My toothbrush. I had an odd conversation with my toothbrush yesterday. Err, uh about—about my toothbrush. Ok, not necessarily my toothbrush but an extended metaphor involving dental hygene. I really do have one you know, a toothbrush. You'll be happy to know I use it. I know that people I talk to are pleased. They smile. I smile. No dangling black stuff. Everybody's happy.
Wouldn't it be nice if marriage were that easy? A few minutes a day and everything shines and smells like mint. So my marriage died, but my toothbrush, it's electric; it goes on. MyUnwife chose it. It has interchangeable heads and is really kind of cool. And if I hang onto it two more years, it will have lasted longer than we did.
When she left, I'm guessing she bought a new toothbrush, having abandoned her old one behind. Then again, who knows. Maybe she doesn't want a new toothbrush, some people don't.
It's funny now that I think about it. Throughout our marriage we used to talk about what we'd do if something happened to the other one. "Something" could have been anything from divorce to plane crash to a mad man with an axe. I remember during our 3rd or 4th year we'd joke about how best to split our stuff. Well, she joked. It wasn't really on my mind, I just went along for the ride. Besides, like the toothbrush, she picked most of the things we owned. Oh, I'm not saying that she's some kinda control freak with a credit card. Ok, I'm also not saying that isn't true, I'm just saying that that's not what I'm saying.
No, really. What I mean is that as long as we could afford it, I didn't care so much about the stuff side of things. The type of things I like are things like stereo equipment TVs and other electronics. We just bought our first TV together right before the divorce, and I never replaced my stereo. It's still the same one I had from college. Ok, that's not completely accurate. She got me a mini system for Christmas during our cute years. I really would have rather have bought components. I like the sound better, but the price is close to what we spent on her couch, and we couldn't afford that for a stereo. No, besides, I wanted music in the living room, and she wanted something invisible there. I can't blame her; who wants towers of sound taking up space. Well I do, but I understand: speakers are either built for aesthetics or sound, never for both. If I wanted sound She'd have to deal with giant boxes with hubcaps superglued to the front. You can't really disguise that.
"This is our uhm aquarium. Yes I know, you can't see the fish. But if you stick your ear next to it you can hear them breath."
And so, I picked a small invisible system. A living room compromise. Don't get me wrong, there was never a fight, or a hassle, it was just understood. That's how couples work. That's why when she wanted to buy the sofa, or the entertainment center I said "sure."
That's also why when we'd joke about who got what, I already knew the answers. I already knew what I had signed up for. The stuff wasn't important anyway. Maybe because she chose it, or maybe, as I'd like to think, it's because the stuff isn't why I got married. See? It makes me shine like a glistening god of altruism. Lord Rob, Neon Paragon. Yes, you can touch me as you pass. I won't smudge.
As time passed, we still joked, but the last few years I could tell the joking was less joke and more calculating. I can't explain it but the humor was gone, it felt more like searching a hillside for a vein of ore. Or like going to the eye doctor's.
You like couch or table?
Couch.
Treadmill or TV?
Can I see Treadmill again?
Treadmill...
And TV?
Or TV?
TV…
She got what she wanted. I gave her first fruits of everything. Sometimes I'm a little bitter about that, but not because of the stuff. More because I thought I married the type of person who wouldn't take it. Then again I thought I'd married the type of person who wouldn't drop when somebody shook the tree.
The good news is that I kept my toothbrush. The real one. The metaphoric one is gone, but I've got strong teeth.
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