Really the Very Worst Thing Ever...

Really the Very Worst Thing Ever... 

People are really the very worst thing ever.

That’s how I feel sometimes.  I think we all do.  After being disappointed.  Let down.  Disillusioned.

And it’s not simply people out there, in the news, that cause one to question one’s loyalty to humankind.  Frequently it’s our family members, or best friends who we consider family.  In other words, it’s our very personal experience that leads us to that conclusion.

That’s how I felt this morning, when my ex casually mentioned his dinner plans for tonight.

My ex and I know this gay couple, people we considered our best friends.  I was acquainted with one member of the couple before my ex and I became a couple, so we have a long history together; over seventeen years. 

It has been one of those friendships where we see each other, typically, only once a season, but still consider ourselves ‘best buds’. 

Theirs has been a weirdly functional dysfunctional relationship.  Lots of issues.  Lots of ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?’ kind of antics.  I’ll leave it to your imaginations to fill in the blanks. 

Ironically, it was the four of us having dinner at their house one evening which caused me to realize that I needed to end my relationship with my ex.  You see, I didn’t want to end up like them; taking verbal swipes at one another in front of others, denigrating one another – living, loving, and loathing while finding solace in a bevy of alcoholic beverages. 

So, that last dinner party was the last dinner party.

Within days, I informed my ex that it was over between us and that we needed to sort things out in order to live independently of one another.  It was a difficult decision to make, setting off all kinds of shockwaves in our various circles, but it had to be done.   As it was, our relationship simply wasn’t healthy anymore.

And maybe that ended up being the takeaway message of our whole break up; one that wasn’t very popular among those in functional dysfunctional relationships.

Based on recent events, it would seem that my ex got ‘them’ in the divorce.  After the break up, I reached out to them and got no response. Instead, they contacted him and the three of them have been going out to dinner on and off since.

Which surprised me. I used to go out with these friends of ours a lot more often than my ex.  They liked to drink and he doesn’t.  Me?  As you may know, I don’t mind the occasional cocktail. 

Inevitably, these evenings would turn into a kind of bitch session where I would hear all about how much they loathed each other, and, in turn, they would hear all about the many irritating things my ex was doing to drive me up the wall.

And we’d laugh. 

Because they knew all too well how ridiculous my ex could be about some things.  They constantly marveled at my ability to put up with it all.     .

So, I thought they would agree with my decision to leave him.

But, no…

I am the stinky cheese left in the corner. 

I know, I know – I’m probably well rid of them. But still… seventeen years is a long time. 

And I get it… I do.  I’ve been left out on the doorstep by others before. No doubt, my need for a healthier relationship clearly threatens their ‘whatever you want to call it’.  In light of that, their rejection of me really shouldn’t have come as such a shock. 

But it did.

It always does.

I could say something to them.  But won’t.  I don’t want to stir the pot, creating more drama.  There’s enough as is and I don’t have the bandwidth these days.

Nor do I know what kind of picture my ex is painting for them - not that it’s any of my business anymore.  He did mention to me they felt my timing was horrible. 

But, then, I ask you… is there ever a good time to break someone’s heart?

In the end, what they think really shouldn’t matter to me. And it doesn’t.  Standing on this side of the break-up, I well know I’m better off without them.

So, maybe people really aren’t the very worst thing ever.

Maybe break-ups are.

Because someone always ends up feeling rejected.

And in the end, we all have to be okay with it, get over it, and get on with it, don’t we?

As a dear friend who is no longer a friend once told me…

…keep peddlin’, Skippy.