He showed up Friday around 2 am. First time since the letters the girls sent. I somehow knew he would or at least, had this sneaking hunch. That’s rather typical, but more interesting is that Lexi somehow “knew” he was coming too. Said she’d felt that all day long and instead of staying at a friends’ house as we had planned, actually decided to come home with me. She told me the next day that she’d had the feeling he was coming all day the day before. I think he intuition is far stronger than mine could ever be because she believes in herself and I’ve taught her to trust that voice inside. So interesting to contemplate the similarities between us and the differences within those similarities due to vas environmental experiences.
So, I really felt he was coming. We hung out for awhile debating whether he could stay or not. I told him Lexi could not see him here under any circumstances. That’s when he went into talking about Lexi’s letter and how he didn’t want to ever “damage” them, but that he’d only been here “once”. For the love of God…are you kidding me?? I said, well, you might only remember once because you’re always drunk, but the girls and I are always sober and we remember 30 times easily. What do you mean “once”?? It must be such a convenient gift to have memories only of our choosing. I sure wish I were so blessed!!
So, after mild debate, I drove him straight home. No sex..only a few kisses in the kitchen before we left and a few in the car in his driveway. I felt really proud of myself for this, but sad too. I would have loved to sleep and wake up next to him….but I chose not to regardless how much I would have loved that in the moment.
And here is where it gets irrevocably disgusting: Had lunch with my boss Monday. She asks if he came over Friday. I said “Yes, gosh how did you know?!” She says she saw him out at the bar. Hitting on everything there that has at least 2 teeth, stumbling around lost, and barely functioning while throwing himself at any female whose path he crossed intentionally or otherwise. My boss said she was disgusted and desperately wanted to go up to him to say,”Sober up and go to her. Stop this ridiculous garbage. You have a wonderful girl who adores you and waits for you. What the hell’s the matter with you? Get over this and go to her.”
Apparently his good buddies he was with just walked around laughing at him throughout this. That makes me so mad! My friends actually care more about his dignity and self respect than his own “good buddies”. How sad! And that’s only because they know of the man he once was. My boss is now thoroughly disgusted in spite of all the wonderful things about him I’ve told her over the years and literally feels sorry that I love him at all. She would now be about the 100th person to say to me directly, “You deserve SO much better than him. You could way better than someone like that.”
And after he was rejected by every nasty and maybe-not-so-nasty(?) bar fly, he came straight to me. He must have walked. My boss said his friends were still there and suddenly he was gone. He must’ve walked those few miles straight to my house. I think of how sad I was that I didn’t hold him or make love to him or wake up with him. …How it bothered me all weekend that I’d had to pass on one of the few deeply happy moments I can still experience (however pathetic it might be). And then I think of the only reason he was here was because he was rejected by everything else and that it sure wasn’t for a lack of trying. And I want to vomit that he comes to me and I struggle with the choice to reject him and I hurt for days afterward for making the “right” choice and not the choice I so want… My daughter was the only reason I found the strength to succeed in making that choice.
Do I dare say that I felt the tinies bit of devotion to him die? I’ve hesitated to even document this experience/information regarding him at all because if it doesn’t die at least a little…then I’m truly the most hopeless female that has ever walked the earth. Yet, my fear that it won’t be enough lingers in my gut, surrounded by excuses and memories of the incredible human being he once was…tempting me to distort it all and color it inside my pink fluffy bubble of lasting love and devotion. It’s not as though this is the first “unsavory” story I’ve heard in the past three years of this nonsense. In fact, it’s one of the more typical. Sadly, there are many far more disgusting. I just feel the need to protect my love for him and not give them the validity of writing them down anywhere.
I do have enough hope this moment to almost believe that yes, a teeny-tiny piece of adoration for him has died. Which I’m praying lasts long eough to give me the strength to see him without the deceptively loving and forgiving glasses I always wear. Maybe even the deepest devotion can actually die incrementally in time with enough disappointment, deceit, disgust, and manipulation? Have I knicked the surface even? Do I dare completely give myself that possibility- that hope?
I desperately would like to think that if he came back to me this very second, begging and sober (too many times he’s done this drunk!), that I would be able to say with confidence and conviction, “I love you with everything in me that is pure and true Dave, but I do not choose to be with you again.”
That is my prayer. To be able to say it and mean it…and not feel like my heart is dead inside my chest as soon as the words come out and I watch him walk away…. If that is God’s will of course.
Heaven help me. Thank you.