My Two Household Family

Do you know those people who divorce and then get remarried to the same person? And then everyone else stands around scratching their heads wondering what just happened?

I’m starting to understand.

Something near three years ago, The Irishman and I started seeing each other. Now, I’m prepared to admit that I moved in way too soon, and that many other aspects of our particular timetable were slightly off kilter, but what can you do? I seem to have a penchant for moving things along at something like warp speed. Not clever, and never seems to turn out well, and yet here I am, still doing the thing.

Anyway, from the sound of the gun at the starting line, things have been challenging, right? But I am also prepared to admit that in point of fact I can be challenging, so it’s hard to know exactly who is presenting which aspect of the challenges. In any event, there has been much frustration.

Within the last year we have “broken up” at least three times, but life being what it is, it never really worked out for either of us to actually physically leave, so we kept falling back into some semblance of relationship, as much out of convenience and habit as anything else.

Recently I met someone of an older and wiser variety who is a delightful human and has given me much in the way of good advice. A significant portion of which has been with regard to relationships, specifically not tolerating bad ones.

By this time I had given up on the idea of getting out of my relationship, because it was too depressing to contemplate, so I decided to make some attempts at more honest communication and see what that accomplished.

It was rather remarkable.

During the course of a conversation, I explained that the trouble as I saw it was that our styles of life are too different from each other. The way I want to live makes him genuinely uncomfortable (to be fair, the idea of the way I want to live makes most people uncomfortable, but still. It’s how I want to live!) and the way he wants to live makes me feel sad all the time.

He said, “I don’t want you to feel sad all the time.” And then he went out the next day and got his own apartment.

Now, I’ve been whining and moaning and complaining for these two years about how I need to be with someone I can respect, someone strong and independent and blah, blah, blah, and then this! This was actually a pretty stand-up sort of thing to do. I mean, this is solid, respectable behavior.

So what the heck am I supposed to do now?

The other thing I’m noticing is that I really just need a lot of time alone, and The Irishman and The Child are absolute failures at giving anyone any space. If you are physically present, they must be interacting with you at least once per minute or they will implode. If you are not physically present, they will call you at least every five minutes to tell you the same thing they told you the last time you called. It drives me mad. And with The Irishman working nights and being home days, there’s just no peace to be had.

Having a separate house is delightful. I know exactly when my solitary time will be, and there is no one here to intrude on it. And when I go over there or they come over here, I know better than to expect any solitude. The boundaries are clearer. There is space. And I find I enjoy his company, and even that of The Child, far more than previously.

So here we all are, being weird and crazy; together, but separate; back and forth to each other’s houses all the time. I don’t even know what to think of it myself. It’s so odd. Not what I was expecting my life to be. But then, if it works… why not?

I don’t suppose I’ll spend a lot of time dwelling on it since it’s entirely possible the whole situation will shift in some unexpected direction within the next ten minutes as that seems to be the way my life goes.

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