February 18, 2011

"Divulging"

I finally told my ex that I started dating again, and something strange and unnerving happened when I did: I felt guilty, like I had admitted something weird and unnatural. And though his response was, “that’s great, I’m glad,” I pressed him.

“Are you okay with that?” I asked in earnest, wanting to protect him from pain, wishing a bit that I could take back the words, that he could go back to not knowing, that I could go back to not having told.

“Of course,” he responded. “I’m fine with it. I’m happy for you.”

This was something I should have expected. From our history, I knew my ex hadn’t a jealous bone in his body, and if he cringed inside hearing that I had started dating, his poker face would not waver, now we are divorced. Because he is a private person. Obviously, free and needing to write about my entire existence, I’m not.

But it still made me wonder how I could have handled it better. He went on to ask about who he was—“you don’t know him,” I assured my ex. Incredulous, he expected me to pick up someone in our circle of friends—men I had never been attracted to in the least. Ever. “He’s not from here,” I explained, “I’m sure you don’t know him.” He prodded me about whether the newbie lives here, what he does, and how long I’ve been seeing him. And rather than completely change the subject, I divulged quite a lot—something I wish I hadn’t done. Because whether or not he tells me, I know my dating bothers him. I know it hurts him, because it proves he was right: I didn’t just leave him because I wanted to be alone. I left because I wanted someone else.

And now he has a name to google and a mental picture of this person—he has someone to imagine, something to concoct in his subconscious. Because perhaps unlike women, men do not mentally obsess about every detail while they’re occupied with other daily functions. But I’m sure those details will take on a life of their own when he’s not watching. In this way, the end result between men and women is the same—it’s just not expressed in the same way. Men can hurt, love, and be afraid, just like women. And we all do it despite our saner selves.

There’s obviously no way to un-say all I did, no way for him to un-hear it. It’s out there, floating around in the ether of his existence. Of course people break up and date other people. There were women before me and men before him. It’s unsurprising to hear he’s been interested in other women and yet, I can take that information and feel pretty good about it. Because although I don’t want him anymore, I want him to be happy—to find love.

It’s because I left him that I feel this way. Having spent some time on the other side of the equation, I know what it’s like to be jealous of the entity that took my place. It just happens that in this instance, the trace of that discomfort does not exist for me. And I feel guilty that it doesn’t, even though I’m glad I don’t.

I can move on without a backward glance because I tried my best, even though I was not perfect. And I know the answer is to feel that guilt and release it because it does not serve me. And I know holding on to things that don’t serve me is destructive. So I try squeezing my heart tight around the guilt, then unclasping it, and even though the taint is still sort of there, I feel better. For now.