Divorce

Last month, I borrowed my ex-husband’s car to visit my son, daughter-in-law, and their little guy (read about becoming a grandmother here). As soon as I arrived at the parking garage, the attendant said, “I’m sorry, but the car’s dead.” My ex immediately answered the phone when I called, arranged for a jump, and said, “call me along the way.” He called me while I was driving, “everything okay? Call me when you get there.” Pleased that he was concerned, I thought he was being dramatic. “I fine. I’m will.” But I never got there. The car wouldn’t restart at the rest stop forty-five minutes from my destination. My ex gave me the info I needed to get the car on the road again and where to drop it off. “Call me if you have any problems.” My bestie, Sonia, sat on the phone with me until the car service showed up. Finally, on my way back into the city, I held my breath, clenched my butt cheeks, and drove the ninety-minute ride feeling sorry for myself. I missed feeling taken care of by my husband like he did so many years ago. I knew I didn’t want to be married to him, but then damnit, why am I crying?...

When I left the coffee shop with Jonathan, I had reached that moment on the date when I had to make a decision: how would I graciously end this? We had matched on Bumble. We’d both attended Cornell and knew some of the same people. Before we met, we had a hilarious phone conversation. I had looked forward to the date, but when we met, he wasn’t exactly what I expected. He was overwhelmingly big in personality…and underwhelming in stature....