Second Chances

Almost a year after we separated, an unforeseen event resulted in my ex needing a temporary place to stay. He was a bit down. As his (legal) wife, mother of his child, and friend, I didn’t like seeing him like that. Sure, he annoyed me most days and seemingly did so without a second thought! But we both still had a lot of love for one another. So I offered him a place to stay. 

I told him he could sleep on the couch until he found something better. We didn’t set a timeframe nor establish any boundaries. And I didn’t get my hopes up. Remember, by this time, I’d accepted that my marriage was over. Thus, I did not offer him a place to stay with the hope that he’d come back, nor did I expect him to take it as an opportunity to do so. But apparently, everyone else did. 

My friends were hopeful that he’d take the time and space to woo me. They thought he’d want to, and succeed at, showing me he had royally messed up by leaving and was worth giving a second chance. My family was quieter with their hope, but I believe it was still there. Every day I’d get text messages from family and friends asking how it was going. The messages were never pushy. But I knew exactly what they were hoping to hear: “Oh, he came home with flowers” or, “he asked to take me to dinner” or “he cleaned the whole apartment”. But I never had things like that to report. 

My ex stayed with me for about 5 weeks and I always joke that he behaved worse in those 5 weeks than he did when we were together! While I wasn’t viewing his stay with us as a second chance, I certainly made several assumptions about his stay there. For example, as the custodial parent, our daughter spent most of her time with me. As a working mom, this was a huge and often challenging adjustment. Time was always limited and she always needed something, and there was no one to help with those needs. So when my ex came to stay with us, I assumed he’d help out with our daughter. 

It’d be dinner time and he’d only bring food for himself. He’d do laundry but only wash his clothes. She’d need help with homework and he’d just watch TV. Just like when we were together, having him see that I needed help and choosing not to help drove me absolutely bonkers. Except, not being together anymore, I wasn’t sure if I could say anything. So I didn’t. I just let it fester within me. Until one day, I exploded. I impolitely invited him to live elsewhere. (Don’t you like how I said that?!)

Friends and family were super disappointed that his stay with me did not result in us rekindling our relationship. I think, even if I didn’t realize it at that time, all their hope had trickled over to me. I found myself expecting more of him than I may have if I didn’t have all these hopeful voices in my head. So when he didn’t meet those expectations, I was even more disappointed than usual. Perhaps, had this been a real second chance, it would have gone better. But really, he and I were likely on the same page - that we would not be getting back together, and the nature of his staying with me was no more than that of roommates or awkward friends. 

This was probably the closest experience we ever had to a second chance. And it was a huge disaster. So neither of us ever looked for nor created another. We just accepted what had been, and what was to come.