I talked to the ex on the phone today.
Why, oh why, did I talk on the phone to the ex today?
I found out that I'm a one in a million psycho, a real piece of work, a bitch, a liar, a cunt, a manipulator, chronically miserable. He wasted years of his life with me.
I talked with him because he'd told me the dog we had while we were together was sick. He was a very beautiful pit bull, white with blue eyes, and he had a blockage. This doggy is a notorious sock-eater, so I figured he'd eaten a sock. I called back today to check on the dog, my long lost son who I miss terribly, and the dog is ok. But I talked to the ex for hours and hours about blame, shame, loss, sadness.
It's sad, more than anything. It's sad to think about the paths we could have taken. I spent 10 years of my life with this man. They were good years, sometimes, and we shared a lot. I wasn't in love with him for a very long time, but I still care about him, deeply. He was a part of my family, and it's hard not to think of him like family. He hurt me a lot with his drinking and cheating.
It was strange how he kept trying to make the divorce my "fault." It seems like after a year and a half, we'd be done with fault. I'm done with fault. I was in love with another man, and he treated me badly. He's a good man in many ways, but we were bad for each other. It's best that we're not together.
I'm sure it's unrealistic, but I wish that he and I could talk sometimes and be friendly. I wish there were ways to communicate that weren't so tinged by hurt and anger. I wish we could talk a few times a year like I do with other people I grew up with...with my girlfriend Kathryn, we talk three or four times a year usually, and it's always great to hear her voice, great to hear how she's doing, and really healthy feeling.
There's no way to have a healthy relationship with someone you used to be in love with, I guess. It's sad, though. I miss him in a lot of ways. I sometimes want to call him when I'm sick or hurt. I wanted to talk to him when my finger was hurt. I wanted to talk to him when I found the needles. I know I can't call him every time I'm hurting and expect him to care, and I don't anymore. I just wish we could talk, sometimes, and have it not be all overwrought.
I wish lots of things.