The other night, I felt pretty down in the dumps after yet another run-in with T, but managed to forget all about it and laugh my head off watching Bridesmaids at the cinema. Go for it everyone, it’s a bit naff and predictable, but the actors are fantastic and the result is a couple of hours of pure, easy-on-the-brain, good time!
I also discovered the über-90s hit Hold-on, which is practically a philosophical treaty delivered by a trio of hilarioulsy-dressed minstrels.
Meanwhile, T is pressuring me to finalise the dissolution of our PACS (our divorce basically), and I am stalling like a donkey refusing to budge from the rail tracks.
I explained that I wasn’t ready yet, and offered to do it by December so that our administrative ties would be severed for the start of 2012, a year after he left. But he wants it done now and is metaphorically (but only just) jumping up and down in frustration, threatening me so that I will sign the bloody papers. The situation is highly comical in a way because we don’t even disagree on the outcome (getting divorced), but still manage to get locked into a power-struggle just to decide when it should happen.
Why? From my side, I am holding to this like I’m in the finals at the World Championship of Stubbornness, because supremely painful decisions have been forced down my throat at a ridiculously fast pace in the last eight months, and I really want to be part of this final one, period.
More than that, I wanted to turn this symbolically charged occasion into something positive (obviously a resounding success so far, given the aggro on both sides). I wanted to take a moment to thank him for all the great times we shared, the love he gave me, the richness he brought to my life. I really wanted us to be together to acknowledge the sadness that comes with this final admission that we failed. I wanted to wish him happiness, in the manner of the A-star student in Positive Thinking Bollocks that I am.
From his side, I don’t really know what’s going on, but he’s moving on at lightening speed with his new life and probably just wants any trace of our past to be wiped out, buried six feet under and forgotten forever and ever. I’m not sure, but my guess is that I’m not the only one hurting there…
Wilson Phillips – Hold on: