1. Expecting a response from her side to the settlement proposal and, now, a new custody plan.
2. She capitulated on the Monday/Wednesday thing. Tried to pass it off as "I told you in that email I sent later that I was just angry," but of course there was no such email. "Oh well it must have got lost." Okay. Heeya. Whatevah.
3. I popped the "I think we should do 50/50" on her. At first she tried to do as-if: Great, wonderful! I can use the money I save on child support for sitters. I'm all for that. I told my attorney to demand as much custody as the courts will give me!
But see *** below.
4. After Decide-and-Do, I wrote a couple polite emails. Then she called and we had a sh*t-fling (I flung first, by the way -- off my meds, metaphorically speaking). I felt about calling her a "selfish b*tch," texted her that "I apologize for the b-word thing -- inappropriate," she phoned back from her commute, we wound up talking -- nicely, nearly almostly kinda-sortaly pleasantly -- for over an hour.
I learned some things -- some things "too much," as she managed to slip them in in her formerWAWly way --
- (example: "why won't you go to European City?" Well, look, I mean how could I not associate it with Signore il Secondo? That's where you decided to divorce me a year ago. That's where you met SiS this year. That city has bad mojo for me. I'd just soon avoid that kind of thing. "Well I spread my legs here in Coastal City, are you going to move away because of that?")
- (other example: "I hope we'll always be able to be flexible. I mean, what if Signore il Secondo flew in suddenly to surprise me? I'd hope you'd take the kids so I could have company.")
But I almost forgave her for it. Not "forgave" forgave, but ignored-forgave. Like Miss Someone says, I treated her like I would any other mentally incapacitated unfortunate I happened across. And what I learned was just How Not Getting It she still doesn't get it. I mean, Waaaaayyy How Not Getting It. She doesn't "get" why I would still have any negative/sad/disappointed/regretful/pick your adjective-of-rue-of-choice feelings about the D.
She doesn't get that she hurt me -- she "knows" it intellectually ("I know I hurt you") but there is a conspicuous lack of empathy ("but really I don't know why any of it would matter to you").
I learned -- or perhaps verified what I suspected -- that she has become a middle-aged adolescent.
So I'm sort of trying to move from the don't-give-a-sh*t post-funeral-pyre mode into the feel-sorry-for-her-because-really-at-the-end-of-the-day-she's-kind-of-lame mode.
She really believes she's in love. She really believes she can live like this -- FREEDOM BAYBEE! -- for-evah! I'm a cougar! Yeehaw!
Yeah, that's going to be really attractive in about 10 years. Nothing like a mid-50s mother of 2 doing that woojie-woojie grindy-grindy dance you see with the kids on MTV spring break.
But what I really feel sorry for is just how completely out of it she is. She's like the elephant in the china shop -- she just doesn't see the damage she does. MLC, man. It's a real bee-yotch.
For my part, a friend -- who's kind of sassy -- asked me a question that was supposed to sort of cheer me up in a way, but when I got to my private place really, really shook me up in a "man, I need to get even MORE detached" kind of way. Or maybe not. I'm not sure this is so much a detachment thing as it is a "wow, there sure are lots of angles to this" thing.
It wasn't anything I'd thought about before, so the awareness -- both of the issue itself and the fact that I'd not thought of it -- was kind of like Melville's shock of recognition that sends the whole circle 'round.
She asked, "So? Spill it! Is Miss Someone totally better than STBXMRSSP [whom she knows] in the sack? Or completely totally better?" And I gave her the Aw, Shucks, c'mon, that's bitchy, be nice thing.
But when I got to my car, I actually had a little breakdown. Because in my own way I desperately -- DESPERATELY -- wanted the answer to be "yes." And, frankly, I know that in fact it is yes.
But I couldn't say it, not because modesty forbids, but because -- and this is what pushed me over for about 15 minutes -- I don't remember what being in bed with STBXMRSSP is like. I can't conjure up a sense memory of it at all. I know we did it -- we have 2 kids, I was there! But try as I might I couldn't produce even an image of a memory of a sensation. It was really quite disheartening in its way. I can't remember what her hands felt like -- I know I loved touching them, the way they felt -- but I don't know why I know that -- know what I mean?
It's like being a man who has lost his vision. I know I KNEW what "red" was, but for the life of me I can't actually get to red.
Maybe that's stupid. I don't know. It made me sad to think that even memory itself is a victim of divorce.
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*** So after trying to fake me out on the 50/50, by the long phone call it was "I sure did like the 55/45. I sure do think it's good for them to be around you. It sure would be great if it stayed that way." So I'll put that in the Win column (I think).
