"There's a hole in my neighborhood…"-Elbow

One of the hardest things to get used to since the divorce has been going out for dinner. One would think a public display of fork, knife, and napkin would be an easy concept to continue outside a relationship. One would say it's not like there's any spooning, right? One would be wrong. Together, MyUnwife and I went to dinner once a week. Alone, that number plummeted like housing sales. See? It's all her fault. She stole your equity mojo! Go ask her for your money back. Tell her Rob sent you.

Hee, hee, yeah, you probably don't want to do that.

There are two reasons I rarely go out anymore: I don't have the money, and eating alone publicly is more awkward.

"Mommy, why is that man sitting alone and crying?"

"He didn't eat his spinach when he was a little boy. Now he's living with the regret. Now eat your tofu-burger Cindy…"

Still I try to make sure I do it once in while. It's good to get out in public, and sometimes, sitting alone in a sea of coupledom allows me to think through things. Thinking wasn't last night's plan, I swear. I'd planned on an oblivious evening pecking at my computer, but the best laid plans of chickens and Rob still come up broken eggs.

It started yesterday morning. I'd run out of coffee. Fumbling in the freezer, I uncovered the emergency backup bag. I found it under a pile of Eggo rubble. I got them to leggo my coffee-o, and brushed away the ice chunks. That's when I discovered the foreboding text at the top of the bag:

"Decaf"

AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

What the hell am I going to do with that? I might as well mix it with potting soil, because it isn't going to do me any good. I needed to buy coffee, and since I was going out, I should just eat dinner out too. Maybe they'd serve me a side of coffee beans.

I Went to Islands. It's a chain place, you may have one near you. Mine is near the grocery store. 2 birds, 1 stone, piece of cake. Mmmm, tasty combo. That's not what I ordered. I ordered a Kilauea burger and onion rings. No bird, no stone, no cake.

Well it was kind of like being baked in one (the cake--I'm not going into the whole turduckin quandary); I could barely breath or move when the guy asks me how many.

"One, please."

"Really?"

Yeah, right backatcha buddy. "Yeah, it's just me."

"oh," he pauses. I think he's considering calling the manager. The training video didn't cover this emergency, "Uhm just a second."

"ok,"

I sit and wait while they prepare the kiddy table. I'm expecting my grandmother's Thanksgiving card table, but was pleased to find that I got a real table and a booster chair. I'm a big kid now. Well, except my table didn't come with somebody to eat with.

Oh well...

Somehow they've decided Gin Blossoms' Greatest Hits enhances the dining atmosphere. I couldn't disagree more. Songs of loss and regret don't sit well tonight, thank you. "Allison Road" is playing when the waitress walks up. She asks for my drink order. I ask for a Passion tea. It's really good flavorful stuff. I figure this is probably not a good beer night.

After she returns with my drink she takes the rest of my order. "Until I Fall Away" starts.

I've waited far too long For something I forgot was wrong...

Yeah, those chipper Gin Blossoms. The salt is missing from my table. What am I going to rub in my wound? My tea doesn't even come with a proper lemon wedge. It's a orange slice. Oh I'll smell citrusy, but that's about it.

Staring out the window, I look at all the couples milling to and from their cars. It must be love blooming season, because there are tons of them milling about arm in arm, hand in hand. Yeah, that's just great. I wonder why it bothers me.

My fear pretend that Ill never be in love again...

Yeah, thanks for trying guys, but I'm not sure that's it. If you could move the knife a little to the left? Thanks.

I mean it's not the obvious "Well you're divorcing, Rob." Because as hard is it is to say, MyUnwife was the furthest thing from my mind. In a way I feel guilty about that. I mean that crate of psychosis is locked up tight in the basement. So long as no crazy teenagers try to spend the night in my mental mansion, it should be fine.

I saw MyUnwife this weekend. No, silly reader, that is not an A-ha moment. Although I would almost kill for an A-ha moment. "Take on Me" would be far cheerier than "Hey Jealousy." It's playing now. Anyway, yeah. She came by. Our new favorite past time is exchanging autographs. Today it was my turn, I needed hers to complete my collection.

I know I've written that the MyWife that I married was different from the MyUnwife who left me. There's a third woman in the mix now. The woman who came by Friday to sign a few forms. She's is better person than the one who moved out. At least she seems that way. I have no intentions of pursuing her, because the other two will just get in the way, but she's fine to talk to. She's like a work acquaintance. I don't say that to be mean. I mean maybe if everything weren't locked away it would be different, but it is, so it's not. She's just like a work acquaintance.

"Some new passion, Sir?"

Oh, it's the waitress. "Yes, please." On all counts...

Maybe that's it. Am I worried that this is all there's going to be for me? Sometimes, but not now. No this is different. It's not worry...it's a gnawing. It's not really the fear that this is it, more the knowledge that I don't like this out-of-phase phase. I'm no longer in an real depression or panic, I can do this. I am doing this, but I want to move on. I need more. There has to be more than being a ghost in my own story. Everything I reach for is too tangible, and I'm too immaterial.

"Here you go sir."

Ah, my burger. I haven't come to a resolution, but I have dinner, and when I'm done, I'll have coffee. That’s enough to pull me through today.

Ill just figure everything is cool until I hear it from you...

I'm learning to hate the Gin Blossoms.