Y is for Year

June 16, 2012 - I left Ex three years ago for two weeks because I was too scared to go home.

June 25, 2012 - Ex turned 37 years old.

July 19, 2012  - Should have been our fourth anniversary.

July 29, 2012 - Our divorce has been final exactly two years.

August 14, 2012 - It has been four years since our honeymoon.

This time of year is hard for me. A lot went down between June 16 and August 14. I was thinking it was only one month until now, because, as I am typing, it is clearly two, not one, month. I think that last sentence wins the prize for shortest sentence to contain five commas...
                            
It has been hard lately. I have been told to be nice to myself and give myself a bit of a break because of all the anniversaries that are happening. But I am my own worst enemy. I am not nice to myself. Not at all. No one (okay, no one except for my dad and Ex) have ever said anything as horrible as I say to myself. I feel I should be improving and working on things and becoming a stronger, better person. Instead, I come home from work and do nothing. And I do mean nothing.

Look how many years have passed! When will I get over this? How long will the pain be so sharp?

This time of year is not good for me. It has been five days since my anniversary. It is five days until the anniversary of my divorce.
                              

I want to cry.

X is for Xeranthemum annuum

...and Xeranthemum annuum is a "mostly widely cultivated species of everlasting flowers having usually purple flowers (dictionary.com)". Just in case you, like me, had no idea what that meant.

It was a plant in the botanical gardens that Ex and I went to in his home state. We had flown in and then my mom drove down to meet Ex's mom. That trip was idyllic. We went to the Grand Canyon, the boatnaical gardens, hiked several mountains and deserts, and spent hot afternoons in air-conditioned museums. Our moms hit it off and we had a great time.
                                   
Every visit after that was horrid. You see, that was the only time we went to visit his mom before we got married. Then, once we got married, he didn't like me anymore. Some of our worst times were at his mom's house, since he had a lot of unresolved anger towards her that he liked to take out on me.
                                        
I'll tell you more of those stories later. This is just a short story about a pretty little purple flower we saw at the botanical gardens way back when Ex still treated me like a human being.

W is for Wedding

Our wedding was beautiful. It was at the local arboretum in their small, stone amphitheater by the lake. My uncle sat on a stone near the top and softly played his guitar while the guests arrived. The sudden heat wave broke and there was a light breeze and just enough cloud cover to keep everyone comfortable. It could not have been a more perfect day.
                              
The reception went very well, also. The decorations were lake-themed with goldfish in bowls with tiny lake pebbles and cattails. The cake (which I decorated the night before) looked great, and the chocolate fountain I had borrowed from a friend was a huge hit.
                                     
The Italian restaurant that catered came through in a big way, and everyone had plenty of good pasta to eat. After eating, Ex and I cut the cake and served the guests, creating another opportunity to talk to everyone. It was perfect.

My friend is planning her wedding and she asked what the most stressful part of mine was. I told her the truth - wondering if the groom would show up. If only he hadn't.

V is for Velocity

Ex was a civil engineer. He often told me that he barely graduated and that it was the hardest thing he had ever done. I was always supportive and congratulatory, because I think that getting an engineering degree is no small feat. Keeping an engineering job, apparently, is much harder, but that is another story.
                                    
The first fall we were married, I took a physics class. Ex told me physics was his strongest subject and that he could help me with my homework, which I totally took him up on. Turns out, he couldn't even do the simplest velocity homework at the beginning of the class.
                     
I only asked him for help once because he got so mad that he couldn't do it. He didn't speak to me for about a week afterwards.

U is for Unhappy

Yesterday was Ex's birthday. In a horrible moment of weakness and curiosity, I unblocked him from facebook. I wanted to make sure someone remembered and wished him happy birthday. He had five birthdays while we were together, and on every single one, no one remembered.
                                                     
Ex would call his mom aound ten at night and tell her it was his birthday. His sister would text him a few days (or weeks) after the actual day. No one cared about Ex's birthday. Except me.

I would start planning his birthday months in advance. I spent months deciding what to get for him and weeks finding the perfect gift. Once, I threw him a surprise party, which was not easy, considering Ex didn't really have any friends. He was thrilled.
                                
So why is this unhappy? Because now, as far as I know, no one cares about his birthday...or him. The facebook thing was unhelpful. Apparently, he has deleted his account. I got paranoid and wondered if he blocked me, so I made up a fake account and looked searched that way. No, he still didn't show up.

I miss Ex. I feel really sad for him. I hope someone in his life cares enough to remember his birthday. Besides me, that is.

T is for Tricycle

On one of our first dates, Ex and I went to the roller derby. It was awesome. The crowd was excited, the bouts were fierce, and Ex was in fine form. He was animated - laughing and cheering. I was having the best time.
                   
At half-time, they asked for volunteers. Ex jumped up and ran down to center ring. I was elated. My boyfriend was brave, fearless, and energetic! Turns out, they wanted adults to race on huge tricycles in pairs, one pedaling and someone standing behind and holding their shoulders.

Ex waved me down. I'm not the kind of person to volunteer for something like that. I was quite content to stay in the stands and watch. But I went down happily, jumped on the back of the tricycle, and we were off. Ex pedaled like mad and I helped by leaning into the curves. It was so much fun. We both laughed and laughed.
                           
Even better, we won! True, the prize was an expired gift certificate to an ice cream shop, but it was so much fun. I did a lot of things with Ex that I never would have done without him. I'm still doing things I wouldn't have done before. After all, magic happens outside of your comfort zone.

Where did the fun guy disappear to the second we got married?

S is for Salsa

There was one meal I could make and know that Ex would eat it - tacos. One night, I was putting out the salsa, sour cream, lettuce, etc. when Ex came into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and pulled out a new jar of salsa.
                             
We already had two open jars, and I told him I would like to empty those jars before we opened a new one. He said okay and we sat down to eat. Two seconds later, Ex slammed his chair back, stormed into the kitchen, yanked open the refrigerator, and pulled out the new jar of salsa.
                               
He came back to the table and proceeded to scream at me that he could have whatever he wanted and that I had no right to tell him he couldn't have salsa. Then he started sobbing about how he just wanted some salsa. I sat there in total shock. Tried to apologize...I don't remember what happened right after. I think I blocked it from memory. I try not to think about some things. Again, good times.

R is for Romantic

Almost two years after we met, Ex took me to a Japanese steak house for dinner on Valentine's Day. Two weeks after that, he took me to a quiet, romantic Italian restaurant and proposed to me right there at the table. Ex later told me that he had planned to propose on Valentine's Day, but the steak house wasn't romantic enough.
                                
I thought that was very sweet and thoughtful.

When I moved out of my apartment a few weeks ago, I found the receipt for the engagement ring. Ex had purchased it a few days before we went to the Italian restaurant. He didn't have it on Valentine's Day.
                                              
Does it matter? Not really. It is just another of Ex's tiny little lies that added up to an unbelievable man.

Q is for Questions

Nine questions I would like to know the answers to:

1)     Is he married again?

2)     Does he have any kids yet? (Please tell me no…)

3)     Is he in town or did he move again?

4)     Why do I care?

                            

5)     Why did he lie all the time even when the truth was sometimes better than the lie?

6)     Why did he hate me so much?

7)  Is it obvious to others that I am still walking around in a black fog, even though I can force a smile?

                            

8)      Does he lie awake at night and wonder what I am doing?

9) How long am I going to lie awake at night and wonder what he is doing?

P is for Pool

When Ex and I were first married, I was in heaven. I thought I had been given the greatest gift in the world – another person’s love.

We spent our first night as husband and wife in a very fancy hotel in town. Ex reserved the honeymoon suite, which came with a bottle of champagne, a basket of snacks, and, best of all, a late checkout time! Instead of the normal checkout time of 11:00, we did not have to be out until 4:00. We took full advantage of the situation by sleeping in and then going down to the pool and hot tub to relax even more.

                     

I used to be very scared of water. I had recently learned how to swim, but I still preferred to stay in the shallow end and just play around. Ex was not satisfied with that. He took me by the waist and dragged me out to where the water was over my head. He stood there, grasping me firmly by the hips and yelling at me to paddle.

Trust me, I was paddling. Because Ex was holding my hips up, my entire torso and head were being dunked under water and I panicked – it felt as if he was trying to drown me. I finally managed to twist around and grabbed him desperately around the neck. I wasn’t mad, just scared.

Ex, however, was irate. He barely spoke to me for the next three days. Welcome to marriage.

O is for Onions

One night, Ex made himself a hamburger and put red onion on it. He left the chopped red onion out on the counter all night. The next morning,  I woke up with cold-like symptoms - stuffy nose, watery eyes, slight fever. I didn’t think much of it, just thought I had caught a summer cold.
             

The next time Ex had red onion, I figured it out. I had developed an allergy to red onions. Before he found out that I was allergic to red onions, Ex usually preferred white onions. Then he found out red onions made me sick, so he started buying red onions all the time.

                  

He would hide them from me, like I wouldn't find out. I would know red onions were in the house because I would develop a random cold. I could even smell them coming out of Ex’s pores.

I asked him once why he bought red onions when he knew I was allergic. I don’t remember what he said in response, but I will never forget the triumphant gleam in his eye. He had found yet another way to make me miserable and that made his day.

N is for Naked

I have a very high libido. Ex had a very low libido.

I was a virgin when we got married. Ex had slept with three women.

 I love sex. Ex didn’t.

See a problem here?

                                            

 I used to think that Ex’s willingness to wait for sex meant that he loved me. I used to believe Ex when he would whisper promises of passionate nights for “years and years”. I could not wait for our wedding night when we would finally consummate our love.

We had sex four times that first night. And then nothing for four days.

                           

I was crushed. I felt utterly rejected. Ex said he was tired. Later, he told me he had been mad at me and didn’t like me, so why would he want to have sex with me?

At the beginning of the marriage, I would try to initiate sex. I had been a loyal Cosmo reader and knew that the majority of guys wanted their partners to initiate sex, and I wanted to be a great partner, so I did.

        

I would lie in bed naked, waiting for him to come in, tell me goodnight, and then notice I was naked.

 Sometimes that worked. If Ex was in a decent mood, he loved it. If not, which was most of the time, it irritated him and he wouldn’t talk to me for days. And I do mean days. Ex was really hard to read at first, so I could never tell what his reaction would be.

 It didn’t take long before I stopped trying. I learned my lessons well. No more Naked Me waiting in bed for my loving, horny husband. I didn’t have one.

M is for Mom

On our second date, Ex and I went to see a movie and then to Steak N’ Shake for a late snack. It was snowing and we sat in the warm restaurant and talked for a very long time. It was not normal second date conversation; we talked about kids, our plans for the future, our relationships with our families, and other serious topics.

Ex told me that his mother was a real bitch. He said she was mean and hateful and that she was not only a horrible mother but a horrible person as well. I was shocked. Huge red flag. I think Ex saw the look on my face because he changed the topic immediately.

                                    

The next date, Ex’s tune had changed dramatically. Now he loved his mother and told me stories about how he had been a difficult child and that she was a saint to put up with him.

He went to visit her shortly thereafter and came back raving about how great she was. I stupidly decided the huge red flag was just the result of a bad day for Ex and chose to believe the new Ex instead.

                            

Every time we saw Ex’s mom, he would treat her with the utmost respect – opening doors for her, pulling out her chair, giving her hugs, and carrying on lovely conversations with her. He channeled his anger towards her directly at me. Ex never treated me more badly then when his mom was in town or when he had just seen her.

One time when he had just returned from visiting her, he started yelling at me and called me “mom”. He swore that it never happened but it did. Several times, in fact. Just an example of him getting mad at me for something that had nothing to do with me. Oh, how I wish I had paid more attention to that red flag.

                         

I should have put this under "F is for Flag".

L is for Litter

Although he professed to care about the environment, Ex did practically nothing to help it. He left lights on, kept the air conditioning blasting, left doors open so the air escaped, left the water running while he brushed his teeth, drove a V8 truck, and drank bottled water. Ex claimed to care but did nothing to show it.

                               

One thing he was big on was not littering. He told me once that if I started littering, he would divorce me. I could tell that he meant it, too. It really hurt my feelings but I didn’t say anything. He actually apologized later and I told him I appreciated that. Didn’t really matter, though, because the damage had been done. Littering was a big enough offense to break his vows.

                     

I should have thrown a candy wrapper out the window on our way to the hotel on our wedding day. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

K is for Kiss

            The last time Ex kissed me, I was shocked. We were walking into church and he just stopped and kissed me. Ex was never affectionate like that, and it made me so happy. Briefly. The moment was ruined when he asked me if his breath was bad. I guess maybe I should just be glad that his breath wasn't bad, because that was the very last time my husband kissed me - to find out if he had bad breath. Now that's love.