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Ex and I had to bop all the way out to the outer suburbs to cancel our safe deposit box, the last account of any kind that we held jointly. Yes, we split the phone bill. Yes, we split the car insurance & registration. And oh yeah, we sold a house a couple of years back. It's good to be well & truly done with divorce tasks, more than nine years (!) after starting down this road emotionally and two years legally.
Ex, to my small embarrassment but no great surprise, tried to get out of paying $80 one last time, but nope. We could have if we'd jumped on it a couple of weeks ago, but between Ex's arthritis and her stepmother's broken bones, that didn't happen.
What was weird about this was how we act when we're together: we talk non-stop, about our son, about our parents, about the news. I felt a little sorry for the bank employees. I found myself wishing we were having lunch instead of in a bank branch. It's bittersweet - still - to hang out with the woman I once believed was Ms. Right. (Yeah, I know a lot of you don't exactly share that sentiment. You have a point, and you've made it. Now hush.)
You want to know why so much of my life is devoted to the search for the new Ms. Right? See the above paragraph. Most of the people reading this who have primary partners found them at ages significantly younger than I am now. Maybe my son's right, and I'm ducking foomed. Ex expresses a healthy skepticism of the wisdom of the young. I sure hope she's right this time.
Ex, to my small embarrassment but no great surprise, tried to get out of paying $80 one last time, but nope. We could have if we'd jumped on it a couple of weeks ago, but between Ex's arthritis and her stepmother's broken bones, that didn't happen.
What was weird about this was how we act when we're together: we talk non-stop, about our son, about our parents, about the news. I felt a little sorry for the bank employees. I found myself wishing we were having lunch instead of in a bank branch. It's bittersweet - still - to hang out with the woman I once believed was Ms. Right. (Yeah, I know a lot of you don't exactly share that sentiment. You have a point, and you've made it. Now hush.)
You want to know why so much of my life is devoted to the search for the new Ms. Right? See the above paragraph. Most of the people reading this who have primary partners found them at ages significantly younger than I am now. Maybe my son's right, and I'm ducking foomed. Ex expresses a healthy skepticism of the wisdom of the young. I sure hope she's right this time.
