Final count down

So, my divorce will be final next Thursday. A few select girlz will be on hand for wine and moral support. I have a taxi service on speed dial. My boss is on notice that I might not come into work the next day. Enough said.

But it's not enough said. This is not a celebration. I'd call it a mile marker. Not good, not bad. Just a place you pass through to get to the next place.

How I feel about it? I guess I'd rather not feel about it. If I stop and think and feel and process and grieve. it physically hurts like hell. My heart, silly heart, is broken. If I don't stop, but stay in perpetual motion, then I don't feel anything. I keep my eyes dry. But it's also like some perpetually awake crack addict that needs to sleep but can't.

Instead, I blog. I blog, therefore I am. I blog, therefore I can express exactly what I feel. I loved my husband and wanted to make it work. It didn't work. That failure bites. I am not used to failure. That sounds ice cold bitchy. The truth is, I love that man and didn't want to lose him, and I didn't want what was once "us" to disappear. We had long ceased to be the "us" I idolized, but I still wanted it to work out. For the sake of "us." Because it was "us" God damn it! "We" were special. "We" were irrefutable. "We" were that once-in-a-lifetime love affair. Were we really? I don't know. But I had believed we were for so long, it became hard to not believe it.

So, I feel sad and alone. I can say he was my best friend for 10 years. Old reliable, really.

I fill my time now with new friends and experiences. Not better, just different. What do I look for? Well, I'm still on the hunt for Mr. Lusty. Mr. Poet? Clearly too ridiculous to be true. Mr. Traveling Businessman Dude? Not making the cut. Will Mr. Right be out there? Is that what I want? Truly, I wouldn't get involved with me if I were all y'all. A girl needs some time to get her head together. But I'd definitely have fun with me. A girl could use a little fun after a 10-year-unsuccessful slog that became a passion-free zone. So, I would say, still looking for Mr. Lusty.

I guess, I will raise a glass next week with the following toast: Here's to 10 years gone, and to 10 years to come. To best friends, and new experiences, and to the best years of my life that are still ahead of me.

I can toast to that.

Cheers.

Cazadora