Thanks, But No Thanks

My ex and I had a very interesting separation. We had been fighting like beasts for literally, years, and the tirades became even worse right before I moved out. He repeatedly expressed his undying dislike for me and refused to go to counseling sessions.

I told him I couldn’t wait to move out. We were both pretty darn evil. It went on like this for months before I finally had the money to put down a deposit on an apartment. And then, something funny happened.

Literally, overnight, my ex decided I was the most wonderful woman in the world and he had to have me back. He called, e-mailed, sent cards, etc. He proclaimed I was a fantastic person, a wonderful wife, and so on. The man just would not let up.

After a couple of months in my new apartment, he called yet but again, asking me to, “come home.” I thought about his proposal. What on earth did he think I wanted to come home to? More financial messes? A lawn on a freakin’ 90 degree incline that I ended up having to mow and weed wack by myself every week? More nights of being home alone until all hours? Cleaning up disgusting messes?

I looked around my apartment. OK, so it wasn’t the Taj Mahal. Actually, it was pretty darn old and small. But it was clean and bright. My son managed to contain his messes to his room, so the rest of the place looked inviting and peaceful, even if it was filled with second-hand furniture.

I realized, for the first time in a long time, I had something I had lacked -- peace. I wasn’t interested in returning to the turmoil, the loneliness, and the disarray or my former home or marriage. I had begun seeing someone new, and I was excited about the future. I knew that I would never go back.