You're Someone Else's Problem

I think it's sort of remarkable, in this day and age, how I've managed to maintain an almost complete ignorance of my ex-wife's life. There are shared connections and New York's theater world can be small (albeit fractured and comprised of certain ghettos). But in this one department, I lack curiosity. I don't see the point.

Actively not wanting to know is not quite the same as not caring. If I truly didn't care, I wouldn't mind accidentally learning this or that.

Fact is, after all these years, I still feel like I've got something to prove.

And in a strange way, proving myself has less to do with being in a relationship and more to do with establishing a certain level of success with my career. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't begrudge me any success. She knew I was talented. We were both writers and I was incredibly supportive of her creative career, beyond the point where I should have been. Beyond the point where she showed me any conceit of support. My big career break happened just as my marriage was officially ending and that helped me get on. It was like the Universe patting me on the shoulder and saying, "This is what you should be doing."

Ultimately, I don't think I got a lot out of that relationship. I think I got less than I put in. I've moved on... but I can still conjure up leftover anger. Some might say that that isn't completely "moving on", but I'm no longer paralyzed by that anger and the sense of betrayal. It's just an old wound that can still get rubbed raw every so often by some random happening.

Now I've got better things to do before I die.