This is not how I envisioned my return to the world of blogging to be. But when the time came, it made perfect sense. Today would have been the twentieth wedding anniversary of Jabba and I.
I can remember the day itself as if it was yesterday; either though neither Jabba nor myself are anywhere near the same people we were twenty years ago.
It was unseasonably warm that day. If I recall correctly, the temperature got as high as 65 (18 C) that day. It may have even flirted with 70. In fact, at times it almost felt too hot for late October in Michigan. There’s an old superstition that rain on your day is good luck. In hindsight, maybe it should have been an omen that there was zero chance of rain in the forecast that day.
I got ready for what-was-then the biggest day of my life in the very same basement from which I am now blogging. The Apostle, my oldest friend in this life and my best man was with me. As zero hour approached, I began pacing and the weight of everything that was about to transpire hit me. I’ve never had it verified to me, but I’m sure that the Apostle said something to the Old Man; because The Old Man gave me some of his vintage advice – a piece that will stay with me until the day I die.
“Rob,” he said, “what you today really isn’t going to change your everyday life at all. You guys have been living together for years”. Practical as always, The Old Man was absolutely correct. Jabba and I had met when we both went to our college’s registration day nearly five years prior. We had gone on our first date about a week later and were basically inseparable ever since.
The Old Man’s pep talk did a lot to calm my nerves, but I was still overcome with emotion that day. I was choked up all through my vows. I haven’t watched our wedding video in a very long time, but I also remember us having trouble with keeping the unity candles standing up.
During the downtime between the ceremony/photos and the reception, the wedding party went to Dave & Busters, and drank on the bus of course. I distinctly remember consuming a lot of alcohol. Dionysus himself must have had my back that day.
As for the reception, that was just about perfect. One of my groomsmen, who I’ll call Tobasco, told me a few years after that it was still the best wedding he’d ever been to. He’s married now, so I assume that his own wedding has eclipsed mine in his memories, but it was still a great party nonetheless.
In spite of the failure of our marriage, and the bad blood that simmered between Jabba and I for years afterward, I can look back on my wedding day and enjoy the good memories. Sure, I wish that some of the principal players were different but I wouldn’t be the person I am today otherwise. Neither of my sons would be the people they are if anything were to have played out differently. My relationships with Jabba and The Kid are the best they have been in years. In the case of Jabba, its the best its been since before our divorce.
This is the best I have felt on this date in years.
It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged. Maybe I’ll try to catch up on the last 2 years; but I think it’s best if I move forward.
Saturday night was the Kenny Chesney concert, roughly one year to the day since the last show in Detroit. 6 months ago all I wanted to do was go tailgate before the show and get sauced. Instead, i’m working tonight (Saturday night) and think bout The Auteur non-stop. This is not a complaint, mind you. Rather, it’s an observation on how much things have changed in the past year.
I’ve been sober for 68 days now and only in a few fleeting moments have I even been tempted to take a drink. I feel better. I’m still losing weight. My relationship with the Auteur has never been better. She tells me that I even look differently now that I’ve stopped drinking. We are madly in love and I’m still learning the parameters if unconditional love and pure happiness.
We have the Depeche Mode concert this Thursday and a surprise birthday party for 1B one week from today. I’m still trying to get my school schedule locked down and finish my necessary paperwork for substitute teaching.
I haven’t mentioned it before – since I haven’t written in so long – but while i was staying with The Auteur earlier this week, she took me to see her old house – the one that her STBX is renting from her. He was out of town this week, so the Auteur was pet sitting for him. It was nice to finally see the place – putting a concrete location to an abstract thought – but it felt like a toxic environment; not unlike going back to the STBX’s house in South Carolina. i felt the need to get out of there as fast as I could.
When I stopped to think about it, it was all pretty surreal. There I was, still technically a married man hanging out with my girlfriend, who herself is still technically a married woman; in a house that she owns but is renting out to her estranged husband. All I could say to The Auteur was: “Imagine if this was the other way around and you were in the STBX’s house in South Carolina. How would you feel?” In the abstract, it all sounds like someone whom i never even imagined I could possibly become,
- Lauren Mayberry: Five reasons to love Depeche Mode (scotsman.com)