When Your Ex Calls…

Call me what you will: cynical, crazy…whatchu got? But when my ex – Rib – texted this morning asking if we could talk, my mind immediately went dark.

It’s been a few years since we’ve talked outside of random social media interactions. Even longer since we’ve caught up in real-time.

Note to self: chill that white burgundy I got on their wine tasting trip to Portland. That’s gotta be 6 years old now?!?

Anyway. Out of nowhere came the thought, “His mom died”, and I was immediately sad. Thinking about her in the past tense. Thoughts like “She was the same age as my dad!”

Was.

Welp, I’m happy to report that guess was wrong. But the dire spirit was warranted.

He’s getting divorced.

That was in my top two reasons he’d want to talk, but by all (observed) accounts, they were strong.

Despite the reason Rib gave for them getting married – he needed insurance, which is a typical Rib dodge to a question he doesn’t want to answer – they seemed pretty solid. They’d bought a house together a year or so after getting hitched. They recently sold it for $400k more than they bought it for and had an offer on a million dollar build.

They were able to get out of that with less hoops to jump through than Elon trying to get out of his Twitter deal.

But the benchmark of our relationship was that we ended as friends. I figured breaking up with someone 18 years my junior when I was in my mid-40s was gonna be it for me, relationship-wise. A prediction that has held up, but I thought finally having an ex that became a friend was a good high water mark.

Or I had inadvertently strayed into lesbian tendencies territory. I did avoid buying a Subaru when I went car shopping, so I think I’m not in any danger of losing my Gay Card.

Using it is another, less likely story scenario.

Another moment of…not pride, but, y’know…something pride-adjacent was that he wanted to talk to me before he spoke to his family.

Especially his sister. Ironically, she’d gotten married for the same reason. Hey, I never said Rib used original material. That union also ended in divorce. After living in separate states for most of the marriage.

When I’d ended my relationship with Rib, I’d laid out my view of his worldview pretty plainly: he’d moved from his mom’s house, to his sister’s to mine. He needed to figure out who he was before he could be a real partner for someone. “You need to get the shit kicked out of you by the world for a bit” were my exact words.

We found an apartment for him and got him settled in his new life. Two weeks later his sister fixed him up with his soon to be ex-husband and they were immediately inseparable.

I was pissed at her, not him. He was just doing what he knew. She should have known better.

Anyway, a decade later, hearing his plan for his fresh start and then him finishing with, “That’s what you told me that I should do when we broke up. You were right. I don’t even know who I am right now, much less what I want!”

He was a real brat when we were dating. Fun, but a brat. But when I told him I was t dating someone with no job, no education and living with his sister, he batted down my objections with actions. Well, two of the three, he got a job a few days later and a few weeks later was asking me for help filling out financial aid paperwork for college.

I was really impressed by what this guy could do when someone expected something of him. There wasn’t much I could reasonably expect from him on the housing front, but four years later, we fixed that. At least for a few weeks.

Now he’s closing another circle in his life and I gotta hand it to him for having the insight to be able to look at his actions the last time he found himself single and decide what he wants to do differently this time.

I may not have had kids of my own to release into the world, but my MO when dating younger ‘mos had been to leave ‘em better than I found ‘em. I’m happy that I was able to see the results with Rib not once, but twice now.

Here’s hoping I get to witness the rewards he reaps for the work he’s signing up for, too. But I’m not taking my chips off the square that says “Takes his half of the house money and moves away” either.

When Your Ex Calls…

8 thoughts on “When Your Ex Calls…

  1. I’m all in on the “Takes $, moves away” square. All but one of my lived with or dated more than twice exes are dead. Several by their own hand. Another, the one who reminds me of yours, is unfindable. Like my brother. No digital footprint. How is that possible? Regardless, what did this guy do for his 10 years of marital bliss? Grow up? Nah.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yeah, there was a third trimester pause when I reminded him how much he’s always wanted to move to PDX. Followed, of course, by a “Nah…I’ll go to Palm Springs, you come visit!”
      So, I get you – grow up? Nah. But I definitely note more self-awareness in there.
      I’m fairly surprised to hear that someone is unfindable in this day and age. When I think about my exes, Rib is the only one I’d want to find – the rest I know enough about to successfully avoid or they are sharing space on the wrong side of the grass with some of yours. My college roommates, though. Then I’d love to find. Can’t believe I’m 0/3 with them! It is unbelievable.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, true. I found an eleven years dead ex I hadn’t heard from since a short, cross-country phone call in ’82 and still can’t find my brother in Tulsa… I work long distance with my college roommate to this day. He never left the home burg (Homburg?) so, he’s good for all the info on assholes from my youth who are still alive. But the girl who took off with the rent money to move back to Oklahoma? Nada. Which is good.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. I learned from my lesbian friends early on that the difference between lesbians and gays is the breakup. My lesbian friends – except one, whose ex is Brandi Carlisle – all maintained friendships with their exes. Gay men…not so much. So I made it a relationship goal. 🤓

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