I truly believe that divorce can be a blessing. Some people are better off apart. Whether or not The Husband and I fall into this category, I’m still not entirely sure. But my parents? Thank God they’re no longer married.
There were plenty of good times. Vacations, Mario Kart tournaments. But, the sad fact is, I remember the fighting most of all. It was awful. No, they never physically hurt each other, but the yelling and screaming did enough damage.
I remember the night my mom called to tell me they were getting divorced. I was nineteen or twenty and living in Monterey with The Husband. The news was expected, but devastating nonetheless. I stood in The Husband’s arms and cried. And then I got drunk.
I think it was especially difficult since it was my step-dad. The sperm donor and I had (have) nothing to do with each other (I know. I have daddy issues. Shocking.) but my step-dad was wonderful. Loving, supportive, easy-going. And being a part of each others life was a choice, which somehow made the relationship that much sweeter.
(Good God, the lectures. The man had maaaad lecturing skillz. Like, coma-inducing.)
Despite their divorce, my dad and I are still close. I still consider him my dad, he still considers me his daughter. And he’s the one I’ve been living with for the last few weeks.
On Monday, my mom stopped by. I don’t remember why. She wasn’t there long. And I don’t remember exactly what caused it, but she and my dad started arguing about blah blah blah and suddenly I was sixteen again and feeling incredibly awkward.
So, I did the only thing that felt natural.
I went to The Husband.
“Can I stop by?” I texted him
“Sure,” he responded. “Should I be worried?”
I drove over there. I sat on the couch and Luke stretched out on my lap. We talked about nothing important and watched sports. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched sports. Yeah. Still not very entertaining.
But it sure was comforting. Maybe not very smart because now I miss him like crazy and just want to go back (again and again and again), but… it was what I needed at the time.
And then I went and opened my big, fat mouth and said it’d be nice if, after everything, we could still be friends. And he agreed. Except now I wonder if that’s even possible. How can I be friends with someone who provokes such strong, passionate feelings? (And not necessarily good ones.)
So… you’re thoughts? Friends with an ex. Is it possible? Or am I just asking for a second serving of heartache?