I moved back in with my parents. It's temporary, I had a great apartment but my commute was so long and I thought I'd save some money while my ex and I figure out what the fuck we're doing as he's on a 4 year project in Palo Alto and I don't know if I will need to move to SF.
Tonight, I was cowering behind my car sneaking a cigarette with my cup of wine saying goodnight to my BF who is in Chicago. I was just about to walk back into the house when—hello!—friendly looking neighbor pops up to chat. Nice enough guy, really, just clearly drunk (like I judge, I am too) and asking me the same question over and over. "What do you do?" "I'm an art director." "Oh man, a good friend of mine that just died, he was a brilliant art director, worked for MOMA, I own a blood bank....what do you do?"
He was prodding a bit, something I don't mind. I am open, I don't mind people asking me questions or oversharing, and I will share quite a bit but also am firm when I don't want to talk about things. In any case, I did tell him that I had split up with my ex but that we had a really good relationship and were committed to maintaining it for the sake of the spritely halfpence. He'd natter on about random shit and then hit me with a serious and personal question, while I was eventually just plotting a way to get back inside.
Near the end of our conversation, he says "so, do you think there is a chance you'll go back?"
"Go back...where, to my ex?"
"Um, no, I don't think so."
"Oh, it is just so tragic, you know, and it just does so much damage to kids."
At this point my inner badass that rarely appears in real life was like:
Instead I just said, "well, I know enough people that came from stable families that are totally fucked up to know that doesn't make much of a difference."
Seriously, though, I am not that sensitive about much, but I am already being eaten alive by guilt that I've fucked up my child forever that when something like that happens, however unintentional, I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. And I literally did, almost cry. I think it's just (Woman Stereotype (TM)) my period hormones, though.