A couple of weeks ago I received, much to my surprise, a funny email from the Ex. Basically it outlined in deadpan detail how I had not lived up to our divorce agreement by failing to provide him with mixed CDs on an ongoing basis and that he would be contacting his lawyer should I continue to withhold music. I say surprised because this was the first time he'd contacted me in a tone that implied some healing had taken place and that maybe he was inching closer to a headspace that would allow us, as we had previously discussed, to be friends again. Or at least something more than merely civil.
We met on a patio yesterday evening, had a few drinks, and caught up. Things were going alright - the chat didn't feel too forced, there weren't any awkward silences, we laughed about stuff, I wasn't glancing at my watch every two seconds. We even talked about our dating lives a bit. I gave him the CDs I had made him as well as a book he had loaned me.
This is where things started to derail. I had also loaned him a book (it was his idea, actually; the thinking was that we would exchange an interesting read every few months or so - perhaps to have a fall back topic when the uncomfortable silences arose? I wonder) and he read it, but he wasn't sure where it was. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "It might be in Portland, or it might be lost altogether. If I find it I'll let you know." Not a huge deal to me - it's just a book - but his completely flip attitude about it's missing-in-action status pissed me off. If you borrow something of someone's, it's generally customary to at least apologize if you lose it.
But this is the Ex we're talking about. I know how he thinks. He's not sorry about it. He actually couldn't give a rat's ass. So why apologize when it would be a lie? Better to be brutally honest.
I didn't make a stink. It's a book, whatever. The conversation improved. He talked about how he was finally about to date someone, and then it got all weird again. He was completely cryptic, talking about how small the community is, and he seemed to be implying that the person he would be dating would be someone I know fairly well. He seemed to be feeling out how I would feel about that.
"It's fine. I'd be happy for you. Date whoever you want, it doesn't matter if I know them, whatever. Of course, now I'm dying to know who you're talking about."
He wouldn't tell though. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough. He was very odd about it though - it makes me think I will be surprised when I find out. Or perhaps it's someone I've slept with or something, which kind of grosses me out but doesn't surprise me in the least.
At one point I mentioned how, for the first time, I had actually been looking forward to seeing him. No anxiety, no palpable sense of dread hanging over my head.
"Oh, that's funny," he said. "For me it's completely opposite. This was the first time I didn't really want to see you."
Figures. Me Scorpio. Him Taurus. Opposite.
"Actually," he added snarkily, "if you had just given the CDs to Earl to give to me and I didn't have to see you at all that would've been just fine by me."
Come again?
"I'm sorry if that sounds harsh or whatever but it just made no difference to me."
I felt like I'd been punched. Yes, I left him, and with good reason. Ten months later and now he decides to get all bitchy queen about it? Had he not finished telling me a mere ten minutes earlier how he was finally over me and was really truly moving on? But we spent six years together and for the most part, by his own admission, they weren't the stuff of nightmares - after sitting and talking warmly for two hours, suddenly I'm completely inconsequential? (With the exception of my CDs, of course). I found the abrupt change in his attitude...well, offensive.
I resisted the overwhelming urge to throw the remainder of my beer in his face and storm off.
"I don't care if you're brutally honest," I replied. "That's good. I'm just insulted. I didn't think getting together now and then was a big deal."
"Well that's just the way I feel. Sorry. We should've been more realistic when we talked about what our future relationship would look like."
"I thought we were realistic, actually." You're the one suddenly changing your mind, you fucking baby.
"Well, you seem to be acting like you want to be best friends or something."
Ha! "I never said that. I certainly don't. It's just that we know each other better than anyone. I don't think just because we don't have that relationship anymore that we can't be friends, that we couldn't hang out now and then with a group of people. It seems stupid to throw it all away."
It went on like this for awhile. He gave me his usual spiel about how he doesn't want to hang out with me in groups of people, he can only do one on one, blah blah blah. He'd rather have his memories and leave it at that. Which is fine - he can do whatever he wants, obviously. I won't deny it's a hundred percent easier to stop all semblance of contact and to simply say hello when we run into each other and leave it at that. But I think that's pretty sad. Aren't we mature enough to maintain a friendship that works for us, to hell with everyone else?
I guess I envisioned something along the lines of Gwen Stefani's "Cool" - take the best of what we had shared in the past and shape it into something new. To still be able to show the affection we still have for each other and not worry that other people will construe that to mean we are somehow weak - which, frankly, is what I believe Wayne thinks. I dumped him - even if he wants to, other people might think less of him for still admitting he cares about me, so it's much better to behave like a wronged child and put on the tough guy act and shut me out altogether. He always did care too much about what other people think.
I feel so duped. I thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd finally evolved.
I also feel somewhat vindicated, though. I'd sort of forgotten that one of the primary reasons I left him in the first place was because he can be such a smug asshole. And I was fully reminded last night of just to what extent. Well, you know what asshole? You can be a dick to me, or you can have copies of my amazing mixed CDs, but you can't have both.
Go buy your own fucking music.
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