August 25, 2012
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Testing new wings in a new life should make me apprehensive. It’s “all on me”. H can hardly manage his own finances, much less lend the least bit of support for the care and feeding of his own offspring. I say nothing, but set my jaw in a tight, thin line, and then I handle it all. I take extra shifts, work overtime. When my male friends notice, they react with alarm, until I explain that my ex husband doesn’t have the means to support his own children. Is he unemployed? No. Is he unwell, and unable to find side work? No. I coldly explain that he finds money to buy his vodka, that he’s able to go out to bars with friends, that he takes his girlfriends out. One friend is comical when he reacts, “But I don’t understand. He doesn’t have money to buy clothing, shoes, school supplies, but he can go out to bars with his girlfriends?” I shake my head, “He only has money for himself.” My friend looks shocked, “But those are his children! That’s not right!! That’s not fair!”
Life isn’t fair. H is a deadbeat. He’s an alcoholic and mentally ill person. I didn’t see the alcoholism. I didn’t realize that he was mentally ill until we had been married for so many years. As we trudged through that swamp that was our divorce I comforted myself and the kids by saying, “He’ll get better. He’ll get this single dad thing down and it will all be fine. There’s a learning curve.”
I was such a naive creature. He proved me wrong by sinking deeper into his alcoholism, by becoming more and more belligerent and nasty. He resorted to deceit and falsehoods to try to make me look like an unfit mother. He set about getting his revenge. I was amazed at the lengths he went to in order to make me miserable, to punish me for filing. He didn’t want me. He’d made that clear years ago.
My male friends look at me differently now. I’m an odd bird, one who they look at sideways as if they don’t know me anymore. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t have a problem admitting that the support all falls on me or if somehow H’s deadbeat behavior disturbs them. They may even think I’m a bitch for telling the truth. To them I offer no apology. I gladly call a spade, a spade. Devil me shrugs, “Maybe they underestimated you. Maybe they’re surprised that you’re as self sufficient as you said you could be. Does it matter?” It doesn’t. It makes me feel very alone, and very undesirable.
Damaged goods.
I look at my super short fingernails, broken off in my recent move. Ugly hands, but once I get the house organized I can take care of them. I notice my toenails with their chipped polish. I could care less, because I only painted them for D.
D is long gone. I can’t remember when he held me last. The pain is gone, but the loneliness leaves me melancholy. It occurs to me that I don’t want to try to find someone to date. “Fear?” Angel me inquires, “Or is it just apathy?” To be honest, it’s a little of both. Suddenly, I wonder if there is someone out there who is right for me. Too many of the men who show any interest are too young, or they’re complete blithering idiots. G would be more than happy to date me, and I’m certain that it would be an interesting ride. Sexually, he doesn’t turn my head.
Oddly, no one does. I chalk it up to fatigue and the cautious eye of a woman who is picking up pieces of a broken heart. I don’t think I’m picky but I wonder. My conscience suggests G as a possible conquest. He’s brilliant, a doctor with multiple degrees. He’s also not wound tight, and can be as controlling as H. He would be someone who would take me interesting places, who would always have interesting conversations with me, who would never borrow money from me or try to move in my house. It doesn’t matter though, because I know it wouldn’t work. It’s just me.
It doesn’t help matters when I find an email from D in my inbox. It’s benign. A reminder that I’ve left things behind that he’s been kind enough to box up. He only wants to know if I want them mailed to me or would I rather arrange to meet. I resist the urge to tell him to shove the box up his ass sideways. Instead, I respond neutrally, without warmth. I give him no options but to toss it away. Then I replied to his empty greeting, wishing him and L the best. I didn’t answer his inquiry the way he expected. Later, he would reply simply, “OK”. He couldn’t reply any other way.
I told J about it on the phone. He had been out with D. In fact, they had been out fairly often. I made a mental note to quietly begin disengaging J from my life. It’s a loss that I’m willing to take. I’ll give J back to D, and then I can fade away into the shadows. In J’s mind, D and I will always be a couple. L and D are really a couple.
I’m alone. Lonely, yet far better off.
