So it's almost been three weeks since MyWife loaded up the truck and moved to Beverly. (Yes, I'm quoting TV songs right now. It'll get me in less trouble than the movies. I think) Time to check in with my psyche and see how things are going. Time to see the state of the divergence.
So Rob, how are you?
I'm fine.
No really, how are you?
I'm good.
Wanna cry?
No.
Sure? Here's a Kleenex?
I'm ok—
How bout an onion?
No?
BAM!
OWW!
You're crying!
Of course I am! You broke my nose!
It's funny how some friends and outsiders watch you like a NASCAR race, looking for the wreck. So far it hasn't happened with us, but the traffic's light, the roadway is pretty clear of debris, and nobody's tried to pull a Dirk Dastardly (go check your old cartoons). Who's winning? It depends on how you gauge it, I got all the quaint charm but she got the new shiny glow. I got the Psychoses, she got the Neuroses. Really it's a wash for the rubberneckers out there. Most disappointing. I keep expecting somebody to throw warm pennies on our ice rink.
Emotionally all is well, except for my minor breakdown last weekend, but I'm not sure I can blame her for that. That was more about issues I had before we met; she'd just served as a salve to keep it from festering.
That's kind of the hard part, so far. Relearning to be alone. There's a freedom, but there's also the added responsibility. Anything goes wrong, physically, spiritually, or emotionally, and I'm the only one there with a wrench. There is no backup; I can't call in sick. It's kind of scary, but I know I can do that. The stuff around the house has proven to be tricky though. There is no more division of labor. I do it all, which gets frustrating because some things don't get done. You saw pictures of my office, but you won't see my back yard. There is no time. Other things I can shuffle to late hours. I work until 3am most nights, so I can do stuff like laundry, or wash dishes later without worrying about who I wake up.
How's she doing? As best as I can tell, pretty good. We haven't communicated except for a few emails since the great cable debacle. She sounds different. I'm not sure if it's cold or careful. Either one is perfectly reasonable: neither of us knows the other person anymore. We're a play performed by unrehearsed understudies. I'm sure if you asked her, she'd say "he seems fine. I'm not sure if he's being cold or careful."
No she wouldn't say that. She doesn't know me to be careful, except for with money. Since there no money, there's no careful. I'm a dancing fool.
Yeah, I'm getting used to this. A lot better than I expected. I hear everybody else's war stories and see the scars, and I wonder how I've come so far with only a few bruises. I know, I'm tempting fate, but so far I've been blessed, even by my own standards. Go ask a few of my ex-girlfriends, I can be a blithering idiot. Ok, that's the wrong quality, MyWife will agree with that, Blathering? Yeah that's probably more where I wanted to be. No, each night I go to bed and thank God that each day has been without drama.
So in short, I guess I'm doing fine.
Thanks for asking.
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