10 Years, 10 Months, 24 Days

I am divorced. Officially, last week, the day after The Ex did depositions. Who the hell expected the Court to be so efficient that the paperwork would be signed off the following day? Must be a slow time of the year for divorces, what with the real estate market picking up for the spring. Actually, I am sure that has absolutely nothing to do with it. But really, I know how the court system work and this seems like it's Reno-expedient.

Counting the separation, the total length of time of my betrothal was 10 years, 10 months and 24 days. Sounds more like a prison sentence. I guess the separation can be considered my good time counted towards an early release. I guess I served about 85% of my time, in accordance with the Code of Virginia, give or take a little. The Ex called today to discuss the check he dropped off at daycare for the psychologists co-pay, and when the connection got a little fuzzy and I said I couldn't understand him, he made sure to mention he was up in my "old stomping grounds" and the cell reception was bad. Okay, dickface, it's not my old stomping grounds, it's where I grew up. The fact that I had texted him earlier about our older daughter being sick today apparently didn't register because he didn't ask about her and has not yet bothered to call back to see how she's doing. I thought that as time went on, and as the separation lengthened, I would come to despise him less and less. It's not happening. I am finding that I really despise him even more, especially for not being the father that I really thought he would be. I despise him for being selfish, I despise him for doing the things that he is doing to our children, and I despise him for just generally being a piece of shit.

I talked with my former neighbor today, my Other Mother, the neighbor who still lives right across the cul-de-sac from The Ex, and she explained why my older daughter is sick. He was washing his new sports car this weekend and let the children run around and play and splash barefoot in the ice-cold water from the outside spigot. So I suspect that my older daughter caught some kind of chill, because she generally feels bad, is flushed but is not running a fever, leading me to believe this isn't some kind of infection. That's cool, because like the potato project, Mommy will take care of this, too.

What struck me about the actual knowledge that I am divorced was how anticlimactic the entire thing was. The Ex told me over the phone it was finalized, which made me hate him even more because I wanted to get that information from anyone but him. I texted a girlfriend at work and had her look it up on the secret-squirrel-guv computers and she texted back, yes, I am a divorced woman. And that's when how anticlimactic the whole thing struck me as. From an ugly separation, the ugliest of which were accusations of kidnapping and the police getting involved, to sitting at home with a sick child and having that bastard nonchalantly mention he was in my old stomping grounds and that I should expect something from his lawyer in the mail because it was signed off on. I think I can safely say that his race to the alter has really begun in earnest now. I've thought about seeing if I can get some kind of private online pool going and email all of the Team Steph and coordinate a little something on his next date of matrimony. But really, he's not worth the effort, so I'll just fantasize about that.

Divorced. I'm still not sure what to make of it other than I'm sadly relieved it's over.