By: Maureen Clune
Let it go. Forgive and forget. Be the bigger person. Serenity. Yeah I failed all that shit today. Epically.
The Ex finally came to get his stuff. It’s been sitting at my house for six months. I can’t really go into why, but there are reasons. Some legitimate, some not. Attempts have been made, some of it was retrieved, but there were some final big things that I still had. It was a bit of an annoyance, but not a life changer. Ironically, I had just decided over the weekend that his desk made a nice stand for my plants, put them all on there, when I got the call that he and his Dad were coming to pick up his things.
Closure. I’m all about it. I really, truly believe that relationships, even bad ones, happen for a reason. Sometimes I feel that I am on the planet to make all my ex’s better for their next girl friend, but that is probably just my ego. I don’t really believe that guys emerge from the cocoon of us transformed into a shiny butterfly; ready to fly away and be happy with the next person they meet. Naw, because usually I run into them at some point, and they are pretty much the same asshole they were with me. And for me the closure is not that I will never see someone again, rather, I know it’s happened when I really, truly wish them the best;I hope they are happy and I don’t care if I run into them looking disgusting. Well, that last part never really happens. Even when I’m going to see my kids’ dad, my #1 ex, who I am very close to, I try to have eye makeup on. I know, how shallow can you be? This guy saw me pregnant and naked. But I digress. Back to today.
He was supposed to be coming over in the afternoon. I was not supposed to be home. This was good. He could come, get his stuff, and it would be painless. Well, Mother Nature interfered with that plan by sending us a big ass snowstorm overnight. And because the reason he was in town was cancelled due to the snow, instead of the afternoon; when I could have found someone with a four wheel drive vehicle to abduct me, the knock came at 9:30 in the morning. And because I knew today was going to be a snow day I stayed up really late drinking wine and talking to my son. Therefore when the knock came, the dogs barked, I woke up still in my clothes from last night, not looking pretty. At all.
I let his dad in, and told him I would take out the dogs. If the weather is nice I walk my dogs a couple of miles. Even if it’s just okay, I usually walk them for a while. Of course, it was still snowing, nothing was shovelled, and my dogs are not the type to bound through the drifts in ecstasy like every other dog on Facebook. Nope, mine are wusses and wanted to come home immediately after pooping. Great.
So I hid out upstairs for a while because nothing says awkward like having to hide in your own house. Finally, my need for coffee drove me downstairs. By now, I had changed into a particularly fetching pair of sweats with a Paul Frank monkey on them; Hellion’s, probably from middle school, and a giant sweatshirt from a restaurant where my son worked about 10 years ago. I figured it complemented the bags under my eyes and the escaped lunatic hair I was sporting.
I won’t bore you with the details, but the bottom line is we got into it a little bit. It started as a conversation about some stuff I got rid of that was his. That turned ugly, and he went outside to get his tools that were in my shed. I thought it was over, but he came back. To give him credit, he wanted to give me a hug and wish me well. But I wasn’t having it. I’m not there yet. Even though I broke up with him and it ended very, very badly. And I’m not there because I saw on Facebook that he was spending time with another girl.
Now here’s the part where you say, “a-ha. She is not over him, obviously. She still must have feelings for him if she doesn’t want him to be with someone else.” I think it’s a little more complicated than that. He was truly a terrible boyfriend. He started out great, or I wouldn’t have been with him, but by the end, even way before the actual end, I was actively trying to get rid of him. I miss being in a relationship, but I’m dealing with that. It’s just plain old jealousy. He has someone and I don’t. Pretty mature, huh? I don’t want him to be happy. I want him to hurt like he hurt me. I want him to know he is a terrible person who deserves to be alone for the rest of his life. In a pit. With spiders. I don’t want to read on Facebook that he is hanging out with a “pretty lady.” Now, in my defense, we have not been FB ‘friends’ since we broke up, I have not been stalking. But you know how it is, someone sees a post, and of course they tell you and of course you look at their page to see it and then it is discussed for three hours because that is how girls roll.
So, the conversation ended on a less than pleasant note. Something along the lines of, “get the f— out of my house.” Yup, me at my finest. Namaste. When the door slammed I was shakingly angry. Fortunately, my best friend called me right at that moment. We truly are psychic like that. And retelling the tale of the lava lamp made the whole episode funny/painful instead of just plain painful. Of course I have been thinking about this all day. Mostly the part about how hard it truly is to take the high road. We all want to, I really believe that. But our limitations; our jealousies and petty hatreds are barriers to that. I wish I had handled that better. And I can’t tell him that right now. So here is my message in a bottle, my confession to the world-at-large (well, to the dozen or so people that actually read this blog, anyway). The high road called and I turned my back. And sped away in the other direction.
Maureen’s blog can be viewed at 50 Tindering Fishes