As I’ve been saying over the last few weeks, I’ve settled into a pleasant routine here in my ghetto apartment. For the most part, I exist completely separate from Chef and I am growing to really appreciate that. However, I’m noticing a different routine that is forming, and I’m absolutely going to root this one out of my life. It is a new routine Chef and I have developed, and I had to really decide last night to be the one to stop it.
Chef and I can’t make it through one conversation without fighting anymore. All communication has finally broken down, and yet, I find myself trying to communicate with him about how all of his choices and decisions have hurt me anyways! And he, in turn, throws up every wall he can erect to make sure we don’t focus on his shortcomings, instead constantly diverting the subjects back to how I have reacted to the various insults I feel he and his girlfriend have launched at me.
He thinks I over-reacted to all of it. You have got to love the male mind.
And, I, of course, think he’s awfully easy on himself given the different rings of hell he’s introduced to my life. I know. Typically Female.
There is no way for us to meet in the middle here, and the bickering and fighting is worthless. I want to stop it.
Now, in all fairness, I’m beating a dead dog here every time I launch into that tired line of reasoning with him ad nauseam.
Why every single stupid conversation has to come back to all the cheating, lying, sneaking around, and the mind-twisting move of installing his affair-partner into our home, in my bed, and letting her wear my clothes, is beyond me. I don’t even really want to talk about it anymore. And yet, without fail, he’ll make a snide comment about how I cost us millions of dollars by tanking a lawsuit we were in, (and yes, I did do that), and I’ll just have to defend myself by throwing back in his face what he did that made me do that.
And then it’s on.
Another boring, merry-go-round argument, that we’ll just end up digressing to the point that we’re launching rather witty and clever, but also very mean, and somewhat childish names at one another….Again. Then, we’ll withdraw into our perspective corners of Tulsa, and there will be no communication…for anywhere between one day to two weeks, depending on just how below the belt we attacked each other in our last round. It’s pathetic, and I’m sick of repeating this useless exercise.
The silence is peaceful, and just as I’m relaxing into not wondering what he is doing, or how he is faring, I’ll get a text message from him. Some of them have been super sweet; some nostalgic for the days we were happy; some lyrics to my favorite songs; some downright sad; and all of them have the power to soothe me enough that I immediately break my promise to myself to ignore him forever, and respond. I wish I could say I was able to withstand the lure for even an hour. Nope. I’m woefully sappy when it comes to those texts. It’s just disheartening how quickly I text him back, that tiny bit of hope sparking back to life in the back of my brain.
Then, it quickly falls to crap, and I’m sitting there remembering how I could have IGNORED that text, and this latest disrespectful event wouldn’t have happened. Hind-sight is 20/20…dammit, Bird!!
I’ve noticed lately that we don’t communicate with one another well at all. And I’m pondering the question — What do we really have to talk about anymore? Our lives aren’t continuing down the same paths. We aren’t working on a relationship. We don’t have little children that keep us connected. The children that we did raise are adults, and can be contacted directly without me. We have no reason to stay in touch. I miss the way we used to be able to finish each other’s sentences, but that connection is severed, and it is just a form of torture to have to go through these emotional sparing with each other just to come out on the other side with the knowledge that it is simply over. How many times do we need to repeat this stupid exercise? Oh, please.
What would happen if he actually was sorry? Would I welcome him back in my broken heart? Can a dozen love letters untangle this mess he left me in? Would I go back to being the girl I was before if he publicly denounced the twit he lives with now and proclaimed his love for me from the rooftops? No. You can’t un-ring the bell. The rose-colored glasses are off, and I can see both of us much clearer. I’d never be able to pretend I didn’t know the depths of his ability to hurt those he swore to love, protect, and care for. I know what I’m capable of, too, when hurt beyond what I ever thought I’d be able to endure. I’m learning to trust myself all over again…But he’s been introduced to a part of me that he never knew was there either. The relationship has changed from the knowledge of who we are capable of being, and there’s no going back.
There was a time I could have forgiven all of this and set about patching our relationship back up, but that time has come and gone long ago. There’s too much damage done, and daily we stab at each other some more, for no constructive reasons at all. Do I really care if he ever misses me? Maybe. I’m human. But I can live without him being sorry. I can live without him taking responsibility. I can live without him…period. I prove that daily.
Should I continue to let him come and go as he pleases, I’m worried that even the good memories of him will be tainted by this new, sad, angry, sneering version I purposely walked away from…repeatedly. I say Chef left me behind, but I’m the one who left the marriage because of his infidelity, lying, and general coldness. Sometimes, it is good to remember that I was the one who had the courage to walk away into the unknown future.
It’s sad to leave an old friend behind, but you just have to when they cease to be your friend, and are, instead, the keeper of all your demons.
So, today, I’m deciding YET AGAIN to let Chef fade out of my life for good. Hopefully, I’ll be able to withstand the draw of Hope!
— Have a Lovely Friday!!!