This is part seven of the project I am working on for National Novel Writing Month. Here are the links to the first sections.
Who Broke Your Heart- Things You Might Not Know
The End of a Marriage
A 21st Century Break Up
"I Don't Want To Kiss My Husband Ever Again"
Once Upon A Time
Hanging Out With Hairy
I pulled into a parking space, turned off the motor and cursed out loud. The weather outside the car was perfect. Blue skies and just enough heat to make you feel warm were all the reason I needed not to be here. It is a good thing that my skull isn't transparent because if it was my dear friend Harold would be able to see storm clouds heading his way. With any luck he'd be struck by lightning.
Ok, that is probably unfair. I was semi responsible for this meeting. The company had a funny policy about paying people only for the work they did and not for work that they might do. I had a long conversation with one of the bookkeepers about that one. We got stuck riding an elevator together and since I haven't a clue what pasty faced number boys are interested I talked about paychecks.
We both learned something that day. He found out that a two minute ride on an elevator can feel like a week in cleveland and I found out that I can babble at length about anything. I know, you already knew that.
By the time I had walked into the office I had figured out that the topic of my next submission was going to be why marriage was the devil's greatest invention. In my experience it was the closest thing to hell that one could find. Before you go off half cocked you need to understand that the classic definition of hell is wrong. It is not a place of fire and brimstone.
Hell is seeing the love of your life unhappily living with someone else, but pretending to be happy. Hell is being granted a taste of the most incredible relationship and experience of your life and then having it taken away. It is like being seated at a table with the greatest feast you have ever seen. The food looks and smells incredible. You look around the table and see that the other guests are having a culinary experience that borders n the orgasmic. Just as you are about to join the festivities you realize that your arms are tied behind you and your jaw is wired shut.
Hell is the real world and that is much worse than anything Dante can come up with.
Well, if there was ever any question about my being a bit bitter there isn't now. Life is sometimes funny in a way that makes you laugh and sometimes in a way that makes you want to cry.
The first time I had my heart broken was hard. The second time was rough and the third time was ridiculously painful. It was bad enough that I swore that I wouldn't fall in love again. And for a long time that is how it went. Various women came into my life. Some of them tried to break through the walls that I had erected but none really succeeded.
And then one day she did. One day the wall was up and the next day it was a pile of rubble. It scared me. I was frightened and excited by it all. But she took me by the hand and promised to just love me. I think that was part of what caught me, the "I just love you" bit. It was so simple and yet so powerful.
She did and so did I. We just loved each other. It is a cliche, but it felt like a dream. Somewhere along the way we got lost. If I didn't have my meeting with Harold I might even take the time to tell you how and why. At least I think that I would. Can't say for certain because I don't know if I understand it.
So in the time we have before I go off to the meeting let me fill in some details. We fell apart, sort of. Not sure that we ever stopped loving each other, just found ourselves in unfamiliar territory and went separate directions.
She got married and I got married.
I thought that I was in love. I really did. It seemed like it. I guess that it must have felt like it or I wouldn't have done that whole ring thing.
But here I am today, ringless, wifeless and until the other day very happy. Things were great until they told me about her. I was perfectly fine and now I am not.
Now I find myself on fire for a woman I haven't seen or spoken to for what seems like forever. Now I find my heart pounding for a woman who probably thinks of me as just another ex. I am sure that she thinks of me fondly, but what are the chances that she feels like I do.
And this sort of talk is part of why I am pissed off with my daughter and the friends. I didn't want to look at this corner of my closet. I didn't want to explore the lost ruins to see if any treasure remains.There is a reason why you let sleeping dogs lie.
Sigh. Well, I'll put this frustration to good use and go needle the hell out of Harold. If he doesn't go off on one of this interminably long speeches I still might get to the beach.