Chicky Chicky Baby: the ex

I found out today that my ex-husband is divorcing his second wife. Or she's divorcing him. Either way in the game of marriage he'll be a two-time loser and I don't know what to think about that. I'm conflicted.

On the one hand I don't wish him any ill will as he is, and always has been, a really good guy. Mister Excitement? No. Mister Always-Has-The-Right-Thing-To-Say? Uh uh. But Mister Would-Give-You-The-Shirt-Off-His-Back? Oh yeah. And he doesn't deserve to be divorced twice before his fortieth birthday.

However...

(You knew that was coming, right? C'mon, even if I hadn't set you up with my previous comment about being conflicted you had to know that if I'm talking about my ex it isn't going to be all sunshine, ponies and rainbows. Or rainbow colored ponies who shoot sunshine out of their asses.)

He married a twit, plain and simple. No, not me - although, I'm sure he has called me worse than that in his darkest moments and probably out in broad daylight too - but the woman he married after me. I believe their relationship was a knee-jerk reaction to our break-up. I don't think he was really thinking straight when he decided that she was going to be The One.

(If you've ever been divorced and remarried you know that you never, ever (ever ever ever ever ever), want to go through that again. So, if the first one doesn't take then the second one should be the charm. Right? Right??)

(I've already told Mr. C he'd have to do something really horrible to get rid of me 'cause I ain't goin' nowhere, baby. Uh uh.)

So, about this woman. She's got three kids by two different guys - none of them being my ex's - but that's not what makes me think she's a twit. Entirely. It's the other small tidbits of information that I know about her, combined with the kid thing, that made me scoff when I heard they were getting married in the first place. Tidbits of information that I will not share here on this blog because I? Am a lady.

Stop laughing. I always cover my mouth when I sneeze and I almost always feel horrible when I take the Lord's name in vain.

But Jesus H. Christ...

When you marry someone, you profess your undying love and devotion to someone, even if you're fibbing a bit, you hope that the other person is happy in their decision to legally wed you for ever and ever, Amen. You'd like to think that because they picked you their taste is impeccable. You're a catch, dammit.

And by "you" I mean "me".

I'm a catch, dammit.

I may not be sushi-grade tuna but I'm choice salmon. Haddock? Scrod? You'd be lucky to serve me in your restaurant and not as an early bird special.

What was I saying?

My ex went ahead and married this woman and it didn't work and I feel badly for him - but I wonder why, if he had such great choice in women (women that would rip his heart out and stomp on it, but still) why he chose her?

And why am I concerned about this?

Because I care? Sure. Because I was right about their marriage? Okay, yes. Because it's one more thing to question about my twenties and the choices I made?

Uh.........

----------------------

And, yes, I'm avoiding the meme that Julie tagged me for. Mainly because it's freaking me right the fuck out. But I will get to it soon, pinky swear.

Also, thank you (again and again and again) for all your kind words and encouragement about Chicky's appointment with EI (didn't I already say that once?). I especially thank those of you who sent me private emails with stories about your personal experiences and those of you who said you had the same fears about your kids but haven't yet contacted the experts. I promise to keep you posted.

(Yeah, like I have a choice. My insecurity trumps my good sense. And my pride.)

Oh! (Christ this is getting long) If you have any interest in how old I think your kid should be before getting a puppy you can go here. Or not. Eh, whatever. I'm flexible.