So, here I was, having survived media cameras and a year of terror awaiting a judgement day that I hope none of you ever have to stand up and face, suddenly walking away from all the hell, having served my punishment and paid my debt to society (which by the way, never ever feels paid), and there was my knight in shining armor. Except....he didn't look so shiny. He had actually become freakishly distant as my 5-month summer camp expedition had proceeded, and while my own nervous fears kept me clinging to a man that I was pretty sure I hadn't wanted for the last 5 years, this same clinging seemed to be pushing him as far away as the idea of acid-washed jeans being trendy had been pushed in the last decade. Yet, he was my lifeline. He was my financial security, my emotional security, my mental stability through the horrors of my entire one year Fallout Tour. I had ONE thing left: him.
Fast forward to the weeks to follow, phone calls from a man I was married to yet living at his friend's house while I slept at my parent's. Alone. A mass of confusing vague statements, sobbing calls and a general feeling that everything he kept assuring me of, kept promising me would stay, repeatedly soothed me with was slowly and surely slipping away. And I clung. I clung out of fear to be 100% honest, and I know in this day and age you should not have those pathetic anti-femminist ideas about men saving you, taking care of you, and providing for you. But I did. I bet we all do deep down. Especially when your record is no longer so easily presented to an interviewing committee. He was my only hope, in my mind, in those dark days of wonder. The thought of surviving something ELSE was literally too much. The fetal position, late at night, became the most common form of my existence, clutching my cell phone hoping and praying this weird, angry distant guy would be replaced with my husband that loved me unconditionally.
Now, don't get me wrong, I know I didn't deserve for this man to stand by me after all I had done. But....he promised. I also kept pushing down that nagging voice that kept saying, "But, Ms. Busy and Important, you have wanted out since your wedding day. You have sabotaged this union from day one. Look at allllllllllll you have done in this marriage." I ignored that stupid voice because: (a) who does she think she is, the boss of me?? (b) I hate the truth, it never makes friends (c) If she was right...well what the hell was I going to do then?
Luckily for me, I didn't have to choose and show myself what a pathetic coward I really am by staying for 15 more miserable years. He left. He left in the night without a word, letting a court server terrify my mother with divorce papers one day. He left without explanations, apologies, angry fights...nothing. He just left. Needless to say, the fetal position became a popular song on the Comeback Tour for quite some time. Well...it's still a crowd favorite from time to time, and I have always liked to indulge nostalgia.
