Delamination Chronicles

I had dinner with Chuck and his son last night, and we had a fine time. Or, anyway, as fine a time as could be had by two people who are divorcing, and the son of one of them but not the other. I have no clue how to do this. On one hand, there's the fact that Chuck lied to me, every single day that he knew me. Oh, and left me. And used my money to do so. On a second hand, there's his son, who is still too young to hide very much, and who is as glad to see me as I am to see him. On the third hand, there's the things we remember, the old casual intimacies, and they do not disappear. And I can see Chuck struggle with them.

He called me a little while ago, and we had a rather intense 40-minute conversation. I actually got to say several of the things that I've been thinking--that he lied to me, from the day he met me, and that that was a rather large thing to swallow; that I know he didn't mean to hurt me, ever; that I asked him to show himself to be trustworthy, and he took my money, moved out, and told me he was falling in love with someone else. He likes to think, and he said, that the last thing was only because I had said i couldn't be married to him. I reiterated, for the umpteenth time, that I said I didn't know, that "I don't know" isn't "No," and that I didn't immediately say we could work things out because my experience of him is that that meant he would have just gone on the same way, and that was not acceptable to me. He wondered why he gets close to someone and then "the rug gets pulled out from under him." I asked him if he considered the ways he sabotaged his relationships (like lying constantly to someone who values honesty . . . though I didn't say that part).

He also likes to compare his condition to a brain tumor--if he'd had a tumor that caused him to behave the way he did, and then he had it taken out, wouldn't I have stuck with him? And I pointed out that the behavior did not, in fact, change, once he started taking medication; he continued to lie to me. I pointed out that he didn't want to go to marriage counseling. I pointed out that I did, in fact, attempt to do that; he noted that I still wouldn't promise it would be okay. I said hey, if you really loved me that much, I'd think you'd have grabbed at any chance whatsoever. And you didn't.

I reiterated, several times throughout the conversation that he lied to me, every single day that he knew me. Why, I asked. Because--and here's the kicker--he thought that, if I knew who he "really" was, I wouldn't love him. And, you know, I can't fix that. He certainly had ample reason to know otherwise, but, alas, couldn't believe what he saw.

Interestingly enough, all of this conversation was held in reasonable tones. There were some tears (mostly on his part), but much less drama then you might imagine. I have every suspicion that it'll come back at me in some way. But I know that he doesn't mean to hurt me, and he never has, and I told him that, too. He has hurt me, tremendously, but it was never his intent.

And he told me, again, that he loves me and he always will. Which I also cannot fix.

Yesterday I made some caramel apple tarts. For the caramel, I substituted orange juice for the water and cream, and I increased the butter and added cardamom (though not quite enough, I think, and some cinnamon would have been good, too). I arranged the apple bits so it more or less looked like this (thank you Tartlette, whomever you are), though the picture is of quince rather than apple. Things didn't get into the store until mid-afternoon, but that was pretty much unavoidable. I also made some fresh apple danish (quite good) and some pear almond tarts. And yesterday's plain croissants were unfuckingbelievable; too bad I couldn't teleport some of them to kstyle . . .