Voicemail (October 4, 2007)

I was “bummed out” to read Scott McNutt’s article “Wedding Bell Bums, Part II.”  Did I miss anything in not reading “Part I?”  What I got out of this was a person who drank a lot.  He sounds more hurt, angry, lonely and threatened than anything else.  I feel pity for his wife. What’s so funny about the world reading that one’s husband thought so little of his future wife that he had to get very drunk in order to ask her to marry him?  What does it say about him or his real commitment to the wife?  Scott, your outlook on people, your work, your house, your ex-friends — all of it is colored through the bottom of your glass of beer and booze.

Get help. Neither your article nor your condition are any laughing matter.

Knowing that Scott McNutt is essentially a decent person, I was surprised to read his cutting remarks about me seven years after our split (in Sept. 20th’s “Wedding Bell Bums, Part II” — I’m relieved I missed “Part I”). Can your paper find nothing better to publish than a rumor column disguised as a humor column? Given the circumstances, no response from me is probably best. But McNutt has crossed a line in his article, and I would like to set the record straight.

As someone who equates mowing the lawn with the Bataan death march, it’s no wonder McNutt is overwhelmed by the upkeep of an older house  — a “dump” bought for $30K less than its appraised value in a fast-appreciating neighborhood, by the way. However, when saying I “badgered” him into a purchase, he fails to mention that I encouraged relocating within walking distance of downtown out of concern for his safety... so he could stumble home rather than drive. (If it makes McNutt feel any better, I currently live in an old house in need of much repair but prefer restoration exhaustion to life in a “pasture palace” out west).

Regarding my being “tacky” and “crashing” McNutt’s reception, I was at the Downtown Grill & Brewery on a night of the week that I often went there. At the downstairs bar — where reception attendees were ordering drinks and the party’s goings-on could be easily heard and observed — I was convinced by a buddy of McNutt that my presence as a wellwisher would be perceived as a thoughtful gesture. Big mistake. So big, in fact, that I nervously indulged in a few puffs from a friend’s pack of smokes (a somewhat disgusting experience after many pregnant months of abstaining). McNutt’s remark that I “made [myself] the center of attention” is ridiculous — not to mention insulting.

I’ve observed that heartache and hard feelings seem to linger a long time within the downtown social sphere. And perhaps it’s pointless at this late date to express that I regret causing any financial hardship or interfering with anyone’s celebration. I will say that I sincerely hope McNutt and his wife enjoy the happiness I’ve found in my own marriage.  I really do.    

Now can we move on?