Just Give Her the Damn Corningware

When you get married you never make an escape plan as you walk down the aisle with your daddy. You don’t say to yourself, “man if this shit goes south in eight years you better know how to act.” You don’t get married with a plan to switch from a king size bed with breast milk stains to the bed from your Heaux Phase in college. But what would I know, I didn’t start planning my divorce until I was married for eight years. One piece of advice I will give is to never share a bed that’s large enough for you to escape each other; I’ll never make that mistake again.

All of my experience with divorce is that somebody usually messes up really bad and everybody stays mad and hates each other forever. They spend a ton of money arguing with separate attorneys over Corningware (dude, just give her the damn Corningware, you don’t even know what it is or how valuable it is. You probably didn’t even register for it, you spiteful little bitch.) and many other things. You fight over the dogs, you fight over who gets the kids, and you fight over who’s gonna get the good TV.

That didn’t happen with us. We definitely fought about stuff in the beginning. We definitely hurt each other’s feelings a lot, and we both are definitely the reason why we aren’t together anymore. But neither of us hated each other enough to fight over our stuff because one of us is bound to break or stain whatever it is regardless. We are a couple who can’t have nice things, and neither of us really are that bothered by it.

None of our TVS are even compatible to watch that Netflix show Baldersnatch or Balderdash or whatever. So nobody got the good TV in the divorce.

Achilles of course stays with the house, which stays with the boys, who stay with us both, but me after school which I am thankful for. That’s the thing about when a person you’re annoyed with isn’t in your space anymore; you see the good they actually do for you without asking for anything overly significant in return.

The moment he moved out I realized that I didn’t ‘do everything.’ I do a whole fucking lot. But I don’t do everything. And for those things I felt annoyed to have to ask for help for in the beginning, I no longer have that option. It’s funny that it came to me last night as I sat in bed, procrastinating like I enjoy doing. I ate an entire bag of walmart salad because its healthier than eating a stick of butter and I was thirsty.

Any normal day I would ask him to get me a drink and I’m faced with the option of us playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide on who gets both of us a drink. It was fun in the beginning, because he’s super easy to beat at Roshambo. He throws the same hand every time, and freezes because I stare him down. Sometimes I let him win, at the end I got annoyed because I just wanted him to get up and do it without a match.

Now I don’t have that option. I have to sit here for fifteen minutes deciding how thirsty I actually am, then drink from the bathroom faucet because no one is there to watch me. He wouldn’t have judged me anyways because he’s gross like that too.

We were lucky to have each other for as long as we did, lucky to see past our differences for our three boys and we will be lucky to have each other for the rest of our lives. I can’t regret a moment with him because we managed to create nothing short of perfection with Blake, Ty and Teddy and they love him so much. He is something for them that I can’t be; and I’m grateful for his presence in their lives.

Our biggest fear was that we would ruin their lives with this. I mentally block out the night we told Blake because it hurts too much to think about. Our greatest accomplishment together will be them in their teenage years in therapy blaming us for our personalities and not our divorce.

I’m even more grateful that I can’t hate him like I see in other divorces. I’m grateful that despite our current situation, I’m not afraid of him or in danger. He’s not skipping out on his boys and we are both aware of everything in their lives. Funny that I would write a love letter about my ex husband on April Fool’s Day, but I’m sure you can tell I’m not joking.

I’m most grateful that I got to keep the Corningware; I cooked so I deserve to be the one to break the only piece left from our registry. Seeing as how I broke the others.

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