So, long time no blog.
Things change. How many times have I admitted that to myself this year?
It’s been an up-and-down few months.
I finally walked out of my marriage, a little tenderised but mostly unscathed. I can pretty much thank the Manbeast’s level head for much of it. The house sold for a decent price (the range we were hoping for) and we were able to split with a decent chunk of money each, even after paying back the Maternal Unit the amount she gave us for a deposit.
Sadly our promises of “staying friends” seems to have turned to “staying silent”. We haven’t spoken for a long while. For all of his insistence of joint ownership of the cats and visitation rights and such (this was our personal joke – we have no kids other than the fur babies), nothing has really happened in that respect. He hasn’t called to visit them at all. I get it. I was warned that it was most likely to happen and while it makes me a little bit sadder than usual, I get it. And I’ll take it on the chin. I’m not going to chase him down and insist he be part of my life like he made me promise when we were going through the throws of breaking up.
What actually hurts most is the abject silence from a handful of our mutual friends and that of his parents. Where my mum (the Maternal Unit) had offered her ongoing support to the Manbeast, something I have absolutely no issue with, I haven’t had the same from his parents. That’s one stony, icy-cold silence. Guess I was a bitter disappointment there. First take their son away, then refuse to have babies, then break up with him.
The other friends… Well, maybe I wasn’t as close to them as I thought. They certainly haven’t reciprocated the “We are Switzerland!” stance that the Manbeast and I gave them when they were going through their own issues. There’s been no pokes through Facebook or emails or texts. Just silence.
And to be honest, that’s ok too. The Manbeast needs their support without my interference.
Let it go.
Things change. Though I will admit it’s left me feeling very alone sometimes. I don’t go chasing people anymore for attention, particularly when it’s obvious that I am barely registering as a thought.
Moving back into the Maternal Unit’s house hasn’t been terribly fun. It’s been reassuring to know that I had somewhere to go but I’ve packed up a whole independent life and put as much of it as I could into one room. A very small room. Mum is a clutter-bug and has a LOT of stuff she’s been keeping for those “just in case” moments and, of course, things that are “useful”. Unfortunately it means that there’s not a whole lot of space to put other stuff, even before I moved in; an achievement when you think it’s a three bedroom house that has contained one lady and one or two cats for the better part of 10 years. She’s a neat hoarder, though. Very tidily squirreling things away. No piles of stuff or cluttered hallways but nature clearly hates a vacuum in that house.
Not all is doom and gloom though.
There’s a new bloke on the scene.
He makes me happy.
Ecstatic, actually. He gets it. He gets me. He loves me. He wants to be with me. Not just “in a relationship” but physically be in my presence a lot of the time.
The feeling is entirely mutual.
And I am learning what I was missing out on with the Manbeast. This is not a bad thing – how can you miss what you never experienced? It’s just nice to learn these new facets of a relationship. Having someone reach for your hand and actually hold it, leaning in for a kiss (and to hell with who is watching), reading a paper together over a hot chocolate and coffee, dating. Stuff that never really happened before.
The Manbeast and I were a couple but we did our own thing and worked independently of each other much of the time. Too much of the time.
Now, “Greybeard” (as I will call him for he has an impressive beard that is delightfully salt-and-pepper grey) and I do stuff together for the purpose of doing stuff together; sharing and experiencing things together.
He likes to shop with me.
He watches “Say Yes to the Dress” marathons with me. VOLUNTARILY.
That’s true love right there, folks.
He’s not perfect but I don’t want him to be. His imperfections match mine and we can make each other better.
I have no idea where life is headed next, but I know for sure that I’m going to live it rather than just exist in it. My aunt died at the end of July this year. That will be another blog post for later when I don’t feel the crushing weight of her absence anymore, but her death has taught me not to waste any more time.