I’m a long way from my x’s abandonment and the drawn-out divorce. I’m close to not giving a damn about Voldemort and whatever-the-hell he does.
Kid #1 saw Voldemort a couple of months ago and reported that his dad had bought a house with his girlfriend. Of course, Voldemort offered #1 a place to “crash,” emphasizing that his girlfriend shared the space. This was the first time Voldemort actually owned the fact that he’s hooked up, but whatever.
Then the support check arrived this week with a new return address. A rather familiar address. He bought a teeny, tiny, overpriced house across the street from the condo we lived in when #1 and #2 were born. Seriously. Right across the street. When he first left, he moved to a place within a mile of our previous home, where we lived when #3 was born. Now he lives literally across the street from another previous home.
San Diego’s not a small town. There are dozens of neighborhoods where he could live, but he’s doing a marital home greatest hits tour.
That’s weird, right?
He got exactly what he said he wanted — OUT. So why live in places we lived together? We never lived at the beach, or in the mountains, or downtown, or Mid-City, or really, I could go on and on. How ‘bout ya try those?
I’m thinking of offering the girlfriend my old clothes and shoes. Y’know, since she’s got my old husband and neighborhoods.