Strike While the Irony is Hot

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I’ve written this before, but for me, love isn’t like a faucet that you can turn on and off.  Everyone I’ve ever loved, I still love in some way.  This is hardest to accept with my mother, who opted out of motherhood when I was little.

That sort of thing happens. It sucks, but it happens.  I’ve heard all sorts of odd statements like “Don’t you miss your mother?”  I mean, of course I do, and I would if she were dead, too, but she doesn’t love me.  “Love” doesn’t work in the imperative.  I can’t say “Love me!” to my mother, however much I would like to.  (If you’d like to test this hypothesis, try demanding love from any self-respecting cat.  At best they might look at you funny and lick their paws while ignoring you.  At worst you’re likely to lose an eye.)

For me, loving in permanence also works for friends, boyfriends and so forth.  There is a woman who I can’t be friends with who I still love.  I saw her for the first time in years a while back, and it was so pleasant to see that she is doing well and is happy.  Then she came out with one her her cruel, short-sighted statements and I knew that while I still care for her, we cannot be friends. Not a big deal.

So my soon-to-be-ex-husband is still someone I care about.  He wants to climb with me from time to time.  That’s what we did together, although it was less and less towards the end. But the Far-Away-Boy, the man I think I was put on this planet to find and love, doesn’t get it, not really.

So this week I was in the oddest and most ironic of situations.  I went climbing with my husband and didn’t actually lie about it to my boyfriend, but glossed over the whole day and talked about a REALLY interesting documentary that I’d seen on TV.

I was cheating on my boyfriend to go hang out with my husband.

I sometimes think that if I hadn’t met the F-A-B, I might have found a way to keep my marriage together.  Like if I’d stayed single all this time, and we were meeting like we met this week, we might have found a way to be together again.  My husband has so much more respect for me now than he did when I’d become his doormat. He’s kinder and listens more.  But I wouldn’t have missed out on meeting my true love for anything in the world. If I’m patient, the F-A-B will get it someday.

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