Un-freaking-believable. Now WAW and I have been communicating in a fairly okay / not bad / could be worse kind of way, and she'd said something in an email that sort of pecked away at the ol' medulla oblongata. She said in this sort of aside that wasn't an aside the following:
Quote:
And, btw, when I do tell people I tell them that I am getting a divorce or, if they know you, that we are, not that I am divorcing you.
So I called bullsh*t and said that this framing implied an affirmative agency on my part. "We are getting a divorce" means that out there there exists Divorce, and "we" are moving toward it to "get" it. No no no -- I was given a divorce, sez I. Remember how I came in to the kitchen and you were standing there and declared "I want a divorce?" That was laying a divorce at my feet and saying, "Here, hon."
So this is her reply, which -- perhaps appropriately on the 6-month anniversary of Da Bom -- could have come right out of her mouth that day. Square One baby!
Quote:
From my POV, we are getting divorce because you broke my heart. You didn't love me or want me or care enough about me to meet me 1/2 way or any way at all.
Yyyyyyyyep. Right back to no responsibility, no culpability, and oh? That swingin' Signore Schmuckatelli? "A symptom, not a cause." ( )
Then she does this nice, snarky knife-stick that I really have to sort of admire in a "wow you really are a b*tch" kind of way:
Quote:
Fortunately for you, I have no doubt that the next woman in your life will be far more beautiful, fun, exciting, and intelligent than I am and will be more important to you than I ever was so you won't fall into this same situation again.
I ignored it all. But hot holy dam, makes me glad to be where I am. From time-to-time on these threads I've mused on the question, is it the case that Walkaway is Walkaway's "true self" during the process?
And I think I'm going to have to say, "Sometimes....yes."
The person that wrote that email? Blechh. Wouldn't wish that person on my worst enemy -- hell, I wouldn't wish that person on Signore Schmuckatelli.
(Of course, that's not necessary. The Schmuckster didn't wish that person on himself -- dumped her as soon as he'd landed her in the boo-doir.)
Alrighty then. It's really late here in Former Communist Country, my adrenalin from the opening business meeting has just drained away, and that bed sitting there, mocking me, mere inches from where I type is, I suspect, going to win this round.
Has anyone told you people you rock lately? 'Cause you do!
)
