Saturday, May 10, 2008

"you wont get no second chances …"-Pride Tiger




As the sun sets on the remainder of my marriage, I stare at the long shadows and make what I can of the day that's come and gone.


"That shadow looks like T-Rex."

"I was thinking more like Ziggy Stardust era Bowie."

"I can see that…"


Yeah it's time for personal inventory. We've already done the physical inventory. That was handled by some guys with a van and a dolly.


"Mrs. Beasley says you need to lift the refrigerator onto the truck by yourself."

GRRR.


Ok, stupid joke, but lets face it, what's been intelligent about this whole divorce thing anyway? Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not longing for what is gone.


I'm more like that guy who threw the cool party in college. When the keg was tapped, and all the freshmen lay piled around it like alcoholic kindling. Virgin sacrifices to a foamy god. Everybody who could crawl away were slugs on the sidewalk slithering towards the dorms, strange fluid sliming trails behind them. The drunk blond has stopped calling everybody her friend, she's in the neighbors yard where here real friend is now holding her hair back. The neighbor will wonder what that fetid smell is tomorrow, and you'll just shrug.


Yeah, I'm the guy left standing at the door looking at what's broken and what's salvageable. There had been good times, but they're done. It's clean up time.


Party man doesn't look back on the previous party and go, "Man I wish I could relive this night." no, he take stock and says, "There were some good times, but how can I do this better." That's me.


I'd have kept the party going on forever. Sure there were lulls. Like the one where the kid from the music theory class tells everybody, for the fourth time, how he met Dokken's hairstylist.


"I was in Target and this woman rolled out with a cart full of Aquanet--red can…"


We all know this story. We've heard it a hundred times before he got drunk. Now as he tells us how hot she was, it just becomes pathetic. So somebody gives him the bottle of Goldschlager and hopes he'll shut up. It doesn't work. He's now talking about the stalking and restraining order. He's kind of a downer. That's ok, we all err and make mistakes. It's funny because you never know, until it's over, which events made the party memorable. For better or worse.

A view through my whine glasses.

Now that most of my pains have scarred over, I'm able to see things more clearly. I see both of our flaws and wonder what we could have changed. I think the thing that bugs me most is the end.


I've sworn all along that I've done all that I could to salvage us. Did I? I mean, I couldn't have gone crawling, but could I have made it more clear that this wasn't the course I wanted?


I tell you, when she first told me she hated me and wanted out, my first thought was "Fuck you bitch." That thought isn't important. It was a knee jerk reaction to the screaming girl who'd locked herself in the bathroom and wouldn't come out until Joey Ramone came to sweep her away. Yeah, this metaphoric party happened before he died. No need to make it creepier than it already is.


My second thought though was, "ok." I didn't want it, but I was tired. I'd been standing in the bathroom line all night, I'd been polite, I'd been funny, I'd kept the potty dance down to a "too cool to dance" twitch. Screw it, there's a hedge out back. It works just fine.


I walked. Sure I can point and say "She left first," but that doesn't refill the keg. So I didn't want the divorce. If I were a talking doll, that could be one of the expressions when you pulled my string. "I didn't want the divorce." "She left." "Hey man, I really love you man. You know you're like a brother to me…"


But did I give it my all? That keg stand record for the night was 20 seconds. You tried it but only got to 15. You gave up. Only you know if it was possible to do that extra 6 seconds and come out the champion. It would haunt you if you remembered it.


In the end I did what I thought was right. I'll second guess myself on that forever. That's just one of the scars. The best thing for me to do now is to learn from it. If I find somebody who loves me despite the kind of parties I throw, maybe I'll know better. Maybe I can throw the kind of party that won't end: till death us do part.


In the meantime, I'm making a list and restocking the shelves. I've got a lot of cleaning to do before I throw another party.


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