"She Seemed To Care. She Wanted To Play With My Cock."
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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