Love’s Grand Exits

In February, many women’s fancies turn to thoughts of love, fresh starts for the newish year or in my case, Groundhog’s Day; I like Groun…

In February, many women’s fancies turn to thoughts of love, fresh starts for the newish year or in my case, Groundhog’s Day; I like Ground Hog’s Day.

But, when my editor at CAWLM told me the theme of this month’s column was “love,” I said to myself, “Darn it, Ground Hog’s Day is out.”

So, love it is.

I’m divorced, and despite my willingness to meet someone new, I’m alone at present — romantically that is. I do have two teens, two cats and a dog, so my life is by no means dull.

The prospect of being romantically solo this Valentine’s Day has me thinking about love’s grand exits — or rather, those failed. These are the dramatic departures you attempt when you’re angry with your partner, only to have them go horribly wrong.

The last time this happened to me, I was in a restaurant with a man I’d been dating for about a year. He’d picked this opportunity to break up with me because of a very dark “truth” about himself — a truth he’d hidden from me all that time. The reason for the secrecy, as he put it: “you wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

As far as I was concerned, he had stolen a year’s worth of my time and companionship while keeping me in the dark about something I deserved to know, and I was angrier about that and his judgmental attitude, than I was about his so called “truth.”

Our relationship ended on the spot. At my car, I unlocked the door, flung it open with a flourish, and swept in, planning to burn rubber on my way past him. Instead, I was confused by the way I seemed to plummet, falling much farther than usual before my rear hit the seat.

Why was my car seat so low? Where were my crumpled fast food bags, my bread crumbs and my dashboard dust? Why were fuzzy dice hanging from the rear-view mirror? Whose sunglasses were lying in the passenger seat? Why had my key worked?

I sat there for several seconds, stunned and trapped. I couldn’t get out because the old boyfriend was still in the parking lot. He would have seen me climbing sheepishly from one car and anticlimactically into another. Then again, I couldn’t just sit there because the owner of the car I was in could walk up with a six-pack any second … yes, the man I’d been seeing took me to only the best places.

Luckily, the old boyfriend got promptly into his car and drove off. I seized the moment to scurry from the wrong car to the right one. Once inside, the ridiculousness of the situation settled in and I started to laugh.

I laughed so hard that if I’d had a pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rear-view mirror like my other car, the one that wasn’t actually mine, they would have swung from the rocking of the car.


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