Normal people celebrate Independence Day on July 4th. . . but I've never proclaimed to be normal. I love my country and I’ve never turned down an opportunity to eat cake, so I’ll be singing happy birthday and licking frosting off my fingers with my fellow Americans tomorrow, but as it turns out, Independence Day came twice for Princess D this year.
If you’ve been paying attention, you know that 14 months ago, my long-term relationship of 14 years went kaput. What you might not know is this: Mr. Wrong and I were pretty amicable until just about six months ago. Now, I know that some of you might be wondering what the heck amicable means. Before you go right to the bad place, let me just say this – “amicable” in this scenario means that we hung out; ate pizza; drank beer; exchanged Christmas gifts, toasted champagne as we rang in the new year together, and even took a vacation together. (Yes, Mom, you’re right. I did lie to you about that. I went to confession already, though, and since the Catholic Church has forgiven me, I know you can get over it.) We exchanged text messages, talked on the phone, and spent most of our non-work time together. In fact, had we not been living in separate houses and sleeping in our own beds – separately – our relationship hadn’t really changed all that much.
We had a little falling out back in January . . . right around the time I started this blog, as a matter of fact. While my blogging has occasionally put me into awkward positions with a variety of friends, foes, and frogs, I assure you that the blog is entirely innocent in our altercation. Here’s the Cliff Notes version of what went down: On a cold winters’ night, I had dinner with a friend. On my way home from dinner, about a block from my house, I lost control of my car on an icy, poorly plowed city street and crashed into a snow bank. It was pretty late at night and out of habit, my first response was to call Mr. Wrong for help. Unfortunately, I woke him up and when his slumber is disturbed, Mr. Wrong is a real dick. I was pretty shaken up by the whole crashing the car thing, and what I needed was help and support. What I got was unleashed fury and a verbal attack that sucked just as much as the car accident.
The whole thing left me pretty shell-shocked, and also more than a little pissed. It’s one thing to call someone names – it’s another to fling around synonyms for prostitute at someone you’re supposed to care about. And when I calmed down, I realized that Mr. Wrong was no friend of mine. That was the last time I spoke to him . . . until PseudacrisBrachyphona.com decided that we should date.
After a six month vow of silence and several forays into the dating world with Frogs #4 – 6, the internet suggested that Mr. Wrong and I would be perfect for one another. Because the only thing larger than my mouth is my ego, I couldn’t let it go. The very idea of Mr. Wrong getting an email from PseudacrisBrachyphona.com about me – and worse, knowing that I couldn’t find a man in real life and was resorting to internet dating like some desperate loser – well, it was too much for my fragile ego and battered self-esteem to bear. I could just picture him, sitting at his laptop, laughing at my expense and I knew that I couldn’t allow him to win. So . . . I decided the preventative strike was my best defense, and I emailed him.
I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t give two shits about what Mr. Wrong thinks about me. He decided that he was too good for our life together – he didn’t want to live in the ‘hood in our modest home with our loveable mutt anymore. He took my toys and his Lexus and moved to a 4 bedroom, 4 bathroom McMansion. Alone. Even as a therapy graduate, I sometimes do stupid things and that’s my best explanation for the email I sent.
We exchanged a few emails back and forth. And then a couple of days ago, Mr. Wrong sent me a text message. Yesterday, I met him for breakfast. It was the first time I’ve laid eyes on him in over six months. Did he fall on his knees and beg me for forgiveness? No. Did he proclaim his undying love for me? No. Did I beg him to reconsider and take me back? No. I did eat a cinnamon roll, made some small talk and realized once and for all that I have moved on. All in all, it was an uneventful meeting until we got up to leave and he moved in for a hug that I wasn’t prepared for and didn’t really want. (It was so awkward that he actually apologized afterward.)
As I drove away feeling strangely ambivalent, I realized that Independence Day came a couple of days early for Princess D. When Mr. Wrong left, I was a wreck. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to take care of myself, my house, and my dog on my own. I’d be lying if I said I passed the living on my own test with flying colors (and my brother would be the first one to bust me on that, since he gets most of the frantic phone calls) but I’ve also learned a lot. Six months ago, I didn’t know how to check my car tire pressure or refill the windshield washer fluid . . . or even open the hood if we’re being really honest here. Now I can do all those things. I know how to replace the batteries in my smoke detector and thermostat. I figured out how to lift up the heavy bags of dog chow. I bought a AAA membership so I don’t have to wake my brother or friends up every time my car won’t start. And some wonderful, generous friends took pity on a princess in distress and are helping me with my yard work. I no longer need Mr. Wrong – or any man – to take care of me.
Will Mr. Wrong and I eventually become friends? I don’t think so. We might be friendly, but we’ve treated each other so poorly in the nearly 15 years we’ve known each other that friendship is probably out of the question. I wouldn’t treat my worst enemy (whose first name starts with B, by the way) the way I treated Mr. Wrong, and while I forgive him for what transpired, I can’t forget how easy it was for him to turn his back on me when I needed him most. I do, however, appreciate the Independence Day gift I received from Mr. Wrong today.
I got the lawn mower back. Now I have to learn how to use it.
“Let freedom ring, let the white dove sing. Let the whole world know that today is a day of reckoning. Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong. Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay. It’s Independence Day,” – Martina McBride
Cue the fireworks. There’s an independent princess on the loose.
© 2010 Princess D
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