Idiot

Well it’s that time of year again.  Tomorrow night is the anniversary of the highly dramatic end to my relationship with The Ex.  I was a huge idiot.  And that’s putting it mildly.  Anyway, today is the anniversary of my bank’s fraud department ringing up to query whether or not I’d just as good as maxed out my overdraft.  As far as I was aware I hadn’t.  Naturally it turned out that The Ex had.  It had to be him really, and I knew this when I was informed that the transactions had been completed at cash points using my bank card.  My bank card was still in my purse.  What made this even worse was that The Ex tried to deny it at first.  Grrr.  Weirdly enough, that’s not the reason I actually left him.

The reason I left him is because I was scared of him.  He was working a night shift, and had been very aggressive during a row on the phone.  It says something when a phone call makes you so scared that someone’s going to beat the crap out of you when he gets home from work.  My crime?  Sending him a stupid text message voicing my annoyance at him not changing The Child’s nappy when he’d said he would.  Actually I realised he had, so it should have been easily resolved.  It shouldn’t even have become a row.  But there we go.  I was the big bad guy once again, even though he’d just cleaned out my bank account. 

So, I legged it in the middle of the night, before I got his voicemail message demanding that I was gone before he got home from work.  Given the massages he left me afterwards, I’m guessing he wasn’t actually expecting me to leave.  Oh well.  I think we all benefitted from it in the end.  But is it wrong that I still see this as an excuse for a celebratory drink four years later?  Freedom.  Surely that’s worth a glass of wine now.

To freedom.  It’s a shame I’m still an idiot though.