Dirty Laundry

He moved out when I came home late for work one day. I came home and had a feeling in my gut that something was up. I did the usual after work stuff, check mail, email and went to start the laundry. That’s how I knew. There were no clothes in the laundry basket. I opened the drawers, no clothes in the drawers. “So this is how he’s chosen to do this” was my first thought. I called him to at least get an explanation. No answer. Sent a text. No answer. I thought that after everything I had been through for the past few months, at the very least, I deserved an answer. I put this in a text. Finally. A response. He came back, told me it was over and he didn’t want to try. That’s it. For over 3 years I had put my heart and soul into this relationship and he’s sitting here telling me he doesn’t want to try. Granted, the nine months we were married were sheer hell. But I couldn’t have given any more emotionally or been more patient.

How we got here is the definition of irony. You see, I never even wanted to get married. I’ve spent my life to this point running away and avoiding commitment. But it was something that was important to him and I respected that. When I walked down that aisle on May 3rd, it took me years of therapy, self-discovery and an atavan. But when I got to the altar, I honestly believed I was doing the right thing and didn’t have any doubts or regrets. Little did I know how things were going to explode starting the next day.

The wedding ended a little after 2am. We were getting ready to leave, but I wanted to make sure everything was covered off. He didn’t have patience to wait. We had both had a fair amount to drink but I was still coherent. But how I ended up on the sidewalk with my laptop broken, in tears with my new husband cursing at me is still a blur. I won’t ever forget the rage and hate in his eyes as he stood cursing at me on the street. That’s when I knew. Something was seriously wrong.