Several months ago, before my wife and I split up, we bought tickets to go see a local taping of “Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me,” the NPR news quiz show. When things went down with us, I declined the tickets. I told her I didn’t want to go with her. She told me that the tickets had been bought for us to do this together, and so if I wasn’t going, she wasn’t going. She was going to sell the tickets and split the money with me. I told her that if I decided to go, I’d go on my own.
So I did. I showed up tonight. Not really expecting to see her because, for some idiotic reason, I still have this voice in my head that tells me she means what she says, despite having been proved wrong about that numerous times in the past few months. But, she showed up, of course. With her family in tow, as was originally planned.
Oh, and guess who else she brought? The guy she cheated on me with. So now, not quite a month after I moved out, not only did he get my ticket, but apparently he’s part of the family now.
I told myself during a time of reflection yesterday that even though I was fairly certain I’d already hit rock bottom with that relationship, there are still ways that I could get fucked over. I just didn’t really expect it to be the next day.
I wanted to run over there and scream to her father and brother, “Do you know what these two are fucking doing? Do you?!?” But no, I sucked it up and tried to pay attention to the poor person I’d brought with me, and I tried to laugh and enjoy the show, and I succeeded about 50% of the time. The rest was just lost in disbelief. Our marriage was on a fucking Etch-A-Sketch, and she shook it. Poof, I’m gone! Non-person. Never existed. New season, new actor. The audience will never know the difference.
I was planning to wait until January to save up some money to file for the divorce, but fuck that. I need to know that this is in motion now. I will scrape together the funds from my next paycheck and get this started. I need out.
Why did I ever fucking bother?