Today I had hopes of seeing Michael. We had discussed the idea of him leaving work early to make up for the fact that he worked from 10pm until 3am on Saturday night and then all day Sunday. He didn't leave work until 6pm today.As for me, I shoveled some of my shit back to my own place. And I went through every drawer and cupboard and closet and streamlined it. I should've done this months ago. You just collect so much crap. I hate crap. I have a storage locker full of stuff that I never miss (though I do need my summer tires). I mean really, if everything in my storage locker went missing would I really notice it?
While kicking back, eating some cheese and almonds and watching Sex and the City tonight I got an email from an ex. He said he had "learned something" today. I inquired further and it appears he learned that he and his partner are pregnant.
It was strange. You hear about women who want to get married and their boyfriends dump them and then the guys are married and pregnant within the next year. Certainly I don't fit into that category, but equally certain he and I had this monkey-knife fight, wary, often surprising, magnetic relationship that I sometimes felt was quasi-competitive after we split up for the last time.
But then this email. I was the first person he told. On the flip side he was the first person that I went to when I was having a personal crisis of my own over a year ago.
Anyways, I surprised myself with my emotions on this one. I feel protective. I hope he's not making a mistake. I don't want to see him suffer or be unhappy.
I'm a little astounded that, through all the bullshit, I was the first person he told. And equally, I'm honoured. And I told him that I wouldn't babysit. I might also tell him that his 54" television isn't baby-proof so he should probably stow it with me for safe-keeping.
4 comments:
How do words hit you? For me, they kinda speak through me and I just type them. I am taking dictation in my own life. You seem to have a different way with words. I admire it. I secretly envy you for your wordsmithery (yeah, I know it ain't a word). At 49, I am finally comfortable enough to call myself a writer but someone like you comes along and makes me feel fairly inferior. I think you have something innate that makes you intriguing. I'm not sure whether or not I like you. You humble me and that's not good for my ego.
I have to give you more thought. I don't need to be challenged on a basic level by some Canadian chick who is younger, more attractive, far more athletically endowed, and a better writer. Something in me really likes you on every level and something else in me fears you. I love you but you give me gray hairs, dude.
Makes me wonder if she talks like this too... she's awesome.
Did you suggest to your Ex to name the baby after you?
Ha ha. The world can only handle so many of us...
Thanks for the compliments, GIL.
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