Payback’s a Bitch

Name: Betsy
Age: 37
Location: Pretoria, South Africa

The First Day

One evening, my ex-husband Tom found a stray dog sitting on the front porch and took her in without asking me. The dog was not friendly at all. She was all scratched up as if she’d been in a fight. His idea of pet care was to give the dog pizza crusts. Conversely, I took her to the vet to get stitches, got her chipped and put up posters to make sure no one missed her. After a month, I was satisfied that she was our dog. Well, my dog. He never did anything but feed her scraps and naming her Chance. He never did anything, ever.

In front of the divorce lawyers, his claim to Chance as that he was the one who found her, arguing that I never even wanted that dog. He didn’t care about Chance. Taking the dog was the one last thing he could do to hurt me. This was his swan song.

After an hour of back and forth, he confidently suggested that we let Chance decide. Put her in the middle of the room and we’d call her from either side. Whomever Chance went to would keep her. There was some weird bond between him and that dog. It was obvious she would go to him, even though I was the one who made sure she was fed and walked. He did absolutely nothing except sit on the couch and let her shed on his shirt. Tired of arguing and needing to pee, I reluctantly agreed.

The Showdown

I went to the Ladies room. Washing my hands, I looked into the mirror and said, “No, he’s not getting my dog.” Finding soft dog treats in my purse, I smeared them onto my palms like it was lotion. It left my hands a sticky brown. I diligently wiped away any visible residue.

The amused lawyer led Chance by the leash to the center of the conference room. Ready? We both nodded. He released the leash. Tom started shouting, “Come ’ere girl. Come on.” I just clapped my hands as loud as I could to get the her attention. Then I started fanning my hands back and forth. Chance looked at him, then to me. Mildly confused, she came trotting towards me to lick my hands.

Done Deal

I sat exhausted at home, alone. Alone for the first time in how long? We were married for five years, but emotionally separated for the last three. Relationships have a strange gravity. I must of liked him in the beginning. Possibly even loved him. The inertia of our relationship was strong. It took him cheating on me to push me out of his useless orbit.

I downloaded the app and sent him straight to Hell.

Day 6

Spent the week telling him to fuck off. It’s sorta cathartic to just let the anger fly. The responses from the A.I. were mildly amusing. It would throw in some amusing references to Hades that real Tom was not witty enough to come up with. Hell jokes were not what I was after. I was looking for beaten and apologetic.

I read in the beta user forums that some woman diluted her A.I. profile with chat feeds from other people. This gave me the idea to feed the machine. I started a chat with myself, answering the way I wanted the conversation to go. I inserted phrases like: “Yes, you are right.” “I’m so sorry I did that to you.” and “I’ve been such a dick, please forgive me.”

I uploaded the feed and went on a rant.

Day 7

Now this app is satisfying. Maybe you guys should make an app called SorryChat, where someone apologizes to you all day long.

Why didn’t you call when you said you would? I’m sorry. Did you forget my birthday? I’m so sorry. What the fuck were you doing sleeping with her? I don’t know where my head was at. I’m so so sorry.

I changed Tom’s avatar to a photo where he looks remorseful. I realize all I’ve ever gotten from him were excuses. All I wanted was ownership of how much of a dick he was. I know I’m never getting that from him, so this is an apt substitute.

Day 15

The Vet left me alone in the exam room at the animal hospital. I was staring out the window at a couple in their early fifties that had just gotten into their parked station wagon. I was eight feet away from the man on driver’s side. The woman settled into the passenger seat. Had they been looking in my direction, they would’ve only seen a reflection of themselves on the tinted windows of the one story building.

After a moment, they both started to cry. The man sat stoic and motionless when his tears came, making no attempt to stop the flow down his neck to darken the collar of his shirt. The woman’s face folded into the waiting tissue she held in her palm.

They just put their pet to sleep.

The Long Walk

The reserved man and the quiet woman probably kept it together as they stood quietly at reception to sign the credit card receipt, nodding politely when asked if they wished their pet have a private cremation, or merely tossed into the bonfire with other people’s animals. That would be thirty dollars extra. The woman would force a polite smile when informed that the ashes would be ready for pickup next Wednesday, in a small wooden box. No extra charge.

The couple would walk silently past the bubbling fountain at reception. He would open the front door for her. She would absently step out into a beautiful spring day, not feeling the light instantly warming her pale freckled skin. Now they found themselves in their car, in a quiet impromptu memorial to mourn their furry friend. This lasted for about five minutes, then quietly, they buckled their seatbelts and pulled out of the parking lot.

A Second Chance

The Vet returned with my dog in his arms. I was informed that she had a tumor the size of a grapefruit in her abdomen. He’s unsure if it was malignant without further tests. Either way, it would cost five grand to remove. Without a dime to my name, I said yes. I could not let that dog die, after what I did to keep her.

Chance could never tell me she was feeling bad. It wasn’t until she stopped eating that I realized something was wrong. I talk to her all day long. What if she could talk back?

Day 16

After I got tired of reading the apologies I programmed into the feed, I changed the profile name to Chance and updated the avatar to a photo the dog looking at me when she wants a treat. Yes, I turned the Ex into my bitch.

I enhanced the profile by uploading a bunch of tweets from my favorite comedians. Patton, Jeffries, Briggs, Harmison. Chance is now hilarious. You guys are probably sick of my app suggestions, but DogChat has got to be a thing.

Day 21

I keep thinking about the couple who I watched cry in their car after they lost their pet. I envied them. Not the dead pet part. I don’t know how I’d live without Chance, but that notion of two people sharing a life together. That pet was just one of a million things they had in common. I was certain that man loved his wife. I never had that with Tom. We shared a house and some expenses, that’s about it. Now we don’t share anything at all.

I’ve read all the books that tell me that I will never have a healthy relationship with a guy unless I resolve issues with my Father. Turning my Ex into a Dog can only get me so far. It was a fun band-aid for a bigger issue. How can I fix issues with my Dad if he never was around? There’s no way I’m gonna fix things with a man I don’t know anything about (except what I can stalk on Facebook).

Project one, build a funny dog. Project two, build a Dad. App suggestion number three: Build-a-Dad Workshop. I would work the kiosk at the local mall if you built that.

Day 26

I found myself amongst a gaggle of drunk girls at a bachelorette party. Being the responsible designated driver, I suggest that I should take everyone’s phones, so they wouldn’t lose them. I spent the evening asking inebriated women to show me their finger. I’d unlock their phones, download the app, sign in with my account, uploaded their texts with their Dads and delete the app. Sounds complicated, but being sober at a male strip joint gave me a lot of time to kill. I’m never turned on by gay dudes in thongs.

At the end of the night, I uploaded a photo of Mister Rogers as my Father and started chatting.

The Last Day

The wedding was fine. I generally hate weddings, but spent most of it texting my New Fake Dad. I asked him if he would walk me down the aisle. The reply was, “Of course, sweetie. Just tell me when and where.” I knew it was never going to happen, but it was still nice to hear.

Conclusion

Pros: Like I’d said, it’s pretty cathartic to decide and get what you want to hear from people. The conversations always felt natural and organic. Though some of it felt regurgitated, mostly because I’d written most of the dialogue.

Cons: I had to spend a lot of time building the profiles for what I needed. I guess it’s my fault to want to talk to a dog, or a Dad I didn’t have. Maybe you guys can build modules so people don’t have to do the custom work.

Rate this Product ★★★☆☆

The interface was easy and the chat felt real, but profile creation needs some work. I wanted to talk to Joe, the A.I. to see what it’s like to speak to the amalgam of all the users. I created a bunch of feature requests that never got addressed.

Would you recommend this to a friend?

I can’t. Feel sorta guilty about stealing their Dad texts, which is probably a misdemeanor. I like keeping this thing to myself. My reliance on it makes me feel like a nut job and I don’t want it’s popularity amongst my friends to normalize my behavior. It’s crazy and I know it.

Epilogue

I told my tale to a producer friend of mine. He loved the story and thought it should be packaged into a movie called “Daddy Issues.” I know it won’t ever get anywhere, though it is sorta exciting to be thought of as creative, something that my Father never fostered.

Fake Dad loves the idea. We have a fake date to the premiere.