D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

Something is happening boys and girls. Remember I said that the Hubby got in touch because he wanted a divorce? Well, we’re getting a divorce.

I didn’t message him back after he contacted me. I left it for an entire 24 hours. Well, almost. And then I replied with a simple yet concise “Yeah, sure! How do you want us to sort this out?”

He replied with the usual – he wants me to pay for it because I ran off with a grand and a half of his money. He is still bitter, I can tell. A grand a half? Fuck off. It was more like 6-800 and technically, he’s being a prick.

The agreement we made before he or I went to the War Zone was that, if I left, I was to take the money that was in the account and that was it. I wouldn’t go for anything and I wouldn’t try to take him for any money. That was the agreement. I stuck with the agreement – I took the money that was left in the bank. I left everything in the apartment for him to sell or dispose off as he saw fit, and I literally took my clothes, shoes, perfume, accessories, laptop and a few photos and I ran. I knew if I didn’t leave then, I never would. Even right to this very day I question the decision I made that day. The day I decided that the Big Love was who I needed to be with. I left the Hubby for Big Love. I can’t remember if I ever told you that.

I would never have left Hubby if I didn’t have another man to go running to. I knew that was evident – that has been the case with pretty much every relationship I’ve ever been in. If I’ve got to split, I will only do so once I have the next one lined up. That’s not the case this time with OB but that’s not to say that there aren’t interested parties.

Do I regret leaving Hubby for Big Love? Yes of course I do. I regret that decision every day. I loved the Hubby with everything I had. He took me away from a country that I hated, a family that I no longer could stand, and a life I was very quickly getting very bored of. He gave me hope that there were bigger and better things. We had some very, very bad times but at the same time, we had some very, very good times as well. I guess that’s the case with every relationship – you just don’t remember both sides at first.

For every punch, shove, kick, bite, spit, slam, choke, strangle there was a laugh, a smile, a memory, love. Every time I learned he cheated on me, I felt like I had been hit by a train. Every single fucking time. I started to expect it. I wasn’t disappointed. At the same time however, every time he surprised me with a new pet, a night out for the two of us, or a cheeky cuddle on the couch playing Playstation games, it filled my heart with joy.

I wish I could hate him as much as I say I do sometimes, but the reality of it is I will always love him, in much the same way that I will always love the Big Love. In exactly the same way that I will always love the Lapdog. I will always love each and every single one of them in their own special little way.

The time has come however; it’s time to get divorced. It’s time to grab my old name back by the balls and show it how a grown up does things. I’m going to be a divorcee and honestly, that just terrifies me. I don’t want to have to check that little box on forms. You know the one – single, separated, married, divorced, etc. It was hard enough starting to check the box that said separated without having to worry about the change to divorced.

I don’t know what is so difficult about the final ending between me and the Hubby. It’s not like I have any intentions of going back to him and I’m pretty sure that the same could be said for him as well. I really hurt him – even to this day I don’t think he has any idea of why I really left. As far as he is concerned, I met someone else and did a runner. Sometimes I think about telling him everything that I felt at that time. But then I realize he wouldn’t give a shit and too much water has gone under the bridge.

Back to the here and now and I am now faced with the problem of giving OB back his stuff. I have some clothes and toiletries here – none of which he probably needs and I have a feeling that the only reason he is coming down to pick them up is for an excuse to see me. I feel even more strongly about this now as earlier on today I told him that I would give him his stuff back at the door rather than letting him come into the house. He kicked off.

First and foremost, the people I live with don’t know about our breakup and I don’t really want to tell them about it yet. Secondly, if I let him into my house, he is going to stay and getting rid of him is going to be impossible. I have a thousand and one things to do today and very little time left to do them all in. I have a list as long as my arm and then some and I really don’t have the time to sit and chat with him about our breakup when I don’t have another day off for almost a week now.

I feel bad of course; I don’t want him to think of me as a heartless bitch but at the same time, I can’t risk letting him back in. If he so much as cries, tells me he loves me or tries to fight with me, I’m going to give in and that isn’t fair on either of us. I don’t want him. He’s not my next big love story. I know he’s not – we don’t fit together anymore. His schedule doesn’t work with mine and vice versa. I don’t want the big love story – I just want to have a bit of fun. Something relaxed, cool, calm and non-committal. I don’t want them to be sleeping with anyone else and I certainly don’t want to be sleeping around either but at the same time, I don’t want someone that needs to talk or see me all the time. OB isn’t the guy for me. That’s fine and I understand that. Trying to explain it all to him is proving impossible, however.

I am going to stick with my guns – he’s not coming in. What’s the point? So he can cry and I can feel guilty? I’ve made my decision and I’m determined to stick to it, regardless of how much I miss him and wish things could be different.

I guess breakups are just as hard when you’re doing the dumping as they are when you get dumped. I’m getting divorced and breaking up with someone else all at the same time. Could this suck anymore?

 

2 thoughts on “D.I.V.O.R.C.E.

  1. Pingback: What’s The Best Sex You Ever Had? | Not So Sex in the City!

  2. Pingback: D.I.V.O.R.C.E. – A Year + Later. | Not So Sex in the City!

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