"She Seemed To Care. She Wanted To Play With My C*ck."
The immediate realities of when "forever" ends.
You may generally be familiar with the concept of John Mayer calling Jessica Simpson “sexual napalm,” which I believe was maybe 12–14 years ago at this point. She was apparently “floored” by it, but I mean, do the mental math here. Apparently they had “loud monkey sex” in a hotel in Rome once. Cool. Everyone deserves that shit, ya know?
So, roughly seven years ago today my first marriage ended. If you want to learn a little bit about that arc, here’s a post for you.
I used to work with a woman at a place called Virtuoso named Melisa Lunt. I think it’s Melisa Wight now. Not sure. We haven’t talked in 3–4 years. Here’s the rest of that whole arc.
My ex-wife and I broke up on a Saturday morning, officially, although I guess it began on that Friday night. (Most of it was on me.) This began a weird period whereby we were still living together because she (us?) didn’t have the money to move out immediately, but we were basically non-legally divorced as we lived together. This is March 2017. Hell of a month.
As you might imagine, both of us spent a decent amount of time away from the home, because being there was a bit awkward.
Here's The Letter I Wrote To My Ex's Siblings When We Broke Up
I sent this to her two siblings and their significant others at the time; no one ever replied. I guess I didn’t expect ’em to. Found it in my email and figured I’d post it here. Yo, I’m just gonna try and walk in here for a second, hit this target relatively clean, and then walk out.
Now, this was a weird-as-fuck time in general, because I was gradually realizing during this month that I had very few friends and wasn’t sure what support network I was going to lean upon. I had been in Texas for roughly two years at this point. I had a few friends and some bar friends, but aside from 2–3 people, I wouldn’t say I had anything fucking amazing. I was mostly just a broken drunk, ya heard?
The job I had moved to Texas for, I had gotten laid off a year prior. I was actually doing pretty well as a freelance/contractor money-wise, so I guess that was good. But now with this divorce pending, I started thinking to myself: Do I really need to stay here? I entertained that discussion for maybe six days. I’m from NYC, but I utterly lack the earning potential to live there. That seemed “out.” I contemplated Denver (also expensive), Charlotte, etc. Eventually I stayed. I’m still here. I got remarried. Life is OK.
This part is hard, but stuff is good:
The Inherent Bullshit Of Infertility
People reach the end of years, and naturally they want to think “Well, was this year a success? What was good and bad about it?” Some people don’t do this, of course, and just plow ahead with “the busy holiday season.” I’d argue most semi-aware and introspective people do some kind of audit of the year. If you’re in the thick of raising kids or peak ear…
Anyway, let’s go back to roughly March 5 or so, 2017.
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