Today is The Ex’s birthday. (I told you that February was a very significant month.) And living with him is hard as hell. That’s part of the reason we broke up. But living with him and not being with him is even harder. Toxic at times. It’s also hard because I still love him. I have made it clear that we are no longer together, yet he continues to get angry when I tell him I’m going out or when I borrow a friend’s jeans because I stayed the night. I literally mean a friend. And I continue to accidentally hug him in he middle of the night because we only have one bed. And then I have to remind myself that we’re no longer together. Heartbreak all over again.
But just because you love someone, does not mean it’s healthy to be with that person. We’ve forgotten how to appreciate each other and sometimes we’re both downright spiteful. We need some time apart. Not that I’m saying we will get back together, but it’s hard to imagine my life without him after 12 years. But it’s hard to forgive the drugs. Earlier this morning a needle fell out of my jeans pocket. Well, I sure the hell knew it wasn’t mine. He looked at me and said it was one he used to slam someone else. Oh, so it wasn’t you that used it? That’s supposed to make it better? No the hell it doesn’t. It may actually make matters worse.
We’re supposed to try and go out tonight, but guess who’d be footing the bill? Well, it sure the hell isn’t The Ex who recently quit his job that took him a year to find! Bitch, I ain’t rich! I’m still in debt from the last situation you got us into! Where’s all the money you had from the job you just quit? In someone else’s arm? Why do I let myself get guilted into stupid shit all the time?
Let’s turn this into a reverse-advice column–would you celebrate The Ex’s birthday?