More's The Pity

I am crying again. For fuck's sake. Analysing it as I do, between sobs, it would appear this is a mixed up session. Some of the tears because I hurt, and some because I am so bloody angry and frustrated at not being able to wring Him Formerly's cold-blooded neck and put him out of his hate-fuelled misery.

I have in the past two days received two communications from Him Formerly. Him Formerly who persists in griping and complaining and bitching about his lot when he is the one who ordered in his lot. Now he has moved on to making side swipes at me, childish, spiteful and unnecessary - all because he is incapable of engaging in a sensible conversation about how to resolve the practicalities of the relationship break-up. At least without having Her in his ear, changing his mind as regularly as the rest of us change TV channels.

Him Formerly is no more. There isn't anything I formerly knew remaining and I actually no longer know who - or what - he is. Though evidently he is an attractive proposition to Her I really don't see what that attraction could be. How can you get excited about sharing your life with a man who is too weak to acknowledge his contribution to a relationship break-up, a man who perpetually blames his ex for all the troubles in his life and takes no personal responsibility, a man who has lied, cheated, deceived and then, when his partner was already just about broken, threw in a few more below the belt punches to try and finish her off.

Him clearly has a default setting of cold. Cold-hearted and cold-blooded. (I am minded to consider the possibility that Her gets a cheap thrill from dabbling with something so dangerous ... she probably snacks on blowfish and drives with her eyes shut just for the hell of it.) And that coldness has imbued Him with the ability to turn hating me into an art form of quite disturbing proportions, albeit leaving me strangely flattered at my own ability to arouse quite so much emotion.

Because for me, hating Him is not something I feel inclined to do. I am angry at the way he tries to make me feel wholly responsible for his pain. I am frustrated by his petulance and inability to address the difficulties created by the break up with some degree of feeling for the times we shared that were good. But most of all I pity Him.

Him was once sharing his life with someone who loved him well and would have loved him until the end of days, even - much to my chagrin at such stupidity - paying the price of her own inner happiness to do so. But Him could never see it. And to be unable to see love when it is given so unconditionally is nothing but pitiful, more so perhaps is the inability to accept it.

So asking myself to hate Him would be like asking myself to hate a blind man because he can't see the stars. More's the pity that Him does it so well.

Yours in hope & fear, AJ x