No, it isn’t what you think. But it’s pretty damn close.
***
I finally moved out of my shared apartment with my ex-almost-husband and into my own condo. With this, came the dreaded come get your stuff conversation. It started off a simple phone call
Hey, I’m moving and need you to come and grab the furniture pieces that you want to keep or I’m throwing them out.
And it turned into him helping me move the small things the movers didn’t get to into my new place.
After he helped. me put my sofa in its new place we both sat down in the very familiar seats we sat in while we were together. Me, sideways facing him, sitting with my legs curled up in a ball. Him, sitting facing forward with his hands folded between his legs leaned over like he’s going to give me the we need to talk sentiment all over again.
I miss you.
Of course he does. We were together for all of our adult lives and some of our teens.
I didn’t think I would miss you.
I stared at him with a look of fear. Where is this going. What does he want.
But I’m better without you.
There it is.
This was who he is. He is someone who thinks he is always better on his own. That he doesn’t need anyone but himself. The same guy who left me in the dark, and blamed me for it.
I like who I am without you.
I see who he is — or at least what he shows on social media. Knowing that social media is all a facade. I don’t like who he is without me. He is a party guy, but the douche kind. He posts videos of him making out with different women, groping them while they laugh as if he has no respect for them — he’s doing things and going places he hated, drinking excessively and using the most vulgar language.
Now, I’m not a prude — but it makes him look bad from an outsider looking in. And I’m sitting on the sofa with him, listening to this stranger tell me he misses me.
I lean further into the couch and exhaustion comes over me while we sit in silence and I fall asleep.
***
I wake up 3 hours later, covered in a fleece blanket, with my head in his lap and him rubbing my head. Like old times. My jump up is worse than it has ever been and I’m frustrated with the fact that he let me sleep. Much like he used to. I get an overwhelming sense of dread and regret at the same time. I also feel guilty.
The guilt I didn’t expect. I looked at him and as my eyes water, I tell him he should go. I don’t tell him why. Just that he needed to leave.
Who would have thought that a nap would be so impactful and guilt ridden.
***
Before he left, he asked me something I hadn’t thought about.
Do you miss me?
I don’t miss who he he is, I miss who he was. I miss the connection we had. I almost thought I would never have a connection like that again. Which, I won’t. But my connections now are different. They are deeper, more meaningful. They have more substance. All of this because of the trauma he put me through.
At the end of the day, it was all worth it.
—
This post was previously published on Medium.
***
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