Over the weekend, I saw the mother of my ex "love of my life."
I had not seen that woman in... ages, and I don't even know why... but one minute I was minding my own business and next thing I knew, she was right in front of me.
I wanted to cry.
She was such a nice lady. So kind. And sweet.
I know people talk shit about "momma's boys" but honestly, I love them. Guys who love their mothers have my respect... mainly because I have a brother, and I would punch any fucking bitch who complains about my brother's love/respect for his mother.
This guy, was a complete momma's boy. And this woman loved me. She appreciated the fact that I liked her son so much... because she clearly lived for her boy.
The way she'd look at me... and hug me... and speak to me, made me melt.
The problem? Her son did not like me as much as I liked him.
When shit hit the fan, and we had to go our separate ways, I purposely avoided this woman, because I'd nearly break down each time I'd have to see her.
It hurt to have to act like I was ok, like I didn't miss her son, or feel stupid over what had happened between us.
My world would collapse and I'd be back at square one, once again trying to build my wall back up.
When I saw her on Saturday, my heart raced, and a smile crept across my face.
All on its own.
I involuntarily waved and smiled my typical, huge, real smile.
Her eyes are sad now. She has frown lines. She's a broken woman.
It broke my heart.
She's divorced now... from the love of HER life, the father of her two (equally handsome-but-idiotic) sons.
One son is in prison... and the other one, the ex-love of my life? He's a drug-addict... father of three.
No doubt I dodged a huge fucking bullet...
But that doesn't mean I didn't want to hug her and tell her everything would be ok... even if in the back of my mind I know I'd be speaking a lie.
"Me dio mucho gusto volverla a ver, señora."
Delighted to have seen you again, ma'am.
I squeezed her hands, turned my back, and walked towards my car.
I had not seen that woman in... ages, and I don't even know why... but one minute I was minding my own business and next thing I knew, she was right in front of me.
I wanted to cry.
She was such a nice lady. So kind. And sweet.
I know people talk shit about "momma's boys" but honestly, I love them. Guys who love their mothers have my respect... mainly because I have a brother, and I would punch any fucking bitch who complains about my brother's love/respect for his mother.
This guy, was a complete momma's boy. And this woman loved me. She appreciated the fact that I liked her son so much... because she clearly lived for her boy.
The way she'd look at me... and hug me... and speak to me, made me melt.
The problem? Her son did not like me as much as I liked him.
When shit hit the fan, and we had to go our separate ways, I purposely avoided this woman, because I'd nearly break down each time I'd have to see her.
It hurt to have to act like I was ok, like I didn't miss her son, or feel stupid over what had happened between us.
My world would collapse and I'd be back at square one, once again trying to build my wall back up.
When I saw her on Saturday, my heart raced, and a smile crept across my face.
All on its own.
I involuntarily waved and smiled my typical, huge, real smile.
Her eyes are sad now. She has frown lines. She's a broken woman.
It broke my heart.
She's divorced now... from the love of HER life, the father of her two (equally handsome-but-idiotic) sons.
One son is in prison... and the other one, the ex-love of my life? He's a drug-addict... father of three.
No doubt I dodged a huge fucking bullet...
But that doesn't mean I didn't want to hug her and tell her everything would be ok... even if in the back of my mind I know I'd be speaking a lie.
"Me dio mucho gusto volverla a ver, señora."
Delighted to have seen you again, ma'am.
I squeezed her hands, turned my back, and walked towards my car.
1 comment:
Just because you know you dodged a bullet doesn't necessarily make it easier to deal with. I definitely did with 'The Model' but it took a while to get over her. Longer than it should've. (That seems to be a pattern for me.) It wasn't until I saw her name on the county's most wanted fugitives list that I actually felt relief instead of sorrow that it was over. Ha!
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