You've been married for eleven years, have had two wonderful children with a wonderful man. You have a job you love, friends you never thought you'd ever be able to hang onto after the way you treated them back when all the messiness happened, and you can pretty much spend a lot of your time marveling at how perfectly things have turned out for you.
"I made a vow though," you explain to your husband as you load the clip of your handgun. "I told him if he ever set foot in this city again, I'd blow his fucking head off."
Your husband pleads with you to just let it go, that he was just a bad boyfriend.
"There are degrees of bad," explain. "Sometimes, you can be such a bad boyfriend that you deserve nothing less than a messy death. Seriously, he convinced me that holidays like Christmas were for the intellectually weak. He deserves to die."
Your husband will ask you if killing him is worth having your daughters visit you in jail.
"Yeah," say. "Yeah it is. If I don't kill him, our little girls might think it's okay for a guy to be as bad a boyfriend as he was, that you should forgive boyfriends like that when in fact the reality is boyfriends like that surrender the right to house their brains inside their skulls. I mean it, he used to videotape British sitcoms off of PBS, the ones with the wigs and the screaming."
"Videotape?" your husband will confirm.
Nod. Tell him you had a whole library of VHS tapes of that one in the department store.
Your husband will ask you to at least wear a vest.
"No need," say. "He thinks violence is for people who went to public school."
Your husband will say, "I think I'm starting to support you in this."
Kiss him and tell him he's the best man there ever was, then strap up and go shoot your ex-boyfriend in the face.
Happy Martin's In New York Day!