This is something I wasn't sure I would ever do. I'm going to tell a story about my ex-husband. It's not that I am opposed to talking about what happened with us, anyone who knows me can tell you that if asked I will be as honest as possible. It's just that I never want to appear bitter, or like I'm that "crazy ex-wife" who bashes the person she chose to marry. Divorce is hard, divorce is scary, divorce (in my situation) is a culmination of choices made by two people who just didn't belong together. It's not entirely his fault, and it's not entirely mine. We both failed.
That being said, he did leave me with some great stories.
When I think of celebrating anniversaries I think of the typical romantic things: flowers (which die, so they are dumb even though they're a nice gesture), chocolates, jewelry, music, and candlelight dinners after which you clear the table and proceed to go at it right there in the middle of the dining room because you can't resist the passion and you have to rip your lovers clothes off. I know, I'm idealistic. What can I say, I'm a chick who loves romance AND naughty sex. Anywho, I wasn't married very long, but going into it I had high hopes. Let's just say that none of my anniversaries included chocolate or sex.
By my first anniversary I had already moved out for a trial run apart. By the second we had spent 8 months apart, 2 back together, then 4 more apart again. Seeing as how it was going so well, I was not excited about my ex insisting that we get together to celebrate. We were living in separate cities and I just didn't see the point. Have I ever mentioned that I'm a people pleaser? Well, I am. So, as you can imagine even in the face of separation and divorce I still did not want to upset this man that I married. I caved. He came up to visit and to take me out for a nice romantic evening.....
I remember being very nervous, which is weird considering this was a man whose name I shared. I got all dressed up (always trying to impress) and he came to get me. I know at the time I thought to myself "at least it can't possibly be as bad as last years celebration where I fell off a horse, rolled down a snow covered hill, hit my head on a rock, and got a concussion." I was wrong. It could get worse.
The night started by him wanting to run into the store real quick to get some gum. So we drove, parked, and I let him get his ever important pack of gum. That would prove to be our downfall. He jumped back into the car (or truck), put the vehicle in "drive" and started to quickly pull forward. BAM. Yep, you know those curb type things meant to keep a-holes from pulling forward into another spot that they sometimes/often have in parking lots? Well, we not only hit it, we ramped over it. We were now sitting with the front 2 tires over the curb. The conversation went something like this.
Me: Ummmmmmmm, ya, didn't you look to make sure you could pull forward before you actually just went and did it?
Him: No, I just assumed. It's okay though, we are in a truck, we can make it over.
Me: I really don't think that is a good idea, you might get a flat or worse, just put it in reverse and back up.
Him: No, we are high enough, this is a truck. Going forward will be the same as going back, it's fine.
Me: Ya, I don't think so. It's not like we are driving a tanker truck that is super high, just back up.
Him: *I know it all face* No.
Me: *Whatever face*
SCRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH BUMP BUMP BUMP SSCCCRREEEEEEEEEECCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHH
Me: Wow, that didn't sounds good, I'm pretty sure you just ruined the bottom of your truck.
Him: Probably just scratched, I think it's fine.
So, we continue to drive through the parking lot to get out to the street when we both smell gasoline. Bad. I beg him to stop the car so we can look into it. We get out of the car and realize that we ripped open the gas tank and were leaking gas everywhere around the lot. It was bad, and it smelled. He thinks we can just leave it, but me (being of super high intelligence) realize that if anyone had a spark around this area the whole complex would likely go up in flames. Quick spreading, gas started flames. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that called arson??? I'm way to cute to go to jail.
So, we get out a phone, call the fire department, and step into the only place that was serving food so that we could eat while we waited. We had no working car, were miles from my apartment, and I was hungry. Do you want to know where I ate my fancy Anniversary dinner? The Pizza Hut Buffet. Smelling like gasoline and regret. I ended up having to call my parents (who were out at a Christmas Party celebrating the Holidays like adults should) to come get me. It was awful. I had to explain what had happened and we were currently eating pizza and waiting for the fire department. Eventually after finishing dinner and sitting outside on the curb waiting, the police and fire department showed up. In the big red truck. Let me tell you, it's not glamorous explaining that your estranged husband is an idiot who doesn't listen while watching firemen laying kitty litter all over a strip mall.
By my 3rd Anniversary we hadn't spoken in months, and on my 4th Anniversary I got divorced. That's right, my Wedding Certificate and my Divorce Decree have the same date on them. 4 years to the day.
I keep telling myself that the moral of this story is things can only go up from here! Keep your chin up! Time will tell if that indeed pans out to be true.....so far, I'm not so sure. If I ever get to the point where I am celebrating Anniversaries with a man, I'm pretty sure I am going to plan on staying in with 911 ready to dial on my phone. Just in case, I mean, you never can be too careful.
