Gin. What a motherfu**er. Woke up at 1:30am. Lights on. Television on. Makeup still on. Uneaten pizza in the kitchen (I made a pizza???). Vague memories of dry heaving over the toilet. And yes, then tears came. Glamour is not my middle name.
Mid-tears I called my husband (we don't live together). Drunk dialing my husband in the middle of the night is humiliating enough. When said husband doesn’t answer…Ouch. It hurts as much as you think it would. After he didn’t answer I sent him a text stating that “I want a divorce. Officially.” The perfect conclusion to an almost uneventful night.
Gin opened up the window that I've been denying was even there to open. Well, the window opened up wide tonight. Suddenly visible was the hurt that comes along with admitting the fact that my husband did not choose me. And I do believe that he had a choice. Though, ask him and he would say that addiction chose for him (remember when I said that sometimes things chose you?). Ask me and I would say that I begged him to tell me that if that was ever going to happen to please, just let me know. Well, it happened, and NO he did not tell me. Naive? Most definitely. I believed what I wanted to believe. I chose someone that I knew, in the end, would not choose me. Well - - I shouldn’t say that. In the end he did choose me. It was the beginning that messed everything up. In the end he said that he regretted the beginning. Comforting? Not so much. I sometimes wonder if I didn’t play along knowing all the while that I had an easy out. To opt out, press 1. To keep on going as if everything is fine, press 2. I pressed 1. I’m still trying to get back to the main menu…
So here I am. It's 3:10am. I'm still trying to remember when I made that pizza. I'm still wondering why my husband didn’t answer my call. And I still want a divorce. Officially.
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