Thursday, March 22, 2012

Hello Life

Every time I go through a break up, I go through a phase of self-examination which is really a self-hatred fiesta.  I have been celebrating how much I suck with a full blown self-loathing jubilee the last few weeks.  A couple of days ago an ex-boyfriend (not LDB) interrupted my merrymaking with an IM.  We talked about why I hate him (I don’t have weak emotions.  Ever.  About anything.) which of course turned into a talk about the break-up.  He said he had lied to me when we broke up.  He said he broke up with me because he couldn’t be good enough for me at the time.  When we broke up two years ago, he had told me he didn’t want to see me ever again because he was in love with his ex-girlfriend.  He is either lying now or was lying then (my guess is that he’s lying now), but that’s really not important now.
 
I had a moment of realization after catching up with him and finding out how much he has not grown up at all in the last two years.  I suddenly realized that all these asshole exes, who broke my heart in various painful, self-esteem killing ways, did me a huge favor.  None of them were really the right fit for my life.  My life consisting of work, and homework, and smelly children (my own and other people’s), and coaching, and soccer/basketball/baseball/gymnastic competitions.  Most of my exes' lives consisted of working, drinking, and no kids (this includes my ex-husband who pretended like he didn’t have kids and headed for the bar every night).  Drinking.  There was a lot of drinking going on with them.  A lot of drinking in crummy, run-down, shit-hole bars.  I am severely discontented when I am made to sit in dark bars watching people drink their sorrows/boredom away.  I can take a two hour tour of that bottomless pit of human existence once a year and then my tolerance runs out.  If only these exes had a hobby or two besides drinking, but oh, they didn’t, and they don’t.  When you’re in your 30s and your only life pursuits are work and tequila, that probably isn’t going to change.
 
I guess the point is that I remembered very suddenly that I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself about being an unlovable mutant.  I remembered that being alone with my life is better than being with someone who likes vodka more than they like me.  Being alone is better than being with someone who says they “would rather die” than go to the zoo with my little family.  Being alone is better than being with someone who says “kids should be seen and not heard.”  Being alone isn’t so bad.  Especially when it’s 80 degrees in Chicago and the flowers are blooming.  Hello Spring.  Hello sun.  Hello crazy kids to try and teach soccer to.  Hello life.  Here we are again, just you and me.  Nice to see you again.

3 comments:

  1. Agree totally with the whole "it's better to be alone" than with someone who loves tequila and shitty bars more than anything else. Life is too short to waste on someone so absorbed with something so meaningless.

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  2. You aren't alone. You have 2 excellent companions who love you unconditionally and aren't old enough to even think of sneaking booze yet. (YET.) Sure, it might be nice to have somebody to have sex with and take the garbage out but I wouldn't waste my time hoping that a douche will turn into a prince. P.S. If somebody told me they'd rather die than go to the zoo with my kids, I'd murder them--at the zoo. When you are busy and happy (mostly) and enjoying the life you do have, you will attract decent people to you. When you turn off the neon sign that says "I'm not worthy, something is wrong with me, nobody would want this" then the losers won't be able to find you.

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  3. I like Molly's plan on how to deal with people who say they'd rather die than go to the zoo with your kids. That's a solid plan right there! --Jason

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