Our anniversary passed without a blip. I didn’t even notice it. I was picking up work tonight, thinking about something Donna said to me about the OOMA and stuff, started thinking about how long Donna and Tony had been married, realized that today is Mother’s Day, and suddenly, it hit me. May 11 was our anniversary. It would have been 15 years. We’d have been together almost 17 years. Wow. 17 years. And in less than a year, I forgot our anniversary.
Last year at this time, we had a huge fight about our anniversary. I had to be at a show that night (“Lloyd’s Prayer”) and he fought me about being there. I had to run sound because I was very particular about the sound and I couldn’t give it to someone else to run. I made many suggestions – let’s have dinner then go to the show; let’s celebrate the weekend before or the weekend after; how about the night before or the night after. None of these were right because he wanted to celebrate on our anniversary. I then brought up the fact that, with the path my career was taking, what would happen if I was directing a “paid” show and wasn’t available? That would be different because I would be getting paid, which made me feel that the work I had been doing meant nothing to him. I already knew we were on our way out, I was just biding my time.
It made me sad to realize that I spent almost a third of my adult life with this man and, after less than a year, I already have forgotten the most important day of our married life. What does that say about the last year of our married life?
Reading back through old journals and writing, things had been bad for so much longer than I want to admit, even now. And I’m sure he felt that way, as well. But we clung together because there was something that made us feel connected and, for a long time, our professional lives were so interconnected and worked so well that I think we mistook that for a personal relationship. I don’t think we had a personal relationship for a very long time. I have been lonely for a long time before we split up.
It’s made me feel sad and shed a few tears for what we have lost. I wish it could have been different. I wish he could have been a part of this film. I wish he could be here right now, next to me, being what I wanted him to be.
But, as I’ve realized through the past year, what I want and what he is are two very different things. It’s the same with the OOMA. I wanted him to be something that I thought he was and he wasn’t. And he won’t be that, as much as I want to will him to be.
So where does all this leave me? Alone in my living room, horoscopes that taunt me, the universe putting out very bizarre things that I can’t even begin to explain in this blog (Thursday night was just fraught with weirdness – sensing and knowing without a doubt that the OOMA was on my street as I was walking the dogs before Koji’s, a comment from him that made me sure he was there although he couldn’t/shouldn’t/wouldn’t have been there), then torturing me with horoscopes that promise wondrous things…
I’m about to move into my own apartment on June 1st and I’m thrilled and looking forward to living on my own for the first time in 17 years.
I remember moving into my own place after my first divorce. I was young, I was optimistic, I was willing to consider that there was someone else out there for me. I loved that apartment. It looked on to the legislative building in Winnipeg and it was so beautiful in the winter. I dated a very attractive albeit quite dumb guy for a very short time but at least I had someone to date for a while.
This time is different. I’m different. Again, I’m optimistic and excited about being on my own. Only this time, I think and feel like I’m going to be on my own for a long time. I’m not sure if there is another one out there, after having not succeeded twice. I’m not sure there is even another just-to-date one out there right now. I thought the OOMA would at least be someone to be with, someone I was comfortable with, someone who made me feel very, very special, which he still does. And I’m still very, very glad he’s in my life. But whether I’ve fucked it up, he’s fucked it up, we’re both not ready to even think about being together enough to be called together… anyway, I’m working very hard to put him behind me, keep him as a friend, not make him uncomfortable in my presence while I try to figure out what the hell I want in my life, if he’s someone I want in my life, if I even want someone in my life. I know the only thing I’m not looking forward to in my own place is that emptiness. At least here, there’s always my roomie to talk to, when she’s home. And she’s only going to be a door away. And Zadra’s always a phone call away and sometimes that’s close enough.
But I hope my own place will bring me to a place where I will be able to find someone to enjoy it with. I hope it is the start of the next phase of my life, where I will learn to really live on my terms, personally, professionally, romantically. I want to be able to invite someone over to sit on the couch, watch Deadwood or CSI or something entirely inane, drink something delicious, maybe even treat him to a home-cooked meal once in a while… okay, home-woked meal. Maybe eventually curl up in bed, watch Deadwood, CSI or something inane, wake to his sleepy, charming face. That would be nice.
In the meantime, anniversaries are behind me, he is behind me and there is nothing wrong with that.
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