Saturday was kind of a bummer, honestly, but an expected one. I walked into it knowing it'd be rough, emotionally. In fact I predicted it earlier this week.
After the late night in the Tdot, I got up at 9am to a message from the most-recent-ex saying that he'd be back in town around 1pm after picking up the moving truck. Being up and about, I decided to take my new bike, purchased the previous day with an expected-but-forgotten work bonus, for a ride over to my parents place for coffee since I had neither milk nor the motivation to go and purchase milk. As well some family friends were up so I wanted to say hello, and to show off my sweet ride. yeaaaaah.
The day was dreary and rainy and upon arriving to the beach I parked and wandered until he got there with the truck. Moving is moving and it generally sucked but I was glad to be able to help and glad for the extra one-on-one time, even if it was spent in one of the most soul-suckingly awful activities known to man.. packing ones life into a 17-square-foot moving van.
I learned a few important things.
1) women are not well built for lifting and carrying large objects. we have short arms and boobs that present a significant obstacle.
2) apparently one should not make attempts at humour while moving pianos. This is a big one, up there with 'Always wear clean underwear in case you get in a bad accident' and 'the first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about fight club.'
At any rate, he was quite appreciative of the help. I stayed in pretty good spirits, but saying goodbye was difficult and although I tried to keep a brave face on, let's face it, I wear my emotions on my sleeve like a neon beacon. It was a sad scene.
After he left, I met up with a friend at the park and we commiserated over the difficulties of dating as single parents and the obstacles that crop up. Ironically, as we were sitting in the park I looked over and saw, from a distance, some little girls and a couple of women in wedding finery and realised these were actually my children and their stepmom, as I had momentarily forgotten that saturday was the day the ex and his now-wife were to be married. As much as I wanted to go see my girls, I was not in a good place to be reminded of this at all.
I'd done some thinking and my issue only seems to come down to the question of why? Why is it difficult for me.. when I never asked for any of this? It's not that I dont' want them to be happy.. but why does he get to be, and I don't? It's petty, oh hell yes. But the blank irony is that while HE was getting married to the woman he loves (and no, I don't begrudge either of them that) I was saying goodbye indefinitely to someone I had grown to care quite a bit about, for reasons beyond either of our control.
That's pretty effed up if you ask me.
Despite feeling horribly about avoiding my own children, we bade a retreat from the park and headed downtown for a drink on a local patio. We found a small bandstand set up downtown and a free concert going on. The performers were a local hip-hop group by the name of Grand Analog. They put on a decent show, and really engaged the audience. And I'll be totally honest.. anyone that can make playing a kazoo seem cool is all right in my books.
Back to the patio, we were invited to join a group of out-of-town boaters, a decent group of gentlemen. Had some food, had some laughs. However due to the unseasonably chilly evening, I had to call it a night fairly early.