Some days just don't end up how one expects.
Around 9 p.m., I got a text from my ex-wife (she's back, everyone! ๐) trying to guilt me into coming to see her. As my financial situation has not recently improved, I explained this was not in the budget.
The usual "whatever" sort of gaslighting ensues. After rent (which includes all utilities), I have $500 a month for everything else; $70 on a round-trip Lyft is not a rounding error. So it's not like I could totally afford it but was grasping for an excuse.
Somehow, after I'm just not putting up with her bullshit for long enough, she asks for my address. And then informs me that she's on her way.
So, a couple of things here: I'm renting a room from a family. They've heard of her, of course, but in the abstract. As such, I need to explain that unexpected plans are already in motion, and would they mind too terribly much if she arrives at an odd hour?
She did have one mitigation plan for this: she brought weed. And while I have no idea what the reaction to her was, I can't imagine that hurt as a peace offering.
A new problem arises: I do not have beer for two. This quickly becomes a nonissue as Ra invites her on a beer run (meaning my ex-wife and my landlord had plenty to time to talk about me as a common reference point, should they so choose).
Worth noting here is this is the first time since the divorce 10 years ago later this week that she has unilaterally paid for everything to see me. When we started interacting again last fall, we'd split transportation costs.
So, everyone's stoned, there's beer aplenty, and, well, we retire to my room. Her collar is somehow just as spiky as when I got it in 2011, but I no longer have the proper callouses in my neck, so I definitely noticed.
The takeaway I have from what otherwise feels like a disjointed evening is that community is important -- I'm doing far better than I was in my van, as she pointed out -- real connection is still necessary.
By about 1:30 a.m., she decides it's time to head home, having met her quota of orgasms. She ends up fighting with apps to get a ride home for 15 minutes while I'm pressed against her flesh.
I should explain the fridge situation.
The things that came with this new build (as of six years ago) tend to suck. So, there's this really nice built-in fridge. But it doesn't work. There's a second fridge in the kitchen that does.
It's also full of food, cold and lit, so I'm not sure what indicators led her to place cold beer in a thick ambient box, but here we are.
At any rate, I wake up this morning to several texts from her. The first reminds me that there's "shitty beer in the warm fridge." Honestly, likely a good reminder, as the night was a bit of a blur.
From there, the tenor changes: "Thank you for your hand and body and tongue and just freaking with my 'me' tonight."
When I ordered a beer delivery today, I was surprised to see my Koozie on Ra's car from when my ex's Lyft arrived. The beer was nearly full, so I dumped it out while the driver got out of her car.
The next text was "invasively uninvited or not, I needed you tonight."
"... and then I already sickly miss you FUCK."
When I say we aren't done, it's not some romantic notion that maybe we could reconnect. The problem was disconnection. Her body still feels like part of mine.
Oh, and she accidentally left a sweater here.