The Awkward Moment When Your Ex-Husband Says He Loves You

What do the etiquette books say?

I hate confrontation.

There was a time when I welcomed it. In my teen years, I aspired to be a lawyer (well…lawyer-slash-geneticist because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up). If there was a debate, I was ready.

Marriage changed that. While I held my own for most of the marriage, eventually I hit a breaking point. My level of caring over an issue turned to apathy. The strength in my convictions turned to fear.

Do you know what falls under confrontation? Awkwardness.

When there is an awkward moment brought upon by one person, it’s a call to action by another person. It’s a mismatch of emotions combined with tension. Someone needs to address the issue and doing so can potentially make things worse.

Today, my ex-husband Joseph made things awkward. Inside, my anti-confrontational side curled into a ball with its hands covering its eyes.

I’m still reeling from my breakup with Thomas. It was my choice, but it still stings. Our relationship started at a 99% excellence score and steadily dropped to 70% by February. Things were just good enough to make me stay but bad enough that my heart was no longer in it. His unwillingness to unfuck his shitshow life was a major contributor.

For nine months, my phone buzzed regularly with Thomas’ messages. The radio silence from my phone in comparison is enough to make me check if my phone is turned on.

This morning my phone buzzed. It wasn’t Thomas, who cracked and texted me the day before. It was from Joseph. Unlike our usual short text bursts about the kids, this launched out of the blue into a full I-love-you-I-miss-you rant.

As I stare at my phone in horror, Joseph plays the “I know I shouldn’t be texting you this” card. He tells me he loves me. He misses me.

I put my phone down. I pick it up. Nope. Put it back down.

Joseph continues. He explains that he can’t change the past but can change where we are now and where it will end. If friendship is all we can have then he’ll take it because it’s better than losing me forever. He wanted to say it but he also wants to prove it.

The text ends with an “I don’t want to make it weird between us. You don’t need to respond. Have a good weekend.”

Side note: why do men do this? They start messages with “I shouldn’t text you” and end with “You don’t need to respond.” Since the dawn of mobile texting, it’s the same passive-aggressive bullshit they all send after a breakup.

I can’t not reply to these texts. My brain hears “awkward confrontation” on repeat.

Because I have all the social graces of a cow in heat, I tackle the awkwardness head-on. “It’s now weird!” I reply. But I put a smiley face emoji so that’s funny…right?

Not sensing my jesting (did he not see the emoji? Come on!), Joshua apologizes and reiterates his interest in being friends.

Sigh. I tell him point blank that I was kidding. I hoped that would be the end of it.

It was not.

Joseph tells me how he tried dating but no one measures up. He goes on about how his worst mistake was pushing me away. And then yet another passive-aggressive I-shouldn’t-have-texted line. I stare at my phone, mouth agape.

I stumble how this is very raw and emotional for both of us. Please, please, please let the end of this awkward text exchange.

Joseph throws one last bomb. “I’m a romantic at heart and I want that fairytale ending. I see you. You’re real.”

What. The. Fuck. Does. That. Mean?

I throw my phone on the bed and stare at it angrily. These are words I needed to hear a decade ago. But even then, they’re just words. He made promises and they’d last a month or a few. Then things went back. They always went back.

Security (physical, financial, and emotional) has always been high on my list of needs. My marriage lacked all three at once. In the end, I felt scared without physical and emotional security. That left my home no longer being a sanctuary with no respite courtesy of the pandemic quarantine. When your own home feels like a threat and you can’t go elsewhere, the brain and body feel constantly under attack.

Every time I think the dust from this divorce has settled, even a small kick throws my emotions into a sandstorm.