At Sea – In More Ways Than One

The Alaska Blogs, #1

My odyssey begins.

(With apologies to Homer and all modern poets with their more meaningful tales of adventure and loss and coming home.)

Hmm, I guess that sums up this experience, too. There will be adventure of sorts, as we explore Alaska. And the loss – that comes later, after coming home, to a home that will soon be sold. We hope. Well, the future ex (FEX) seems more concerned about it than I, though I guess I should be too, since financially it will be tough to simultaneously pay the mortgage and the rent on whatever apartment I can find (yes, I made the decision to go out on my own. Reluctantly, but necessarily).

But that’s all in the future. For now, we have – the Trip! The one planned some nine months ago. The one I have looked forward to for so long. The one that started yesterday with me trying to stifle anger as we began our drive to JFK.

Anger? Toi? Pourquoi, mon ami?

Well, let’s not go into details. Suffice to say the weirdness of beginning this trip under the cloud of the impending marital dissolution (IMD for future reference) has stirred some strong emotions. And the realization that certain topics – where we will be living in the future, what we will be doing and whom we will be doing it with – are subjects probably better left unexplored. At least for me. No, really, let’s not talk about my possibly dating divorced women with kids who are in college, OK? And I won’t speculate on any future partners for you, thank you very much.

And then there’s the ongoing sense that the FEX is just a wee bit more…relaxed? content? exuberant? about the IMD than I am, which at times can be hard to take. But that’s relationships. That’s life. People on different pages. Different takes on the same situations. Roshomon in spades. It just seems particularly odd to have that observational/experiential divergence with someone you have known for so long. Shared so much with. Thought you knew so well.

God, I could say so much about our different perspectives about this. I’d like to scream a bit of it at her, at times. But to what purpose the anger and resentment? Breathe, man, breathe. In and out. Let it go…

Pike Place - a much hipper Quincy Market

A Hendrix axe at the Experience Music Project; and a diary on display had an entry from when he was in Hartford! Cool!

It would be easier if on one level we weren’t having a good time. Though maybe that’s just the most superficial of levels. Do Pike Place Market, peruse cool Mexican art in a little shop, eat good vegan Vietnamese food for lunch, explore the Paul Allen-funded  Experience Music Project and Sci Fi Museum – all good stuff. And maybe outsiders see us and think we are such a nice couple, comfortable with each other if not exactly pawing publicly, obviously linked by longevity if nothing else, even sans wedding bands. And yet, I keep stepping back and thinking – too fucking weird (TFW); the house is on the market, she can’t wait for it to sell, we will be over soon.

Which raises the question: What the hell is love?

As little as two weeks ago, I was told she loved me. I love her. And yet the IMD moves forward, with a Newtonian momentum.


Tonight, dinner at a classy vegan restaurant. Tomorrow, we embark on the cruise. We will, if today was any indication, have a “good” time. Then, two weeks from now – the IMD rolls on.



~ by mburgan on May 30, 2010.

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