Today I celebrated what would have been mine and his 17th anniversary....alone.
That 'alone' is not a bad thing, by the way. It's just a different thing. I used the day as an opportunity to celebrate the fact that it would have been 17 years, but it wasn't.
I wrote our names and the dates of our official getting together on a piece of paper, lit some candles,then burned the piece of paper and dumped it into a jar.
This isn't mental. It's a way of letting go.
I made a dinner of quorn sausages, chips, peas and sprouts, followed by chocolate pudding. All washed down with champagne. In the pudding I inserted a single candle, to symbolise our relationship, which I blew out. Trouble was, I bought relighting candles. Typical of the cack handed way our relationship went.
I guess it's about three weeks since he moved out, at my behest, after dumping me in March.
It was a messy exit. Instead of hiring a van and putting all his stuff in it, he ferried to and from his new home with car-fulls of stuff. He moved out over four days.
Not only that, he roped in his best friend to help after failing to see how awkward this would be. Or failing to care. I basically made myself scarce for the whole time until Sunday, when I told him the way he was doing his removal wasn't very fair on me.
He agreed to let me know what he was doing the following day and when he would be picking the rest of his stuff up.
Instead, I heard nothing. When I returned from work I found the house empty of his things, which was a shock and upsetting. No phone call, no text, no note.
On the Friday of this weekend, his friend let him down with the shifting boxes help, so he stayed one last night here. We got drunk, ate pizza and had bad sex.
When I asked him on the Sunday why he continued to sleep with me, he said it was habit.
Funnily enough, I felt used. When I questioned the way he dealt with his final day of moving out, he denied agreeing he would call me to make arrangements.
That is so lame. I'm convinced it's a lie.
Thinking back on the way the last year or so has gone, I feel sad, thinking how he would avoid coming to bed, constantly blaming my snoring or that he fell asleep downstairs.
I think he probably just didn't want to sleep with me any more. Thinking about it in retrospect, I felt repulsive, which is hypocritical of him, considering he was, and still is a big, fat lump.
He used to go on and on about me snoring, even recorded it once and played it to me, as though I did it on purpose and playing it to me would make me change.
Duh!
He did his best to make me out the be the bad person. It was like a pathological obsession for him to be the good one, who suffers, although he always denied it.
For quite a long time, I was the bad person. I was mean and horrible to him. I bullied and I picked on him. I genuinely think I wasn't very well and had poor examples of how to deal with men.
One day, I kicked him in the ribs during an argument where he pushed me onto the floor. I kicked out in defence and broke a rib.
I realised I had gone too far and got help from the doctor.
I think I had a hand in killing our relationship, but I think he did too.
Now he calls maybe once a week. At the moment I don't want to talk to him, because of the way he left things. He talks as though nothing happened, as though he didn't leave badly, didn't deprive me of the chance to say goodbye.
Am I supposed to pretend I'm ok with that? Because I'm not. My sister says he's a coward and wanted to avoid a confrontation. She's probably right.
I don't want to talk to him about anything. The book I'm reading says you should find a way of letting go. The last time he rang, he didn't even ask how I was. I don't want to be full of anger, but I don't want to tolerate his behaviour. I don't like the person he's turned into.
He's not my problem any more, yet he still left his crap behind for me to clear up.
I need to move on. I want to move on. I feel lonely, but I'm ok with that. I need a more balanced life. I need to make an effort with other people, rather than passively waiting for people to like me.
I need to get used to living alone. Lots of people do it.
I want to get stuck into things, but I don't want the renewed attention I'm getting from men. I don't blame them. I was a lot fatter than I realised and now I'm a bit more normal looking.
I need time to work out what I want. I need peace and I need a plan. I I feel very vulnerable and I think I should tell people. Just not everyone, all the time.
It's a brave new world and I want a piece of it. That's what I have to remember.