Despite my best efforts, it’s got­ten ugly.

I moved out as fast as I pos­si­bly could, into a tem­po­rary apart­ment with the min­i­mal fur­ni­ture and items I need to work and sus­tain myself and my two cats (I don’t even have a bed; I sleep on the floor). Infact, I moved out more than 2 weeks ahead of the date I expected to leave. Once in my own place I thought, “out of sight, out of mind,” and we could both move on with our lives. I was wrong, of course.

I’ve been tak­ing her com­plaints and crit­i­cism with­out defend­ing myself because I wanted to keep it from get­ting ugly, and because I don’t need to rehash every­thing for clo­sure. I’m a turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy, par­tic­u­larly when there’s really noth­ing to be gained by argu­ing back. And, my life is going all right since mov­ing out. Not great, not hor­ri­ble, but doing all right. I’ve met some ladies, made some friends, gone to work, vis­ited with my kids, and enjoyed me time. Yet no mat­ter how much I try to avoid con­flict with Strawberry Blonde, she seems hell­bent on bring­ing it to my door–literally, to my apart­ment door.

Dammit.

I worry that, no mat­ter how hard I–and hope­fully she as well–try to keep the kids out of the mid­dle of it, they’ll wind up hurt.

I just want to move on with my life and let her lay in the bed she made while I lay in mine. Why does it have to be ugly?

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