The Great Divide

In an hour or so, A~ is coming by to pick up some boxes, possibly go over some of the paperwork regarding the great divide (of assets, that is). We don't have much, so it isn't complicated: just some money in the bank, a stereo, some other random articles of joint ownership. I have mixed feelings about seeing him. On one hand, I simply want the boxes gone, no contact at all. On the other, I'm feeling so pleased with how well I've come through this rough week and so sure he hasn't been nearly as well supported, I almost feel like giving him a hug.

I'd like to imagine that he has suffered as I have, that he has been consumed by the hurt of losing me, but I know that's not true. He feels bad about what he's done to me, to be sure, and I don't want to make light of that. But it's not the same. He's in love, after all. His mind is elsewhere. So I slap cold water on warm thoughts such as these.

Friends tell me, "Just wait. Give him three or four months. He'll come crawling back."

To that I say: Maybe, maybe not. I may give him a hug or two in the meantime, but I'm not waiting.