bringing up the past

I've noticed a couple of (straight male) friends are hanging onto the past.

My past.

I've been divorced for nearly 12 years now and rarely think of my ex. I mean, months go by. Whole years. No hate, just moving on with my life and relieved and happy no longer to be partnered with the person and fairly certain they feel the same.

But these two friends can't seem to let go. They both stayed in touch with the ex, even though they were never really friends with the ex to begin with. One messaged me a year ago to say the ex was moving out of our former shared house and he (the friend) had met up with the ex and taken a few boxes the ex found while cleaning out the house. And could he (the friend) drop by with the boxes.

Well first of all, hell no.

And second of all, HELL NO.

I still haven't accepted the boxes. As far as I know they're still in the friend's garage. I'm mildly curious about what's in them but clearly there's nothing I've needed in the past twelve years. I'm more curious why this friend felt the need to do this. I offered, he said, when I asked why the fock he would even put himself in the middle of something so dumb. I wanted to help you both out. 

Friend two messaged me a month ago to tell me he'd had a dream about me and the ex and he wondered what it meant. It means you need to leave the past behind, I messaged back. I do wonder though why my friend felt the need to tell me about this particular dream, why dredge up someone I have been willingly and deliberately unpartnered from for a dozen years? 

A small part of me thinks there's some judgement lingering in there, some minor male outrage that I dared separate from someone who had done me no harm, but just whom I, a woman, no longer loved or needed to keep around to provide for me (and the ex did offer). There were no kids involved, no abuse, no financial misdeeds, just the pain of accepting the emotional truth and moving on. 

Not one woman in my life (that I know of) stayed in contact with my ex, none of them bring him up or keep shit he's been holding onto in their garages. I guess that is the metaphor. I've let go but my guy friends keep hanging on.

marking time

So this month marks my four year divorce-aversary. I don't feel like the same person!
Well, because I'm not the same person.
I feel grateful for the friends who have stayed with me along the way, who haven't judged me or dropped me because I'm not the person I was back then. I feel like I have become more myself than ever before.
Three years ago this weekend I hung out with my fella for the first time. Neither of us was looking for more than a fling. I'm pleasantly surprised that we are still having that fling.
I try not to get too nutso with the anniversaries but some things need to be remembered.
*
Speaking of, a look back at the past month! I zipped down to L.A. at the end of February for a weekend hang-out with four women I traveled with last year. We rented a house on a quiet cul-de-sac near Venice Beach and spent a couple of days laughing, talking shit, drinking too much, checking out some clubs, biking up to Santa Monica for Mexican food and tequila shots. Catch up time with four funny, gorgeous, generous girls made my soul feel good. A few days after I got back, my friend Jane held a reading event at the Alibi Room for the Mineral School, her soon-to-be artist residency near Mt Rainier. On a rainy Monday night in March, some friends and I went to see B.B. King. Our hometown funk favorite Ayron Jones and his band opened. Sadly B. B.'s musical dexterity has declined with old age, but there were moments of brilliance and his band was tight tight tight. The following weekend I met up with the same friends to see Tango Alpha Tango at the Sunset, but we lingered too long next door having drinks and then couldn't get into the sold out show. Le sigh. My family was in town the following weekend; I hope they had fun. I was exhausted! We checked out the Columbia Tower (free courtesy of a sweet friend); brunched at Blue Star, and the Hurricane; did the Theo Chocolate tour; dined on cupcakes from Yellow Leaf and Flying Apron; had seafood and a veggie burger (moi) at Duke's. While everyone else hung out at Pike Place Market, gramma and I posted up on the 4th floor of Pacific Place, where she people watched and sipped chamomile tea. Later in the month a friend celebrated his birthday at the Garage with pool and beer. Last weekend I met up with a fierce homegirl for happy hour at the Azteca in Burien, then hung out with Ms Hammy, playing Uno and singing "Let It Go" punctuated with fart noises. I hit the road to the coast on Saturday, cleaned up fallen trees and excavating the septic field. I can't wait to get back out there with a chainsaw and a tent.

filthy with metaphor

Today is my one year divorceaversary. These things mess with your head a little bit.
How to account for the past year?
I've had more fun than I could have imagined. I've felt more deeply, including the kind of soul-searching loneliness I also didn't know was possible.
And guess what, I felt it, and I survived. So that's something.
This graffiti caught my attention. Two different artists, I think. One riffing off the other. Making commentary on a jagged line.
Some things have come full circle already today in a random, unplanned fashion. I heard the same band in the early hours of the morning that was playing the night things changed for me last year. I hung out with three of the same people. Someone gave me a ring that broke, and had to be pried off my finger with needle nose pliers. My middle finger.
The day, so far, has been filthy with metaphor.

I get scared

I got in a lot of solid thinking time last week. It was a 5 hour drive from DEN to my grandma's house, the damn rental car didn't have an iPod jack, and all we could get on the radio was turn-or-burn preachers, sports talkradio, and America's Truckin' Network.
So, I drove and thought.
I've been scared a lot lately. My marriage is over, I moved out of my house, the future feels uncertain. When I see a happy couple I get the urge to smack them. Sometimes there are long lonely hours to fill. I go out plenty, don't get me wrong. I've met a ton of cool people and even gone out with a boy or two.
But still, I get scared. That may just have to be okay for awhile.