I think the worst thing about a divorce is that it never goes away.
Walking through the video store, I see something I know she’d like. The reflex is: pick it up and buy it. Then, you remember. All in the span of a heartbeat, you get the elation of being in love and married, the heartbreak of remembering the break-up, the despair of being alone, and the anger that comes with it — no matter how much you both believe it isn’t anybody’s fault. It’s like a quick fix emotional rollercoaster.
I tell myself I’ve been here before. That I’ve dealt with this before. That I’ll get over it. The emotions are raw now, but they’ll fade.
Then again, I never promised someone I’d never love anybody but them before.
Before I met her, I believed love was a short-term thing. It’s like everything else: it’s born, it lives, it dies. Then, I met Jenny, and I changed my mind about everything. Was willing to give up everything to be with her.
I did. Gave up everything. And it wasn’t enough. And she told me, “Love is like everything else. It’s born, it lives, it dies.”
Now I know. But, do I go into another relationship knowing it won’t work, that it’s doomed from the start? There’s a very romantic aura about that notion. I’m still not sure if it’s true.