“I’m so over you Sarah Marshall.”
“You do look fat in those jeans, Sarah Marshall.”
“My Mom always hated you Sarah Marshall.”

I’ve been seeing these signs all around town – on the sides of the MuniBus, on top of taxi cabs, and on billboards. I started wondering, what did thisSarah Marshall do? She must have really been a heart-breaker. Imean, for a guy to go to such efforts to buy up all of the advertisingspace in the city to get back at his “X.” I was quite impressed withhis revenge tactic (although I’d love to hear Sarah Marshall’s side ofthe story). I don’t think any guy would think about dating her afterreading all of those signs. I decided to google it, and I soondiscovered on www.ihatesarahmarshall. com, that the ads were some sortof guerilla marketing tactic to plug a new movie. The website is set uplike a blog, and details the poor guy – Peter Bretter’s - break-up.Quite clever.

If you've ever gone through a tough break-up, you understand thependulum swing of emotions you go through as you transition from beingsomeone's "other" to being on your own again. It feels borderlinepsychotic at times. There’s the longing to get back together withdreamy visions of reuniting like you've seen in way too manypredictable chick flicks. Then, there’s the anger and bitterness thatcreeps into your pores, setting your mind to devise some kind of sweetrevenge. I know. I've been there.

I remember during my first big break-up, I was trying to scheme up a"revenge" that would make me feel better. I knew even then, it wouldonly be a temporary fix – but the temporary satisfaction was all Ineeded at that moment. My "X" drove an SUV - the kind that had a tirehitched to the back of the car with a nice leather tire case that said"ISUZU TROOPER" in big white letters. One night, while it was prettylate, I drove over to his house with black electrical tape in hand. Myplan was to tape over the "T" and cover up part of the "R" so it wouldread "POOPER" instead of "TROOPER." I thought it was brilliant, andactually, quite funny. I could picture my "X" driving around town,hanging out with the high school kids in his youth group, not knowingthat they were all laughing behind his back as he drove away. So, I satin the parking lot of his apartment complex, waiting to make my move.

What was I doing? I thought to myself. I could hear the level-headed side of me talking me down from this idea. But it will be so funny. And he really IS a pooper. It's going to make me feel better. I retorted back to myself.

So there I was, having a conversation with myself while picking at theend of the electrical tape. I told you – it can feel pretty psychoticat times during a break-up. As I was having this deliberation, hisroommate came home and pulled up right beside me. Our eyes met. I sliddown in my seat and pressed the “disappear” button. The buttonmalfunctioned. I waited for him to walk into the apartment, hoping andpraying that he wouldn’t walk over to ask what I was doing theresitting in a parked car – in the dark – alone. Or, tell my “X” that Ihad turned psycho and Fatal Attraction on him. I placed the tapein the passenger seat, and slowly made my exit.

After my attempt at revenge, it took me a while to let go of thebitterness and the hopes that God would teach my “X” a tough lessonsoon. My nasty sarcasm about the break-up was the one thing I couldcontrol. And, I must admit, it did make me feel better at times. Butwhat I didn’t realize was that it was slowly eating away at me. I waspraying for a forgiving heart, but my bitterness blocked the path toforgiveness. It took me several months to figure this out. But once Icut my sarcastic remarks “cold turkey,” the road to forgiveness becameclear and the weight of my anger was lifted from my shoulders.

“Sweet revenge” wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I guess I shouldcheck in with Peter Bretter to see if he really is moving on with hislife in the healthiest way possible.