Many months ago, the man I loved and I decided it was time to go our separate ways. To be fair, he decided that he did not love me anymore and, in fact, had probably never been in love with me at all. You see, he had stayed because I fell pregnant and he did not have the heart to tell me the truth at the time—God forbid I had a breakdown and did something to myself and the baby!
Well, one interesting night, the truth came flooding out, and once he got started, there was no stopping this usually very reserved soul ... Well, several months later I am out of love, healed, and glad for what seemed like the worst experience of my life. The only trouble is we still live together and it grates my tits more than anyone could imagine.
You must be wondering why I just do not pack my bags and leave. Be assured it’s not because I hope things will change and he will realize the mistake he made. Quite to the contrary, I understand more and more as each day passes that the right choice was made for me the day he decided to rip my soul out of its cavity.
We live together for all the most boring practical reasons in the world, and believe it or not, for now it’s working. It’s saving lots of money and we are tied into the lease, and it works as far as co-parenting is concerned but not for long.
You would have had to have known this man like I do to understand why living with him, post and pre-breakup, was/is a total nightmare. You see, pre-breakup, I was completely disillusioned, like a whole lot of very “in love” folk out there, I thought he would change, actually more to the point, I thought I could change him. I choose to believe that he was a good person at the core and the nasty things he did were just a cry for help, help that me being the loving person that I am was destined to give!
Well now my blinkers are off and every time this person in question does something true to his nature I hate him for all the times I did not hate (the times that I referred to as a “cry for help”). This is justice, but not for me because hating takes up so much of my energy. It’s like I have given up one thing (unrequited love) and replaced it with something equally as damaging (justified hatred).
So I have decided to start what I shall refer to as the “The Ex Chronicles” in order to ensure that this hatred does not consume me, to be able to vent my frustration at an audience I believe may relate or at the very least sympathize with me.
There is a whole lot of history to this story …