At home, you smile more. You’re showering more, yelling less at the kids. You’re feeling attractive, feeling like you’ve got a little adventure in your boring, stay-at-home life. You feel like there’s something more than changing two babies’ diapers, and training the third one to use the potty. You’re looking forward to those smiley-face emoticons he pings at you.
In his e-mails, he starts dancing slower, closer. He tells you about his wife and how much she nags. How she doesn’t take care of her appearance. He begins recalling the night the two of you …
Ah, the memories. What it was like to be twenty years old. Twenty and carefree. You remember it all. You remember the then. But then … you remember the now.
Your three beautiful children, your adoring husband, your great life. How lucky you are to be able to be home, to be the one changing the diapers and reading books to your oldest as he sits on the potty. To be with the family you created with the husband you love and adore. The one you used to crave like you used to crave the ex.
Now.
Not then. Now.
Because then was then. It wasn’t a Nothing. But Now is a Something. A real Something. And you know that.
So, the next time you log on, you do something so out of character that you’ll have some serious explaining to do. You log on, and then you go to your provider’s home page and you close out your e-mail account. You make sure the ex won’t be able to get in touch with you again.
You no longer exist to him. You no longer existed to him the day you said your goodbyes, however many years ago it was. No matter who said it first, no matter who did the breaking, you dissolved. And you can’t reinvent something that wasn’t real in the first place.
By Stephanie Elliot
Photo courtesy of Betty Confidential
