Recycling

This is reprinted from another blog I keep, but I like it, and I'd like it here. So.

So I'm a little confused....one of my good friends from college is getting married in two weeks, and she didn't invite me to the wedding. She says she didn't know my address, but let's be honest here....I think the real problem is that my ex-wife almost has to be there. Now, to be fair, I understand that when you get divorced, your friends have to come down on one side or the other at some point.The guys have mostly come down on my side of it, but this particular friend had thus far been fairly objective. Actually, she's the only one of the girls from our little gang at U of I who still talks to me at all.

I don't exactly blame her--who wants their wedding to be the setting for an incredibly awkward social scene, right? But they're nice couple, and I would have liked the opportunity to get together with some of the old crew. What really bothers me more than anything is that she won't shoot straight about it. I mean, she hasn't taken sides, and I really appreciate that. And I know she can't be fucking Switzerland with the wedding, it had to be one or the other of us. But she could have just told me, it wouldn't have broken my heart.

That's the worst thing about the divorce, really. I'm glad I got out of the marriage when I did, pre-kids and all. I'm not happy about the whole situation, but I don't regret it and I definitely have reached a point where I'm at peace with the whole thing. The earthquake was bad, but we're past that. It's the aftershocks that hurt. I miss some of those friends, and it stings a little to know that things will never be quite like they were, even if we all managed to get together.
I miss owning a house. I miss hanging out with my brothers-in-law, drinking beer and arguing about the kind of asinine things only close friends can discuss. I miss playing softball on Friday nights and then playing basketball hungover on Saturday mornings, reeking of booze and dragging ass all over the court with the guys. I miss my nieces and nephews. I miss all the innocent flirting with my sister-in-law. I miss playing bags on Sunday.

I don't miss the fights. I don't miss going to my in-laws four times a week. I don't miss the drama. I don't miss being broke. I don't miss the nagging, harping, constant browbeating about everything under the sun. I don't miss my ex-wife.

I take back my earlier comment. I have some regrets. I'm not sad that it turned out the way it did, I think it was inevitable. I don't regret the relationship, either. The good times were good, just not good enough to get us through. But I wish I'd made a better break with all the satellites that orbited our marriage. I wish I'd had a chance to say goodbye, man to man, to the guys that meant so much to me for the past four years. I wish I could have explained myself to my ex-wife's sister, because I can't stand the knowledge that she hates me now. I wish I could have kissed my nieces and nephews goodbye. I wish I'd told my father-in-law that he was a controlling, domineering ass. I wish I'd told my mother-in-law that half of what ruined my marriage stemmed directly from her fucked-up way of directing her daughter's every action.

But the one thing that can still make me tear up is a ridiculous little thing. So insignificant in the grand scheme of things, I'm almost embarassed to admit it. You all (yeah, sometimes I pretend someone reads this cathartic, self-indulgent shit) will probably think I'm nuts, and I can't say I blame you. But it just happens to be the one thing that still hurts. Judge me however you want, recommend me for psychoanalysis, never speak to me again. It's the simple truth.

I wish that bitch had let me keep my goddamn cats. I loved those fucking cats.