6 fights my ex-boyfriend and i had, and 1 we didn’t.


(This one time we fought over the amount of his shirts i use as pajamas. Which is unfair because sharing is caring, and his clothes are warm and big and it was winter in France, and it was super cold. This one i decided i won. You are never getting your gray cashmere sweater back, by the way. Stop asking.

During the day is easy to pretend we are somewhere else, all the noise, the people, the movement, if i close my eyes it feels like a supermarket, or an airport, or a mall, days are easy.

(This one time we fought over the right texture of Al dente pasta. And we started throwing spaguetti to the ceiling to prove our point. Mine fell, his stayed stuck up there for about a week, until i got tired of it staring at me and took it down with a broom).

Nights are entirely different things, it gets empty and cold, and the smell of pain is almost as strong as the smell of cheap disinfectant floating around every single room, person, thing and even pillow. At nights there is no denying it,  we are in a Children’s hospital, we came in with our baby and suitcases, we are going to be here a while.

(This one time we fought over the right way to cut onions. I said that as long as they made you cry you were doing it right. He said no, he said there was a right way, he saw them do it HIS way on Iron Chef).

Doctors and nurses go in and out at all hours, not even knocking the door. They don’t exist to me, i don’t even understand the language, i only look at your face, i read all i need to know in there. if things will be all right or don’t, i don’t need any foreign doctors, i’ll see it on your face.

( Then we fought over the right way to wash the dishes, i wash them one at a time, he soaps them all first. We got a dishwasher).

Supposedly only one of the parents can sleep with the child, but none of us could leave so we both stay, we sleep on the floor, all tangled up. When Paula wakes up crying in the middle of the night we both try to get up at the same time, i feel your limbs over me, around me, next to me, they might as well be mine.

(This one time we fought over this inexistent lover i had. He gave me so much trouble! Well i hope at least he was good. And hot. And a tall, tanned skinned, Greek man who had a nice exotic name, like Costas, ohhh and a boat! can we make him have a boat?)

After a couple of days we knew all the other kids, Sophie with the heart condition, Jerome with appendicitis, Carla who had been there for months. And their parents, we nod to each other, we try to smile, we order pizza and we share, we care, but what else can we do? These are such private battles, some of them are goodbyes, what can we really say?

(This one time he asked me to marry him, and we both agreed we didn’t believe in weddings and didn’t wanted one, but somehow we still managed to fight over who we would, hypothetically, invite).

The last day we were there, while Paula was taking a nap we ate Mc Donald’s sitting down on the floor outside her room. There were no chairs, because the huge family of gypsies staying with the kid next door had stolen ours. We ate with our hands, on the floor, and we knew everything was over and in a few hours we would be home, and we shared a Sprite and i put my head on your shoulder. And fuck all those fancy vacations, fuck that pre-fabricated moment when you asked me to marry you, that was one of the most beautiful moments i had with you.

But of course we left the hospital, and our kid got well, and we kept fighting and everything went downhill. And the fights got more and more ridiculous, and we stopped apologizing and started letting the anger go on for days…

Then we started fighting about love. Maybe that is when love finally thought “Screw you weirdos!” and decided to leave.

And i spent months calling love an idiot. But i don’t know, maybe it was us honey, maybe we were.

And, look, about all those stupid fights? I’m sorry, and also i forgive you, and also i forget.

And whatever happens, whomever we end up with, i want you to always be sure of these two things: You are NEVER getting that cashmere sweater back, and, at that at that particular moment, sitting on the floor of the hospital, tired, unshaved and with yesterday’s clothes, you were the best, strongest man i have ever met, and you were my life…



26 thoughts on “6 fights my ex-boyfriend and i had, and 1 we didn’t.

  1. And aw 😦 I hope that you find a guy who is everything you’ve wanted and more. I’m sure you have lots of time to find somebody who makes you truly happy… I really like the way this blog was written.

  2. kingmidget

    Amazing. It’s true that even with the bad memories, there are those little moments that were good and perfect. Keep those in mind.

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