Say.....

As soon as some dust settles in my life, something else comes along and stirs it all up again but that metaphor would cover a lot of these blog entries, I think. The dust has settled on my life with Bill. I don't think about what his presence was like or think about whether or not I miss him. More importantly, I am not focused on how glad I am that he is no longer here. I am not basking in the sense of relief at not having to deal with his demands, his 'surprises' or his unpredictable behavior that existed on so many levels. I do, however, have moments when I wish I were part of a couple, times when I need that special person who knows my comings and my goings, who has to go through crises with me, problem solve with me, cheer me up when I've had something bad happen to me or just talk to me. I miss that. It's these times, I know, that make me vulnerable. I have to be careful that in such a moment, I don't make a poor choice. Bill had a way, a knack, a great talent actually, for getting back into my good graces after a fiasco. This divorce more than qualifies as a fiasco. It would be, for my life, the Big Kahuna of fiascos. The restraining order insulates me against Bill worming his way back into my life. But Bill is a crafty one. Bill used to start a lot of his sentences with, "Say...." The word was frequently followed by a request for money or a purchase suggestion, such as "Say, could you write me a check for $1,000 for all the money I've spent around here." Sounds like a reasonable request, doesn't it? That got so tweaked that I had to start asking for receipts. Then he would sometimes submit a receipt to me twice so I had to start making big checkmarks on the receipts when I reimbursed them. Or, sometimes the 'say' sentence would be more like, "Say, let's buy a camper." Or "Say, we don't have any good knives around here. Let's go buy some kitchen knives." Then there was, "Say, I saw a Lexus RX300 and I'd like to see you in one of those. Yes, I think you'd look really good in one of those. I want to get you one." Three days ago Laura received a text from Bill. It said: "Say, I've been meaning to have you to tell your mother she needs to put synthetic oil in her car. It should only have synthetic oil. If she doesn't use only synthetic oil, it could cost her about $4,000." REALLY???? After two years, he cares about the OIL in my car? Is he on CRACK? Laura was at her cheer coaching job when she got this concerned missive. Her coach had this to say: "After two years? Does he think your mother hasn't changed her oil in two years? Tell him 'Gee, thanks so much, we didn't know. We've been pouring chocolate syrup down there. We'll go out and get some of that synthetic stuff right away."