Very few messages from the ex-y are welcoming and warm. That’s fine. We’ve stripped down to the bare metal in our relationship. What do you need? When is the transfer? Can you take her to volleyball on Tuesdays?
And for the most part, things are fairly simple and civil, until there’s a problem. Then it’s either a minor issue, an escalation of a minor issue into a more important one, and on up to a crisis. We’ve got a crisis on our hands lately. It’s about one of our dogs. The old fella we rescued a year before the divorce. I should say, “she” rescued, because it was 100% her deal.
So the old fella doesn’t like cold weather. And when it’s cold and rainy outside he tends to skip the brisk exit into the back yard and he takes care of his business inside somewhere. Okay, we can solve for that. So he’s in a fenced-in tile area in her house. It’s a pain in the ass, but we’re not too far from better weather. And, in fact, if all goes to plan, we’re weeks away from me re-housing and having a place for him in my environment.
But… That’s not usually the way things work. Something escalates and she begins to spin up the BFC drive. (Big Fkin Crisis)
Over the weekend we started the march towards a confrontation. She was convinced that the dog was ready to be put to sleep. I was convinced she was overreacting due to my new job, the promise of a steady income stream, and a host of other variables that tend to flare up for her when something great happens in my life. On Monday the full-blown ISSUE had caught fire. And after several furious texts I simply said my piece, “Deal with the fkin dog for two more weeks,” and stopped responding to her texts that arrived every two minutes for at least 20 minutes. I wasn’t even reading them at this point.
On Tuesday she sent a text that started, “I hate to text you about this kind of thing, but …”
I didn’t respond. About 10-minutes later she sent an email. I responded.
We made plans according to her needs and fears. She would take the dog to the vet on Friday for evaluation and an overnight. On Saturday we would pick him up together, with our daughter, to get the jointly heard and jointly approved plan for the burning crisis, that to me just seemed like an old dog who didn’t want to go out in the cold to poop.
Yesterday she texted me if she could take the kids on Saturday to the gym with her. My Saturday. I reminded her that we were picking up the dog at that time. She started a renegotiation dialogue which I shut down with a “I’d rather you not take them to the gym on my weekend.”
I don’t want to renegotiate. The crisis was not necessary on Monday, and we came up with a plan during the crisis of Wednesday to take care of the crisis… WTF? So I asked a reasonable question.
Then of course, yadda yadda yadda.
Well, here’s the deal. It wasn’t a crisis on Monday, though she made it a crisis. It’s not a crisis today. She’s relaxing back into “we’ll just take him whenever” mode and it makes me a little pissed that she’s ramped up so much BS around a non-issue and now she’s going to drop it?
Maybe she was fking with me all along. Either way, I’m writing here on my anonymous blog rather than to her. Because there is no discussion that needs to happen.
Yeah, let’s let that sleeping dog keep sleeping.
Oh crap, here comes another one…
It’s 4:15 on Friday afternoon. I am picking the kids up after school from her house. Should I push the issue or just release and breathe?
But wait, the story continues here, twenty minutes later: The Best Will Come Out, Eventually… But First This
The Off Parent
< back to The Hard Stuff posts
- The Winter of My Discontent: Ex-Partners and Co-Parents
- Patience Please, I’m Doing The Best I Can
- This Is Going To Hurt – Divorce With Children
- What An Angry or Distant Divorced Parent Looks Like
- The Fk You That Keeps On Giving
- AG’s Office Round Two: Dead Beat Dad – 0, Bank $43,000
image: texts from my ex – google images, creative commons usage