4:59 p.m. - 2012-09-25
I have escaped distrusting marriage and commitment, because I kept my promises -- in my feelings as well as in actions -- long after I should have and long after he told me explicitly he didn't want my commitment or love anymore.
I suppose the sign I should have paid attention to -- the one that contradicted the fact that he was thoughtful and loving and the perfect mate in every other way -- was that he didn't want to get married. "I am committed to you; I just don't want to be committed," he would say. Then he would tell me I was crazy because I couldn't make sense of that in a way that made me feel ok. How can you be committed if you don't want to commit?
The kids and I spent Friday and Saturday, days and nights, at A's. We left on Sunday when she went to work. She worked on Saturday too, but we stayed, and the kids ran to the door screaming her name and jumped on her when she got home. Sunday night she wrote me,
"There was no car in my driveway. There were no kids at the door. There was no girlfriend to hug me and make my shitty day disappear. For a day I had a family and today... I want it back. Please? I know that I can't have you always (yet...) but I wish you were here. My house feels empty and I don't like it.'
So for some foolish reason, I still like the idea of marriage and cohabitation, with her (ok, I admit it, I'm not even going to qualify that with "maybe") even though it is going to involve all the misery of getting divorced from Shithead first.
At least I'll probably never have to deal with the pain of seeing him happily remarried. He tells me he is never getting married again and I believe him. His current GF is much crazier than I am. That is comforting. Happiness may be the best revenge, but seeing him miserable at the same time would be even sweeter.