I was but a girl of 28 when I met him, which is to say, I was a complete moron with my head so far up my ass, I could have given myself a colonoscopy had the lighting been a bit better. Long ago, I figured out his half of the responsibility for things tanking; it has only been in the last three or four years that I've not only accepted my own, but fully understood it.
We had a thoroughly enjoyable visit, which was not entirely surprising, since we were and are both very funny people. (Humble, too!) What was surprising, and pleasantly so, was the utter and complete feeling of relaxation about the event. For the first time in...oh, 15 or so years, nobody had an agenda and everyone was there to listen. Myself included. I was not always the paragon of communication I am today; in fact, much as Tom Leykis often says he understands the sh*t people do to each other because he has done it all, en route to becoming the communicatrix, I erred in pretty much every way one can when it comes to knowing yourself, hipping the rest of the world to it and sticking to your guns.
The only weirdish part of today's field trip was an unscheduled stop at The Chief Atheist's crib. He'd become a homeowner since we split up and was rightly proud of it, this ain't an easy market for non-millionaires to break into.
The place itself was perfectly nice and not weird at all (the restroom was a particularly welcome sight), but it was mighty strange to visit furniture and mementos I'd spent so much time around in previous lives. The Chief Atheist was a great fan of my paternal grandparents and inherited quite a few pieces when they passed on; seeing the tables and chairs I'd eaten Jell-O on as a five-year-old was more than I was prepared to deal with on a random Tuesday morning.
I am not friends with all of my ex-es. I'm not even sure I would like to be. The Chief Atheist and I agreed that the meeting was nice and that in a perfect world, other such meetings would happen maybe 2 or 3 times a year.
And that was that. I came, I caffeinated, I drove to Trader Joe's, where my conversation with the checker about the ongoing lack of Gerolsteiner (they're mid-repackaging, apparently) was just as drama-laden as the one I'd just come from with the man I was married to for 8 1/2 years.
It was a nice place to visit. Now that neither one of us wants to live there anymore...