Today was the correct day for me to roll out of the sack at 0-dark-thirty and drive up to Coastal Resort Town to pick up the kids while WAW completed her triathlon. And so I did. We exchanged a few brief words, but Themselves were still a'bed, and WAW was clearly nervous -- as I would have been -- at the looming "bang!" of the starter's gun.
But I'm cool and got my Mojo woikin', so I sat and geeked on the iPhone until the kids got up, and we went through the morning ritual, packed 'em up, and whatnot. After eating the donuts I'd brought, we walked over to the beach to await WAW's triumphal return. When she first signed up she was fairly bummed out that there'd be nobody to cheer her on at the finish line, so I committed to bring the kids for her sake, and so I think she was looking forward to that this morning.
And it all went off quite nicely. She crossed the finish line all huff-a-puff, the kids hugged her ("eeeewwwwwwwww!" because she was wet with sea-water and sweat), I snapped some photographs for her (she loves to have her life documented), and we fiddly-farted around while she drank the sports drink and ate the oranges and the other things one does after an amateur sporting event.
As we walked back to the motel, WAW couldn't stop talking to me. Talk-talk-talk-talk-talk. You name it, in that 5-minute walk it must have come out. All idle chit-chat, mind you, but the adrenalin and (what?) combined to turn her into a five-foot-nine-inch Chatty Cathy doll.
At the motel, I gathered Themselves together, shunted them into the bathroom, and prepared to make my escape. Joe Cool, saying very little, gazing implacably out onto the world through my extremely chic, recently acquired, and not-at-all-SP-like European sunglasses. WAW asked could I take one more picture?
Naturally, he says in a Friendy way. And WAW goes over to a palm tree in the motel court, and sort of lounges over it in her best chanteuse style -- as chanteusy, anyway, as one can be in a wet suit -- and looks dead into what would be my eyes, clearly wanting me to luxuriate in her admittedly quite fit and thinnest-she's-ever-been body. Which I was more than happy to do, from behind the darkly frosted glass of my cool Euro eyewear.
Click, click, pictures done, and as we walk back to the room -- 5 yards, maybe -- out of the clear blue: "So what are we doing?" And before I can issue so much as a "Huh?" she lets loose with "Are we going to Fabulous MC#2 because I was really comfortable with her, and I really liked the talk we had after, or are we going to dinner or getting coffee and when should we go and what is it you want to do and I'm not sure because you won't say anything but I thought it was really good and I was just wondering."
Hmmmm. Here kitty, kitty.
So this was it, apparently. This was the moment when I had to choose which path I'd walk. The Pure DB Way? Or the Smiley's Person Way -- f*cked-up and back-a**wards and counterproductive as it is?
And what of the Great European Getaway? Still haven't had time to process it or the things it taught me, the things I learned about me. But that's a subject for a different post.
And what of WAW? What's her game? Is this a preemptive strike? Is there a Lt. Commander @Thinker submerged beneath the placid, if borderline heat-exhausted, exterior of the WAW, launching the MIRVs in a first-strike against my retaliatory second-strike capabilities?
Signore really broke her heart, didn't he? Why don't I feel pity? Or even glee? Why don't I care that she's got her comeuppance? And why do I sort of not seem to care that she's creeping in my general direction, aimlessly cat-like though the creeping might be?
I'll tell you why: Because 8 months of this has taught me the only thing I need to know anymore -- Smiley's Person ain't nobody's second-choice.
"So," says the little invisible man on the shoulder, "here it is. Handed to you on a platter. Every DB'er's dream -- a weakened, chastened, dare-we-say-it-'shamed' WAS who's opening the door and looking to see if anyone's inside -- the Pursued who has turned into the Pursuer. Which way you gonna roll, SP?"
And I knew the answer, knew it better than I knew myself, knew it as if it had come down riding a thunderbolt from Mount Olympus across that post-card blue, Coastal Resort Town sky and implanted itself -- exploded -- on my brain.
I knew the answer to the little man's question to the depths of my soul: I'm not walking-away -- not yet, though I might -- but come what may I'm sure as sh*t not standing still. Which way? The only way I know how, my man -- Mojo to the Max, pedal to the metal, eastbound and down, let them truckers roll, 10-4:
Well, sez I, this isn't really the time or the place to have this discussion.
"Oh, it's a discussion? I just thought. But. Well that doesn't sound good. But I was really encouraged. Last time. And."
I just don't think it's appropriate to go into it.
"Why? What's to discuss?"
You're doing it again. You're fishing. You're doing that lawyer thing where you keep asking questions. {To the kids: "Hey you guys, into the Urban Assault Vehicle. You can fire up your game things."} Wanna fish? Okay, fine. I'm still suspicious of this whole notion. Bottom line -- I don't trust you, flat out. There it is.
"Oh." Crestfallen.
Believe me when I say, I want to have a cordial co-parenting relationship with you -- it's good for them, so it's good for me. Is there more between us? Can there be? Straight answer -- I don't know. I simply don't know. But this is all about me, now. You've had your turn, for nearly 9 months. So anything else we may or may not have, you're going to earn.
What I do know is this -- I asked Fabulous MC#2 what her philosophy was, solutions-oriented or problem-oriented, because I don't want to go through The Story again. I know The Story. I can recite The Story chapter and verse, starting on the day we met and ending yesterday. I'm not going to pay $150 an hour for The Story.
"I agree."
Second, I don't know what the purpose is. What's the vision, the goal? If we go, and I'm not saying we will, and I'm not saying we won't, there are going to have to be new rules -- MY rules. New evaluations. New ways of looking at things.
"Okay. Maybe you should just call Fabulous MC#2 yourself and talk to her. You can make the call. I'm comfortable with her. But you have to be, too."
Fair enough. But looks -- there's a lot of water under the bridge. A lot of things have been done and a lot of things have been said. And I have no reason to believe they've stopped being said or stopped being done.
"How many times do I have to tell you that he's --"
I'm not talking about Signore. But there IS that. And that's a bit of the past that REQUIRES explanation.
"You said --"
I said I don't want to go through The Story. All the wrongs I have visited upon you. If they're that important, I'll just do some PowerPoint slides, and we can distribute them to anyone who needs to know electronically. But Signore requires explanation. For lots of reasons.
"Like what?"
Like you can't get pregnant anymore. And you hate -- you've always hated -- condoms. Which means if we get back together -- and that's a king-hell, king-sized, lightning-strikes-twice IF, from my point of view -- I have to cope with the notion of following in Signore's footsteps, if you know what I mean.
"Oh gross."
Welcome to the real world --
"And what does that mean, 'If?'"
It means this isn't D-bomb Month anymore.
"I get that."
It means I'm On My Path and I'm Rolling My Way, and it's not at all clear to me anymore where you fit on that Path -- if anywhere.
"Wow. Well I guess that's that."
No, no -- not 'wow.' Don't you dismiss my evaluations like that. You don't get off that easy. Huh-uh. You told me you were 'done.' No feelings for me. No sexual desire -- anyone in the world but me, remember? You built a wall against me. I was a nice guy but not your guy. What were you supposed to do, give me a second chance? Not! And what about supporting my useless worthless a**? Remember all that?
"Yes, but --"
And what was your advice to me, right from the word get-go? 'Get over it.' 'Move on.' 'Catch up' to where you were. Well okay -- you got it. You got what you wanted. And now that I'm there, now that I'm caught up, sorry -- you don't get a do-over. You don't get a "my bad." You don't get a free pass. It's Work that wants doing. Maybe you can do that Work; maybe I can do that Work; maybe we can do that Work. But it remains to be seen. Because it's a new day. And we'll have to come to grips with what that means. But we're not going to do that here, and we're not going to do that now.
"Okay."
Okay. We're out. Congratulations on the triathlon -- that's an impressive achievement. Took a lot of dedication -- I respect that.
"Thank you."
We'll talk later in the week. And I told the kids to say "goodbye" to their mom, and I mounted the Urban Assault Vehicle, and away we went.
--------------- So there we are, friends. Will the LBS turn into the WAS? Can the LBS turn into a WAS? Is that even a fair evaluation? Where will SP take this? How far can he push his mojofied luck?
All questions to which I don't know the answers.
But, and this goes right out to the Newbies, I do know this.
This day. This day is mine. What I know today is that I will make it. I will thrive. Almost 9 months ago, I was a wreck, like many of you are. I was desperate. I'd have done or said anything to "get her back." I loved her. Oh, how I loved her. How would I live without her? And the kids? How would they survive?
Now? As the dog days sing their farewell and autumn hies fast upon us, I know that I loved her. And that's a good thing. But it's not the only thing. I've lived without her, and I'm starting to live well. The kids? They struggle from time-to-time, they thrive from time-to-time, but they didn't die. They didn't implode. They didn't spontaneously burst into flames.
In other words....it can be overcome. That knowledge, that secret-which-isn't-a-secret but feels so mysterious, so impossibly unattainable at the start, at the ILYBNILWY, at the moment the walls of your personal Jericho come crashing down? That knowledge is Pure Gold, gold in your hands.
Because once you know it -- and you only know it when you've detached, when you've Lived the Spiers Doctrine, when you've asked, as my Main Man @Thinker has, what's the worst s/he can do -- divorce you? -- once you know it, you've got the power. The world is again yours.
That, IMO, is the Genius of the DB way. By acknowledging you have no control, by focusing on making yourself yourself, you gain that control. And maybe, just maybe, you gain the courage to come to grips with the cruelest and the sweetest reality of them all -- not only "can" you survive, you will survive. And with style.
In other words....it can be overcome. That knowledge, that secret-which-isn't-a-secret but feels so mysterious, so impossibly unattainable at the start, at the ILYBNILWY, at the moment the walls of your personal Jericho come crashing down? That knowledge is Pure Gold, gold in your hands.
Because once you know it -- and you only know it when you've detached, when you've Lived the Spiers Doctrine, when you've asked, as my Main Man @Thinker has, what's the worst s/he can do -- divorce you? -- once you know it, you've got the power. The world is again yours.
That, IMO, is the Genius of the DB way. By acknowledging you have no control, by focusing on making yourself yourself, you gain that control. And maybe, just maybe, you gain the courage to come to grips with the cruelest and the sweetest reality of them all -- not only "can" you survive, you will survive. And with style.
Keep your mojo working, friends.
Thank you SP.
Me 56 H 47 Married 21 years No children Bomb & moved out 4/07 "My feelings have changed" & "I want to live by myself". Ow Bomb 8/07 H filed 6/08 D final 2/05/10
May I say that there seems to be some luck on this Board lately? Thinker, mac-ct, SP's WAW volte-face? And I just had a little ole here kitty kitty moment of my own. Hmmm. That mojo's spilling over.
I agree puppy. I think he is way to focused on her. He should be getting on with his plans of life without her.
He seems to hang on to anything positive she might say that gives him some hope or possibility of her changing her mind. He should not be interested in her plans at all IMO. Let her get on with it. He has to realise he has no control over this situation. There is not a gosh darned thing he can say that is going to make her stop and look up to the heavens and say .....My how foolish I have been !
The only thing that might make her slow up is detaching, disinterest and indifference. Thats a tall order but I see no other way. Nothing vengeful or ugly in this. Just real life consequenses for WAS
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This is a quote from a post I made to you in reply to some advice Puppy was giving you on April 1st. Advice that was repeated and ignored but that is how it happens. You just cant understand it nd get it, you have to live it.
This whole db thing is a process and like your post above you can shout it till you turn blue but those newbies just wont get it.
You have given fantastic advice and your posts are enlightening and there is so much to learn from them.
Ever thought of writing SP cause your good LOL just kidding
