Stuck with Mickey

MyEx had an ex before me.  Nope, I was not her first.  She was my first. That’s right, I was a divorce virgin before I met her.  I don’t say that to point out semaphore flags I should have seen prior to the seminal “I do” moment.  I just say it because that’s the way it happened.  If I’d seen them, would they have scared me off anyway?  I mean what good is that information?  If you go to SoCal, you should see Disneyland.  If you don’t, well then, whose Mickey Mouse snafu is that? If you get married, to somebody who’s divorced, you should ask some questions.  I did.  The answers seemed appropriate.

 

Have you ever noticed that about creating exes?  After a divorce, or a bad break-up, everybody tells you about all the things you should have seen--all the telltale hearts lub-dubbing like a sub-woofer from under the bed. The blond in Friday the 13^th should have seen the axe coming, but she didn’t.  She was busy screwing around with a guy in the duck hunter’s cap.

 

You know, you wouldn’t have that blade protruding from your skull, if you had just listened for the creepy music, and not had sex with Donald Duck.

 

At least she had people yelling at the screen.  Who yells for us?  I didn’t have anybody saying, “ya know, Rob.  She’s a woman, and they divorce.”

 

The signs are there, but only if you know what you’re looking for, and not all signs say anything more than “caution.”  See with MyEx, her previous divorce was something different. She married somebody who wasn’t right for her.

 

Oh, you can stop your giggling now, thank you very much. That statement isn’t as obvious as it may seem. 

 

See, some people bring out our best others bring out our worst.  I once dated a woman who made me very insecure.   MyEx never did that.

 

In fact, she and I managed the one thing I never thought was possible:  We carried on a long distance relationship for almost 2 years.  In that facet, she brought out the best in me.  We felt comfortable, whether together or apart.  In that, we were a good match. 

 

Now obviously there were other problems, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing a divorce blog, would I?  But see?  Even divorced, that still works for us:  I haven’t been with her in over a year, and I’m very secure in where our relationship stands.

 

It’s that couple dynamic; it’s an epoxy.  You know what epoxy is right?  It’s 2 chemicals that mix together and create an adhesive.  Epoxy can do everything from patch bathtubs, to mend fiberglass--if the mix is right.  If the mix is wrong, then it’s lumpy oatmeal floating in week-old fish broth and that drips through the cracks, ruining everything it touches.

 

That’s the way people are.  We all crack. We all break. A good blend will heal that.  A good blend will hold together under the stress.  On the other sticky finger, a bad blend drives things apart and makes us agitated. It depends on our resin resolve and our hardening agent partner.   That means that in the wrong instance, a good person can be the completely wrong person.  It’s nobody’s fault, it’s just not a good chemical mix. I’m a good guy, but I can list of several women I don’t mix with.  We heat, we fizz but in the end, we’re just tuna-smelling oat paste.  It happens.

 

In some cases the reaction is violent, in others it doesn’t react at all.  So what signs reflect this?  None that I know of, you just try for the blend and see what happens.  Yeah, I think that’s the way they discovered chlorine gas too.

 

But chemical responses are tricky.  They don’t always happen immediately, sometimes it takes time to cure.  Yes, I know, so does venereal disease, but I promise, this is a good cure.

 

Some compounds that don’t seem to react, just take time, and yeah, some compounds that do seem to react, may not have enough to make them work.  They get warm, but still just equate to stink and paste.

 

So now I know, you want to get personal.  I see the questions dripping from your lips.  Go ahead, wipe them off, they’re starting to pool on your keyboard.  You’re thinking, “Have you had one of these tuna-paste meetings recently Rob?  Is that why you’re mentioning them?”

 

You answer is this: Yes. I was in my local coffee shop, getting my usual coffee, and the store manager cut in front of me to tell the barista that the district manager was there.  The manager whipped around to see me glaring at her. She didn’t blink. She didn’t apologize; she just whisked off, broom in hand, her tuna perfume wafting in her wake.

 

See, it doesn’t have to be long-term relationships that leave us lumpy, but the long term ones we can’t escape.  In my coffee case, I could have wandered off without my caffeine.  In marriage, well I’m just stuck there, epoxy or not.

 

That’s what makes marriage so hard though: sticking together, because in all relationships, even the strongest bond loosens.  It’s easy to say, “well of course they divorced,” when watching a bad fix fall apart. But it isn’t always as easy as that and some blends surprise us all.

 

You can’t judge a divorced person by the scarlet “D” on their chest. MyEx had an ex before me.  I saw the sign, but all it said was “caution.”  Someday, I’ll want to get married again, I hope that that woman will accept that I had an ex before her and that she won’t let that alter our chemical bond. Because, I’m not just about my divorce, in the same way that SoCal is not just about Disneyland. Don’t tell that to Mickey though; he’s one bitter mouse when crossed.

You know, you wouldn’t have that blade protruding from your skull, if you had just listened for the creepy music, and not had sex with Donald Duck.