- My first gray eyebrow hair.
- My period.
- Double D coming home to tell me he'd quit his job and was moving to Virginia Beach next weekend.
Ok, technically, the whole period thing was not really a surprise...
I did however, sit there stunned as he held my hand and said, "I have something big to tell you" as it was followed with the news. I sit here still stunned as I type this. 'Unbelieveable' (fine. unfuckingbelievable) is the only word I have for what has happened over the past few days.
Where to start?
I had 8 months and 5 days of some of the best times of my life with him. We talked often of how easy everything was between us, how we were just in sync and how fortunate we were to have found one another. We had meshed our lives together; families, friends, living arrangements. We had had discussions on the subject of if we felt we might have the legs for a forever thing.
So, that's what it was like for anyone who's just coming in on this tale. Of now, woe.
When we met he was hours away from visiting his brother in Virginia Beach for a three day birthday trek. He told me early on that his plan was to move there in September. However, he met me, we clicked and were serious pretty quick, so by September/October after consideration he decided to stay in Ohio, and with me.
While I was obviously pleased about his decision, during our discussions in the fall about it, I had flat out told him that going to Virginia Beach for me, at this time was impossible due to family situations and other responsibilities currently in play. But, that I wasn't wholly opposed to the concept, and that in the future as long as we were as happy as we are that it would definitely be a possibility for me. That I'd grown to care for him and it would hurt my heart a bit, but that he was in charge of himself and ultimately the decision to stay, or go was entirely his. 'Cause that's how I roll. I'm a pretty much, just say it type girl, ya know?
Flash forward to Friday. Horrible, horrible Friday.
I'd never known him to be anything other than respectful, kind, thoughtful and loving. Not one second of the every day we'd spent together since July. Until that night.
Obviously, I was so hurt that he had made this unilateral decision without
We spent the next 48 hours in some hazy land of me trying to understand what the fuck was happening and why, and him talking but never really providing a reasonable explanation of how we were ending up here.
He spoke a lot of words about, "you and the kids being the only things that make me want to stay", and about "us having so much promise together", and about "love". The only thing that kept flowing through my mind was, "...and you've picked a fucking place over all of those things, and me." He even tossed out sentences like, "we can do the long distance thing".
But at the end of the day actions speak louder than words, and really, all of those words still said; I picked a fuckin' place over you, oh and by the way, without even bothering to fucking mention it to you until 7 days before I go.
And there's nothing on the up and up about that. No matter how you cut it or try to spin it.
(Dear Cold hard truth,
I see you. You suck. I hate you.
Exhausted, I stopped trying to figure out the why's and focused in on the what he'd done.
And what he'd done was most certainly made a decision, and a decision on how to handle it in a way that was decidedly unkind, and as I later put it to him, "showed nothing to me but a lack of regard, feeling or integrity". And that regardless of his words, that his actions and behaviors displayed that he, "couldn't have made the decisions [he] did, and handled things in such a way to be so hurtful and have taken my feelings into account. A person just could not put this into play and come from a place of love. This came from selfishness, cowardice and shortsightedness."
I don't want you to think he's a bad guy. I mean he did do me a favor, as he pointed out when he said, "at least I didn't come home and just pack up one day." Sooooooooo congratulations Double D:
My actual response was that, "right, cause that's what's makin' you honorable here..."
Yep. At least you didn't do that. Gold fuckin' star. There were 67 thousand other ways you could have made it to Virginia Beach, all of which started with a conversation with me about it actively being back in your mind as a desire, and no longer a "in the future" thing instead of what you ultimately did do.
By Sunday he'd made arrangements with a few of his friends to come get his boxed up stuff to be moved, and was having lunch with one of his kids. I told him to tell them how much I'd miss 'em.
I was at home thinking about the entirety of the situation he'd created.
At that point, I'd been put in a corner. A position where I felt my only options were to be a doormat or a bitch. (A craptastic rock and hard place to be put into, btw.) Then one of my favorite quotes crossed my mind, "you deserve what you accept". And I knew that I didn't deserve anything that had happened the previous 48 hours. I knew that I had to get with the program of the new standard of conduct he had established two days ago, that because it was a done deal-- as much as it came completely out of the blue and sucked and made zero sense, what else can ya do? It is. Ya know?
I felt like the only choice I had in the whole unpleasant and unnecessary situation was to decide if I was going to have him staying here, for the next miserable 5 days, me vacillating between being sad, intermittently angry, and wanting him to hug me up and say he was making a terrible mistake (the doormat option) or (the only other option that was left) and just going ahead and making the decision to put an end to this nonsense now. The bandaid was coming off due to his actions, I was left with deciding to rip the bandaid off, instead of slooooowly tearing it off. I made the choice not to sanction his actions, not to send the message that what had transpired was in anyway, by any one's assessment, ok. My heart didn't want to make that decision, but my brain knew it was the appropriate thing to do.
So there's fucking that.
Oh, and Saturday? Well, Saturday I somehow was startled and kicked something under my desk and broke the nail out of my, 'this little piggy went home' toe. So. Ya know. There's that too. Just in time for flip flop season and my toe nail may be actually falling off.
Wow, things are