I’ve been in a real funk lately.
Mostly because I’ve had to re-evaluate the last 10-12 years of my life, since it appears that what I believed to be a true view of my ex wasn’t even close to the truth. Not that he was unfaithful – it’s his actions after our break-up that really makes me wonder what kind of person it was I spent all those years with.
For starters, I kind of thought it would take him more time to “get over” our relationship, but apparently he has a very short turnaround time.
I am still reeling every now and then, when it hits me that my life has changed so incredibly much in just the last 2 months. He on the other hand, seems to have had a plan for all this for quite some time. Why else would he be out on the market on dating sites looking for female company within days of me moving out?
How do I know?
Through an acquaintance who also trawls those sites for a possible mate.
Does that mean he was done with me long before the actual break-up, and I didn’t realise that? What about last winter? Was all his care and attention during my operation and chemo nothing more than acting on his part?
Or, and this is what really breaks me – is this a true presentation of his personality these days? Who was it I lived with for all those years? Who is he? I mean, really!
Is he someone who will make himself out as being far more open-minded than what he really is – far more accepting of others than what is the actual truth? Pretend to be a person who has certain interests, who enjoys champagne breakfasts, romantic walks on the beach and God-knows-what - to attract a woman who is anywhere between the ages of 35 and 45? He presents himself as having an occupation at which he hasn’t been active for some 15 years…
Is this signs of someone who is suffering from a belated middle-age crisis – or what?
I’ve been battling with this post for the last two weeks. At first, I was not going to make it public – for the shame of it. Then I thought I should keep a “stiff upper lip” and pretend that I think life is jolly good… Then I decided that I need to put this out there and get your advice, because I don’t seem to be able to let go of this.
Am I right in ranting and raving – to myself, to my journal, during walks around town?
Or
Should I understand his need to find a younger and slightly less shop-worn companion, who will join him for romantic dinners at candle-lit restaurants
(yea, right!)
and who can partake in lively discussions about the mysteries of life?
Romantic dinners??? In restaurants??? We didn’t do that, because he was too fracking cheap!
Discussions about the mysteries of life??? Was that what we did, when the talk was about the ills of various engines in different states of disrepair???
I must’ve missed an awful lot of things over the years.
Now, why do I still cry, every now and then?










