Small Calamities

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The Old Account
March 6, 2007 | permalink

I've had a couple of conversations with my Ex-Wife in the last week or so. The first one (which was initiated because of a financial matter) was really exhausting. It lasted about 40 minutes or so, and the first half was pretty much a quick re-cap of all the terrible things we did to each other. After that, though, with some of the tension relieved, it was a lot more civil and in some ways even a little nice. For a long time she was my closest friend, and I guess some remnant of that is always there. I'm not saying it was all roses and giggles, of course; far from it. But there was something... comfortable, maybe, is the right word; but then again that's not quite right... but talking to her, in a real conversation and not just a barrage of acrimonious accusations was, well, it was alright. Which is better than I thought it would be.

The second was this morning, for about ten minutes. Civil the whole time, and even more of the strange sensation of familiarity and comfort overlaid with tension and mistrust. A weird, confusing combination. This conversation was mostly about that. We haven't spoken at all in well over a year, and we haven't had a civil conversation (let alone two!) since I can't tell you when.

I don't claim to have been the perfect husband. I think anyone I have been involved with can tell you that I am overly reserved with my feelings and emotions and give an impression of indifference. And after she left, and I found out about Whats-His-Face, I was so angry and hurt, I could hardly stand it. I froze her out, eventually, rather than deal with it. Which, no matter how angry I was, was shitty; I'm not proud of how I behaved, no matter the provocation.

I don't know where I was going, Gentle Readers; I lost my train of thought. Which, I suppose, sums it up. The whole thing has been weirdly unsettling and confusing. I don't want to be with her, or indeed, even meet up for coffee... but the past is all stirred up, runnign around in my head and part of me, despite all the betrayal, actually misses her, which I find simultaneously completely understandable and completely galling.

*sigh*

I don't know how it could be any different, though, really. I'm beginning to believe that no one ever truly leaves, that once the threads of people's lives are woven together they never truly unravel completely, and the colors and patterns that they introduce stay with you, in some fashion at least, until the end. So you had better figure out a way to incorporate them and live with it.

Posted in Musings & The Past & Women
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