Here is my day summed up in Haiku:
you took the TV asshole
the Bruins lost to the Caps again
had to watch online stream
Here is what I thought of when I told him that I wouldn't actually be there to help him move like we had planned, back when I thought he was a decent person, again in Haiku:
hope your spine severs fuckstick
it is good you are moving alone
maybe you'll lose some weight
Originally, when he mentioned needing help moving out, I offered to be there for him. When he asked if I was cool with him bringing a bunch of friends over to rifle through our things so that he could rip them violently out of my possession, I told him bring a caravan for all I cared. I even told him to bring his little work girl-friend who weighs a solid 82 I-don't-do-drugs pounds, and who would be able to help him lift exactly nothing. No longer my not-friend.
Today I called and informed him that I would be taking my daughter to the family camp for moving day- a completely reasonable idea. I don't think she should have to witness that type of move. As a child, it's one thing to know the main father figure in your life is leaving you, but it's a whole different thing to actually watch him leave.
I decided I would pick up a friend of my daughters' and then take the girls to the camp where my sister and her little fam were. I also told Assface that, while I didn't mind him being at our house without me, there was no reason for crackhead-McGee to be there, because she'd be/is useless.
I also told him to ixnay the 14 buddies and stick with 1. All the heavy crap we had other than the TV and mattress was mine and if he couldn't move it by himself then he should work out more. Fatty.
He came earlier then I had hoped, which I should have known would happen. Him coming to early was a recurring issue in our relationship.
So, unfortunately, my daughter saw him arrive and talked to him. Briefly. He seriously couldn't be burdened to sit and have a convo with a little girl for more than 3 minutes? So I put her in the car with all the new toys I've been buying her to show my love and support through this whole ordeal without actually having to have a conversation with her, and we started to drive away.
Then my world stopped turning as she yelled "Bye, insert Assface's real name here. I love you", out of the car window. I hope to god he didn't hear her, because otherwise he ignored her. So I stopped the car, rolled down the windows and shouted "Did you hear her? She just said good-bye and she loves you".
He managed a super-awesome "Oh, yeah. Love you too, kiddo" before heading in to grab more stuff.
And that's it. I took the girls to the camp and tried to think of anything but the move. I played "restaurant" with my daughter, drank a few glasses of sangria with my sister, and when the little ones were ready, we headed out.
When we arrived home, I went downstairs and stared at what had once been our room and it's sudden lack of a TV and mattress and the absence of all his too-short sweatpants. I looked at all the extra space I had for my shoes. I saw the place on the wall where his signed Evel Knievel picture had been. And when my daughter tried to come downstairs I told her absolutely not. I didn't want her to see the rooms that way, and what's more, I didn't want her to see me that way. No longer. All this sadness and crying has to stop for her sake. So I cleaned up my mascara, popped a RX made specifically for moments like this, and went upstairs to kick her ass at Uno. Then I put her into bed and snuggled with her for an hour.
When she was sound asleep, I went downstairs, sat on the couch with my favorite blanket, who's named LaFayette, and fell asleep listening to a guided meditation and the sound of my own sobs echoing off the walls.
Many, many moons ago, I was pretty easy going with this split. I realize that I may have played a small role in it and I am acutely aware that it must be hard for Assface, getting on with his life after me. I also truly believed Assface deserved to be happy, and our stupid conversations were so polite even I couldn't figure out how to get a few blows in. Those days are gone.
Originally, when he mentioned needing help moving out, I offered to be there for him. When he asked if I was cool with him bringing a bunch of friends over to rifle through our things so that he could rip them violently out of my possession, I told him bring a caravan for all I cared. I even told him to bring his little work girl-friend who weighs a solid 82 I-don't-do-drugs pounds, and who would be able to help him lift exactly nothing. No longer my not-friend.
Today I called and informed him that I would be taking my daughter to the family camp for moving day- a completely reasonable idea. I don't think she should have to witness that type of move. As a child, it's one thing to know the main father figure in your life is leaving you, but it's a whole different thing to actually watch him leave.
I decided I would pick up a friend of my daughters' and then take the girls to the camp where my sister and her little fam were. I also told Assface that, while I didn't mind him being at our house without me, there was no reason for crackhead-McGee to be there, because she'd be/is useless.
 | ||
| Can you help me grab the...never mind. You just sit there with that crack pipe...I got this. |
I also told him to ixnay the 14 buddies and stick with 1. All the heavy crap we had other than the TV and mattress was mine and if he couldn't move it by himself then he should work out more. Fatty.
He came earlier then I had hoped, which I should have known would happen. Him coming to early was a recurring issue in our relationship.
So, unfortunately, my daughter saw him arrive and talked to him. Briefly. He seriously couldn't be burdened to sit and have a convo with a little girl for more than 3 minutes? So I put her in the car with all the new toys I've been buying her to show my love and support through this whole ordeal without actually having to have a conversation with her, and we started to drive away.
Then my world stopped turning as she yelled "Bye, insert Assface's real name here. I love you", out of the car window. I hope to god he didn't hear her, because otherwise he ignored her. So I stopped the car, rolled down the windows and shouted "Did you hear her? She just said good-bye and she loves you".
He managed a super-awesome "Oh, yeah. Love you too, kiddo" before heading in to grab more stuff.
 |
| People have no idea when "I love you" sounds fake, though. Right? |
And that's it. I took the girls to the camp and tried to think of anything but the move. I played "restaurant" with my daughter, drank a few glasses of sangria with my sister, and when the little ones were ready, we headed out.
When we arrived home, I went downstairs and stared at what had once been our room and it's sudden lack of a TV and mattress and the absence of all his too-short sweatpants. I looked at all the extra space I had for my shoes. I saw the place on the wall where his signed Evel Knievel picture had been. And when my daughter tried to come downstairs I told her absolutely not. I didn't want her to see the rooms that way, and what's more, I didn't want her to see me that way. No longer. All this sadness and crying has to stop for her sake. So I cleaned up my mascara, popped a RX made specifically for moments like this, and went upstairs to kick her ass at Uno. Then I put her into bed and snuggled with her for an hour.
When she was sound asleep, I went downstairs, sat on the couch with my favorite blanket, who's named LaFayette, and fell asleep listening to a guided meditation and the sound of my own sobs echoing off the walls.
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