The long and short of it.

There are many reasons why my ex-husband is an “X” and after all these years of being divorced I rarely revisit those memories. I am, however, one of the many women in this world who still have to maintain some type of relationship with their X because we still share one thing in common, our daughter.

It’s not often I run into him or even speak to him because our daughter is a young adult now. On those rare occasions we do happen to see each other I’m reminded how much happier I am now and it also confirms for me that even after many years, Ex-husbands do not change. They remain assholes.

Case in point…with a little background.

For me, there are certain private rituals, habits or beliefs I prefer to keep to myself. For example, I can never imagine leaving the bathroom door open while I’m sitting on the toilet “thinking” (Let’s just call it that shall we?). “X” on the other hand had no issue “thinking” in front of me. The same holds true for passing gas. I would not, could not do THAT in the presence of my mate. However…

Over twenty years ago, one time, and only once did I have an “accident” whereby one very small, nearly silent, gas bubble made its debut in front of him. I remember so vividly standing there mortified and embarrassed as I listened to him laugh and carry on about it for what seemed liked days. I was certain the color of my face was at least close to the red of the shorts I was wearing. I looked at him and said, “You’re an asshole”.

Fast forward 20 years…a week ago.

My daughter decided to move back into my home from college. She had arranged with her Father for him to pick up some of her belongings and bring them here. I thought it would also be a great time for me to pick up from him a check for his portion of her car insurance. So I called him one hour in advance of his arrival and reminded him. He agreed he would.

While I was in the backyard pulling weeds from the flowerbed, I could hear his truck door slam so I proceeded to make my way to the driveway. After approaching and greeting him I ask, “did you bring the check”? He looked at me and said, “Damn, I forgot my checkbook”. In frustration as I walked away I said, “How could you forget? I just called you one hour before to remind you, don’t you remember anything”?

His response; “Yes, yes I do. Those red shorts you are wearing now, are those the same fart shorts”?

He can’t remember to bring the check, but he remembers my fart shorts.

What an asshole. Just lovely.