I didn’t want anyone thinking I still care

Yesterday I saw the ex after about 24 hours of no contact. I think that is the longest no contact we have had since we started dating. Even when we were “casually dating” and still seeing other people, we usually checked in frequently with each other. It took a long time for us to decide to make it a relationship. He didn’t want to give up the single life and I didn’t want to fall in love with a guy that was 1. Younger than me, 2. Was still living a “party lifestyle”, 3. Was pretty immature, even with being younger than me.

Yet, after dating (casually) for 9 months, I found myself with a guy that I wasn’t sure how I felt about but he was serious about me. Except my feelings for Douche Bag seemed to get stronger that more I pushed him away. I told him we couldn’t be friends any more, at least right now.  I gave him my reasons for calling it off; He was a young immature guy who wasn’t ready to settle down; he drank too much, saw too many women, and everything was a joke. I was ready to find someone that did want that. He agreed that he wasn’t ready to settle down. Then we got drunk together and he admitted he did have feelings for me and it wasn’t until he saw me with (the other guy I was seeing) that he realized how he felt. We talked about what a future together might look like. He said he was ready to have something of meaning.  The first thing he mentioned was that he wanted biological children. I already had 4 kids who were teens/preteens. I had given up all the baby and toddler things and moved on to the world of video games, dating, and instagram selfies. But I agreed.  Motherhood was natural to me and I guess part of me wanted back what I missed with my older 4.

I separated from my ex hubsand in 2008. The recession was all over the news and I was freshly out of a long period as a stay at home mom. It took a long time to get a job and even longer to work into hours and pay that kept me out of constant panic about money. A degree in “Community Health and Social Sciences” was all dandy when I had a husband to pay for things. Not such a great plan when most of those type of jobs paid shit wages. Poverty is knowing your electricity will be turned off every January because you can’t afford your heat bill and the only way you will get utility assistance is to be with out power for 4 days. It’s working the swing shift when you kids are in school all day so the only time you really talk to them is when you call on your lunch break to tell them a bed time story.

Now I am looking at doing the single mom things all over again and it terrifies me. As much (or maybe more) than staying with a man that can’t be faithful.

I have a better paying job now and better hours. Even still, going back to one income means living pay check to pay check again. It means no impromptu zoo trips, driving with your engine light on and hoping your car doesn’t die before you pull together enough money for your sisters sleezy boyfriend of the moment to put the part in, not sure if he really knows what he is doing. It means living with a broken furnace for an entire winter because you can’t afford to fix it.

I have never been a materialistic person. I drive an old van from the 90s because it still runs and I can’t justify spending money to replace it because of looks. (Well… okay, it doesn’t blow heat or AC (not a fan problem, but a vent problem), one of the doors doesn’t open, I have to manually lift the window into place and the side doors leak…. but it fits my family comfortably, my insurance is dirt cheap, and it refuses to freaking die. The point is, I don’t care about whether I have a flat screen TV. My furniture is all used and mismatched and I have held onto a lot of things when wishing I had something nicer because they still function.

But I can’t wait until the money rolls in to take my kids to the damn over priced pumpkin patch. I have spent too many Christmas’s with donated gifts under the trees of things that didn’t really match my kids interests. Many birthdays not having birthday parties because I couldn’t afford to throw them. I want Disneyland vacations and I want a fucking dog. I don’t want to share custody of my babies again. I don’t want to split holidays and vacations.

The Douche Bag wants to make it work because… because he is dumb, to be honest. This is his deal. Blow things up, make a big deal of fixing it, and once it is all fixed, blow it up again. I don’t even know if he realizes how bad he has broken things. I don’t know if he realizes that you can’t slap a band-aid on this and go about your life. I am not sure… after all this time… if he even know if he loves me as much as he just… wants chaos. He lacks any insight.. Maybe it’s his history of addiction. Maybe it’s his ADHD. Maybe he is just… really fucking stupid.