We were lucky to catch up with Jaime Jessup recently and have shared our conversation below.
Jaime, we sincerely appreciate you joining us today and agreeing to talk about some very personal topics. So, to kick things off, let’s talk about a tough one – divorce. Can you talk to us about how you overcame divorce?
I’m not big on revenge. Overall, it’s probably a terrible method of healing. But if someone wrongs you and leaves you to die, even in an enlightened age of cheek-turning, some things are unforgivable. I typically don’t endorse long-cons or plots. I did what I did for me, and it was exactly what I needed to heal wholly. I’m not proud of it. It’s not the best thing I’ve ever done. (But I’m actually pretty proud of it and it’s the definitley one of the best things I’ve ever done.)
This wasn’t an easy divorce, after all. After 16 years, my ex had suggested a trial separation, a
chance for us to “work on our differences and get stronger as a couple.” But it was actually a chance
for him to immediately move in with the secret girlfriend. Once I found out about her, I received zero help with the rent I was suddenly footing alone, zero remorse, zero compassion and zero alimony when he filed for divorce. Working two unpaid internships at the time, I had nowhere to go in our new city and literally, physically starved. I was left with nothing but two cats, a 1999 Toyota Celica, and our suddenly very outdated wedding albums. I couldn’t bear to throw them away, or burn them. so I dragged them like a giant cross. “Look at my perfectly preserved pain, complete with cute scrapbook decals!”
I visited my Ex at his work to try and just… I don’t know. I just needed a hug. I needed some kind of reassurance that somehow anything would be OK.
His receptionist was shocked when I introduced myself. Apparently he hadn’t told anyone he was married. Besides, I’m sure I looked scary. I’d lost 30 pounds, my clothes were hanging off me. My gums were raw, my skin was a weird color from malnutrition and my hair was falling out. My ex emerged from his office, gripped my by my tricep and perp-walked me out of the building like I’d tried to shoplift.
I was crying. I was pathetic. I told him how terrified I was living on the street and I just needed a f*cking hug. I reached out and he pushed me away so hard I fell back and lost my balance. As I sobbed at his feet on the concrete, his last words to me were “you’re not my problem anymore.”
When I heard he’d proposed to her, revenge stopped casually crossing my mind, and set up shop instead. Every night, sleeping about as well as one might expect in a Toyota Celica, I’d have horrible nightmares in which I was somehow at their wedding, screaming, punching, flailing – but no matter how violent or dramatic my dreams became, I could never even get them to turn their heads.
I began vague-booking HARD on social media, posting Wedding Crasher memes and a count-down to when I knew their big day was without ever directly mentioning their wedding.
The week before their wedding I changed my profile picture to the Bloody Bride from KILL BILL.
Uma, katana poised high, ready to strike, with the simple caption: “SEVEN DAYS.” Their wedding was 3,000 miles away, and right in the middle of a busy work week for me. Was I really going to spend the time and energy to go disrupt it? F*ck no.
…But they didn’t know that.
Now, etiquette expert Emily Post says, “even if you can’t attend a wedding, it’s rude not to send a gift…”
Which brings me back to those pesky Wedding Albums.
Fortunately, I’m blessed with a widely-spread set of friends back home. Friends within driving distance of a certain upcoming wedding. Friends to whom I could mail my wedding albums and who would place the albums in various boxes for me. The exact same boxes of specific items for which the happy couple had registered.
One box was for a panini press. Another, a toaster oven. For irony’s sake, the third album was in an actual photo album gift box.
Each of the three boxes was expertly, professionally, beautifully gift wrapped in different paper and ribbon, to make sure the couple would get the message not once, not twice, but three times. Tied to the largest, most beautifully wrapped package was a card, from me, which read (in calligraphy:)
“You’re not my problem anymore.”
And suddenly, it was true!
On the big day, one of the aforementioned friends drove 80 miles to the site of the ceremony and watched as my ex meandered back and forth between the Holiday Inn hewas staying at and the resort where the ceremony would take place.
Certain he wouldn’t cross paths with the groom, my personal Jason Bourne timed his moment, stacked my gifts in his arms and entered the resort’s lobby. When his elevator reached the floor on which their reception would be held, (thanks for the details, knot.com!) he approached the nearest person to ask where their gift table would be.
As luck would have it, the Nearest Person was a gal in white – the bride. Her eyes widened at this stranger’s glimmering stack of gifts, and she happily pointed him in the correct direction. He made the drop-off and left, but not before he used my password to “check me in” on Facebook at the restaurant directly across the street from their resort.
My ex never really did think about me much. He’d often turn the lights off in a room I was still in, because “he forgot I was there.” I know his new gal didn’t think about me either – I’d sent an email begging her to just let him come with me to marriage counseling, just so we could talk. She never replied. For all those Starving Nights I spent in the Celica and they didn’t think of me, just this one day I wanted to be in their thoughts. After everything their choices lead to, at the very least, I figured they deserved to look over their shoulders just once.
I’d assumed they’d open the gifts privately, later. Maybe in a few years they’d have some sort
of panini press emergency and get a surprise “f*ck you” from me. I really didn’t care when it
happened- I just liked the idea that they’d be thinking of me – especially after all those nightmares – but never in my wildest dreams did I anticipate a Direct Hit. Much less the following day. In public. In front of 40 of their closest friends and family.
Etiquette expert Emily Post gives the following advice about when to open wedding gifts:
“It is unusual for the couple to open all their presents at a brunch. It is not a shower where the
main entertainment is opening the gifts. There’s nothing entertaining about watching the couple
open gifts.”
I guess my ex doesn’t read Emily Post because the newlyweds decided to open their gifts in public at a massive family brunch the next day. And how did I find out about this? Because my now ex-husband, who isn’t much of a writer, spent his first day of wedded bliss in a hissy-fit TYPING SMALL NOVELLAS ON HIS SOCIALS ABOUT HOW UPSET THEY WERE. MOSTLY IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE ANGRYYYY.
Bless his heart, he spent their honeymoon writing long ranting public messages trying to figure out what happened. I know how long it takes him to write even a thank-you card, which means he spent hours describing every detail of their outrage, trying to figure our how I’d gotten in and out without being seen. Then, once he realized I’d never been near the place, HOW DARE SOMEONE SPEAK TO HIS BRIDE ON THE DAY THEY EXCHANGE VOWS.
…Because clearly wedding vows mean so much to him.
He noted every gritty detail about how I’d completely made ass-hats out of both of them, publicly. I read his post over my morning tea while exhaling a breath I must’ve been holding since he left.
(It’s funny… he never really liked talking about feelings before all this.)
He described how she’d reached for the prettiest package and excitedly read the “It’s your problem now” card out loud to their guests. He wrote about opening all three F*ck Yous in front of everyone.
For the first and only time in 16 years, he gave me exactly what I needed.
After that, I stopped having those nightmares where I could never touch him. Because I’d
definitely touched him. In fact, I’d managed to bitch-slap the both of them from 3,000 miles
away. I Keyser Soze’d their wedding. I Killed Bill.
Appreciate the insights and wisdom. Before we dig deeper and ask you about the skills that matter and more, maybe you can tell our readers about yourself?
Having retired from Corporate Entertainment to focus on my writing career, I’ve been enjoying freelancing script projects and collaborating on live theatrical projects. I have a horror feature in Development presently, and a few projects floating in the ether that may or may not materialize in a post-writer’s-strike world. And if not, I’ll just write some more!
I still perform as a stilt walker and Entertainer at various night clubs and events, but being able to have complete artistic license on who I perform for, who I perform with, and what and how I get to do it feels absolutely amazing.
After 25 years under the stricter umbrella of Theme Park Entertainment, being called in to a venue and asked, “what would YOU like to do?” seems like I’m living in permanent play time.
It’s much more of a collaboration with other artists and I feel so valued and appreciated these days.
During the pandemic and recent writer’s strike, I also discovered a genuine love for creating art from discarded bones – my husband cooks for us all the time, and we always wind up with the most beautiful art supplies. Between that and any “found bones,” (from nature, not from hunters,) I’ve been really enjoying the opportunity to give new life to something beautiful.
I recently tried my hand as taxidermy, too… let’s just say I have a lot of learning to do there. I remember growing up and seeing all my Uncle’s hunting “trophies” on his wall and they always made me so sad. Now, rather than destroy a living creature and put it on display, I enjoy the chance to try and fix something that broke. At least in spirit. They say we die twice: once when we die, and then again when we are forgotten. I can’t bring my critters back to life but I can turn them into art and honor their memory. (Which my husband says is nice but I can’t do it on our coffee table anymore.)
There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?
1) Resilience. I made a very happy living as a full-time top-rostered performer for YEARS. But it took about a bajillion auditions to get there.
2) Shamelessness. Giving a f*ck what other people think isn’t as helpful as one imagines. Take risks.
3) Authenticity. I once attended an audition for “MODELS AND STILTWALKERS.” I was definitely the only Stiltwalker there, but the other girls didn’t know that and they were all eyeing me HARD since I was a very different body type. I walked right up to the vending machine and bought a Snickers bar and ate it in front of them. I was never going to be the prettiest, or the skinniest, but I guarantee I’m the one that gets remember.ed
One of our goals is to help like-minded folks with similar goals connect and so before we go we want to ask if you are looking to partner or collab with others – and if so, what would make the ideal collaborator or partner?
I have a concept for a mixed media ARG (Augmented Reality Game) that I’d love to create for Los Angeles. It’s written, production is extremely doable, but I have zero camera/editing skills. I’d love to link up with someone who wants to use their skills and equipment to help our city feel more accessible, more exciting, and more magical. I love that feeling that anything can happen, at any time, if we’re just in the right place at the right moment. I want to create that feeling and take people on an adventure in their own backyard, If you’re game, let’s make it happen!
Contact Info:
- Other: email: [email protected]
Image Credits
Big Sur River Photo: Hayley Anne Photography
