The man creates his own drama by being painfully unaware and unengaged in his life. Knowing it from the safety of my own apartment is one thing; living with it on a daily basis is going to drive me nuts…

(Oh wait, I suppose we could argue that I’ve already munched out on those nuts and am now just a few fries short of a Happy Meal. It’s true enough.)

The kid has a field trip coming up next week.
The paperwork and money was due yesterday.
We knew about this about a month ago.

I asked him to please make sure that he paid the money. He acknowledged my words and said that he would…about a month ago.

The agreement is that he takes care of any financial needs of the kid. The value I add is time, effort and management…into both of them, it seems.

The ex isn’t the type that will just go ahead and handle things. He procrastinates. Then he forgets. And then, I have to remind him and manage him towards action. It’s a ridiculous pattern that made me seasick when we were together and that’s making me facepalm more than ever, in the here and now. Because he doesn’t just buck up and handle his shit, I feel like I’ve got a grown child on my hands that needs to be babied through each responsibility that he has to conquer.

(It wasn’t a very good pattern to help avoid the whole “nagging wife” syndrome when we were still married. Just thinking about it makes me cringe. I hated being in that – mostly constant – situation. I shouldn’t have to nag. You should have your act together – most of the time: no one is perfect…)

Oh god. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.

You can see why – this being my perspective – I lost “that lovin’ feeling.” It’s hard to feel like you’re partnering with someone who acts like a child a majority of the time.

(It’s even harder to want to have sex with said person.)

And so, this morning, I reminded him again.

“I filled out the form that appeared in the kid’s folder again, so it’s all ready to go.”

(I can only assume that the teacher provided us with another form since we hadn’t turned ours in. And here I thought he had actually handled it. Kudos that I am currently taking back.)

He sighs dramatically and starts taking out his wallet. I walk away to offer my focus and attention to the kid: to making sure the he is actually brushing his teeth and not just chewing on the brush. I hear heavy sighs and whispers of “dammit” coming from the kitchen. It makes me ill with that old familiar sinking feeling.

“Well, that stinks,” he says as an explanation.

“Did you not prepare well?” I know that I have a closed expression on my face, one that is he all too familiar with.

“I wasn’t paying attention when I got my change back from dinner last night. I was suppose to get $12 back which means I would have had enough for the field trip costs, but I only got back $7. So now I’m short.”


It’s moments like these when I actually hate him and lose all trust in the belief that he actually cares. To you, that may be too strong of a reaction over something so trivial. But after years of being let down by the guy who says he loves you, he wants a family, he cares for his family, he wants to take care of his family, he wants to engage with his son, he wants to be there with him, he wants me back, he cares, he cares, he cares…it’s just another confirmation of the fact that he’s a poser and not really willing to make any effort beyond himself to invest in his family (the same damn thing applies to his attitude towards personal property, or else I wouldn’t be here).

Deep breath.
Avoid eye contact.

“Let me go see if I have any money,” I answered evenly.

I had two dollar bills. I took them downstairs. He’s got a butt load of change in his car that he can use to make up the rest that’s due. Or he can just cope with life the way that any of the rest of us would: go to a market where you can get cash back for a purchase and ask for change instead of a high-dollar bill.

It’s not the end of the world.
But by the way he was sighing and cursing under his breath, you’d think it was.

(Note: In the grand scheme of things, waiting until the last minute to get something done is typical – we are all guilty of that and I am one of the worst offenders. But the way he handles it – he’s known for a month that he needed to turn in this money and has avoided it until the day after it was due, then blames it on one event in which he wasn’t paying close enough attention and someone ripped him off, and then spends the moment of realization huffing and puffing, cursing and muttering, sighing and dying…it’s too much drama for me. I want to tell him: “Just buck up and get some cash. Stop whining and get out of the house so that you can still be on time. Sure, it sucks. I’m sorry that you didn’t get the right change back last night. I’m sorry that you’re going to be rushed and running late this morning. But good god, you could’ve just turned in the money last month.”)

This morning’s rant is over.
Happy Thursday.