "talk to me" 5:53 "are u there" I won't lie, I enjoyed watching him squirm a bit. And then, my disgust boiled over. ME: "How can you live with yourself?" MR. T.: "what do u mean?" "please call me now lets talk on the phone" And then, I had my final say on the matter. ME: "It's bad enough that you and your partners steal from people for a living, but it's despicable that you prey on people with broken hearts." MR. T: "ohh how do u mean" "im not into that ok"

So, technically, I didn't have the last word with Mr. T... but I did have my final say in the matter, and felt empowered in having said it. I imagined that I was choosing to be one small voice for the voiceless, and I was proud of myself in that tiny moment.

Afterwards, I did something a little crazy: I prayed.

I prayed for the crook, hoping that maybe- just maybe- he would think... even for a moment... about what kind of life he had chosen for himself. I prayed, hoping that he might actually put a face on the faceless that he had robbed. I prayed, hoping that he would make a choice to be a better man. I prayed, hoping that through the process, I would not become bitter, I would not lose faith, and I would not give up on finding someone amazing to love again. Crazy? Maybe. :)