Whoa, Whoa Whoa...

I had an odd conversation last night. What started as a simple "are you coming to the writers group?" email concluded with me telling a high school girl:

Well I’ll leave the poor “hawt” emo boys alone then. Besides, they’re like picking on hairless dogs. It's just too easy, and really they’re so much fun to watch on their own.

I should say before I continue. I'm not the one who finds emo boys "hawt." I don't even think I could spell that word that way without the parentheses. Oh, I may be the worst speller this side of the Colorado River (and here in SoCal that's saying quite a bit), but I will not intentionally butcher or fabricate a word in that way.

Pshaw!

I'm not even sure how I even got into the whole "emo boy" conversation. I'd been innocently talking about story characters and how sometimes it's fun to treat them like pin cushions. To run amok, killing characters you've grown to care about without even batting an eyeless socket. I'm a humane slayer of characters.

I suppose some of us treat our relationships the same way. Mowing through people who no longer serve a purpose in or lives, just to bag them up with the rest of our grass clippings. Sometimes being cast aside feels like being-mower bait. I've heard plenty of people ask about the feelings of the spouse who mulched their feelings.

"Is it possible that my vermin ex feels a thing? What about taste? Can they taste poison? What about swim with toasters..?"

Believe it or not, the answer to each question is "yes." I only have experience in one of those things, and it's not the one that gives coffee or bathwater a funny taste.

Despite the reams of paper I've filled with the heinous crimes of MyUnwife, I know that she feels. What's more I know she feels for what is lost between us. I don't say that to throw it in her face, or to vindicate anything along the way, I say that because I knew it was true before she left. I wear the scars she left like a kitty cornered. She lashed out because she hurt. You don't hurt for things you don't care about.

Does that justify it? Well that depends on which one of us you ask. We're both quick to the buzzer.

"OOOH! I know this one Alex!"

Whatever I might say about MyUnwife, I'd like to believe divorce is a path she wouldn't wander blithely. It's a course she'd map out and plan for misadventures along the way. When she takes time to plan, she's good. So I'm sure she believes it was the best, if not the only course of action.

If you've been reading my blog, you already know how I feel about that. I'll leave that scar alone today, thank you.

So as to the feeling question, yeah. They may not show it, and they may not even know that it's there, but when the frantic battle for household supremacy ends, if they're honest with themselves, they'll see that there are feelings. Whoa, whoa, whoa, feelings. And yeah, those feelings will be just as welcome as me finishing that song. But I can put it on a CD for you to send your ex if it makes you feel better. I'm a giver. If you hadn't given their CD player to the dog, they could play it.

And when it comes to MyUnwife's feelings, I still try to be a giver. "Why?" you might ask. Go ahead, ask. I'm waiting. You, in the cubie, stop staring at Hippo and Dog singing on YouTube and ask. ASK! Thank you. I'm glad you asked.

Because.

Ok, yeah, there is more to that. I care because no matter who's right or wrong, there was a time when we both shared our feelings. I've let that go, but that doesn't mean that I need to be bitter about it. And just like the hairless dogs and "hawt" emo boys of this world, there's no joy in picking on her feelings.

I'm fine now, but I've lost so much getting here. I honestly hope she doesn't have to share in any of that pain. I wish she didn't have feelings.

Ok, maybe not. My spiteful side is laughing even as the words appear on my monitor. Still, there is a small part of me that sneaks out from time to time. My "hawt" inner emo. he's the one. He wishes he could protect her feelings. He's the one who breaks into song late at night:

Whoa, whoa whoa…

Yeah, I'd give him to her if I could get her to accidentally take him.