I just finished watching “It’s Complicated” with grandma. First time I’ve thought about W (my ex-husband) in a wistful time-goes-by kind of way.
I know it must be different for him. He doesn’t drive by our old house every week, hang out with the same friend, etc. He must not think about me as often as I think about him.
In pondering that sentence, I think it’s kind of a miracle that I think about him as little as I do! But it still must be more than he thinks about me.
Probably at least once a month, I tell our story to someone. That he is married, has two sons, and that I am very happy for him.
I know it’s a line, perhaps the divorce company line, but it’s true. I believe he is happier now than he was with me and it gives me great relief to think this. But tonight, after seeing that movie, I have a strong desire to not just think it. I wish I could know. I wish he and I were in contact and civil and I could see him happy with his wife and family.
(I almost wrote new wife, but erased it. She has been married to him longer than I was, and has made more of a life with him. At this point, I would never presume to call myself first anything in his life.)
The sons were almost enough to rid me of guilt over the divorce. I, and in turn he, were adamant about no children. For him to do a complete 180 on the subject proves I was not the woman for him.
But, knowing another woman pushed his children into this world is still not quite the spiritual cleansing I am looking for.
I no longer look back and wonder what happened. I’ve come to the conclusion I won’t ever know. For better or worses, I view the marriage like any other break up. Worse because of the commitment and time spent together for sure. But like so many men I look back fondly on, I chalk it up to timing, miscommunication, and different needs.
(That I view my marriage in the same manner as a 5-month fling was a huge clue to me that I was not exactly cut out for I dos)
The miscommunication was astounndly brilliant between us. Another reason I stopped seeking answers of our demise. I already know that there will be my side, his side, and the truth. It was painful for both of us in the very end to realize we could not get on the same book, let alone the same page.
I would like to look upon his life, not as an ex, and not exactly as a friend because even I am aware that is awkward and boundary crossing, but as an acquaintance. I wish we had had reason to stay in touch.
I wish I could see him smile at her.