At the end of what was to be my first romantic relationship, I was needing to return to the scene of the crime after the fires had settled and the smoke had cleared.
I had to go back to the house of my former lover’s sister and retrieve the rest of my belongings and get them out of her house and into what would be my first ever apartment.
It was a creepy feeling being back there after so long, but it had to be done. I wasn’t sure if the war was going to flare up again and her sister taking up her side of things and leaving me alone to defend myself in the battle zone.
I was fortunate that her sister was a bit more mature over matters than my ex. Or so I thought.
Still though, it was quite a nervous time. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know what to do. Was I to just go there, get my junk, and get out? Or was I to socialize and say “hello” and maybe stay for a beer?
I spoke to her sister in soft, shortened words. I didn’t have time to mix any of them. As I collected what belonged to me that had not been hoarded and ransacked through already.
Then I simply asked her sister, “How is she doing?”. That was it. I didn’t want to know anything other than that. The last that I had known was that she was in the hospital, trying to work on resolving some issues she had. Which at the time, I thought was excellent for her. She would see the error of her ways and she would realize that the life she had was not so horrible and she would return back to me and it would be happily ever after. What a frickin’ joke of a thought that was!!
The rage and fury that would settle over me from her response would never be matched again by anything else that I had encountered or experienced.
She had told me, “She’s fine. She is out of the hospital now. And living with a guy, somewhere.” I nodded, believing in that. I really did not think that my ex was going to “take the time” to get over the relationship that just ended horribly and on seriously bad terms. I had expected that she was only going to bounce from one man to the next. And I was being proven right. But that’s not what got to me.
Her sister then added, “Her new boyfriend is really nice. Probably the nicest guys she’s dated in a long time. And he’s … you know… normal.”
Perhaps a back story would help here:
When I got together with my first girlfriend, she too, had Spina Bifida. She was confined to a wheelchair from the severity of her disability. At that point in my life, I did not believe that I would EVER be in any romantic relationship with just any woman. I had settled for this one, because I felt that because she dealt with a lot of the same things in life and I would not have to worry about the fear of being with someone who didn’t understand that would judge me for everything that I had to deal with, or have to sit down on a daily basis and explain everything. So she was the one that I chose for those reasons. I settled, very much so and I realize that now. Besides it was my first rodeo. There was a lot to learn.
NOW… she’s with someone “normal”.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over??
Okay, nevermind that she just said that this new guy was the nicest ever, totally insulting me to my face and insinuating that I was not nice or not nice enough… but “normal”????
I wondered in my mind if she had heard herself! Yes, I understand that my ex had moved on. I expected that. I also had expected tons more maturity from her sister. I believe that it would have been better received had she said “He is not physically disabled.” Hell, I probably would have even accepted “He’s not in a wheelchair.”
Normal???
I attempted to find a solid definition of the word. The best that I came up with was that normal is defined as “something that does not stray from what is consistant or the usual.”
That is not a solid definition at all.
What is “normal” for some, is not normal for others. Just because this new boyfriend of hers could walk, does not make him any more or any less “normal” than me. It only means that he has more capability to walking than I do. Normal does NOT exist!
“Normal” is one of those terms that can only be defined by each individual person. But, each definition is NOT going to be the same time and time again. “Normal” is within the eye of the beholder. And therefore, normal doesn’t exist because there is not one solid definition that is accepted by everyone.
Is it normal that a man will get up at 6:00 in the morning every day, get into the shower at 6:15, and then eat breakfast at 6:30 right before he goes for a 3 mile jog? No! Because not EVERYONE does the same thing. It is only normal for that person because that is what he does every day and it is something that is consistent with only him.
Is it normal that I wake up at 8:45 every morning, get into the shower at 10:15 and then watch Internet pornography for 15 hours straight? Of course not! Because not everyone in the world does that. (And neither do I, so don’t even! I’m just trying to prove a point.)
So the word “normal” is something that is entirely incomplete. The definition is really just spread so thin because it means so many different things. Yes, generally it means something that stays consistent, but consistency bends from one person to the next.
How her sister could’ve said such a thing was something that I could not fathom. I bit my own tongue to keep me from ripping hers out.
I do not remember saying much more to her at all, other than “thank you” when I left. I never went back there again. It could have been that she didn’t know what to say to me either at that point and that was the only way she could describe what was going on. But she could have done better. A lot better. There was a million and one other things that she could have said to explain to me that this man could walk and had no physical disability that was similar to me. “Think before you speak” should’ve been something that went through her mind before she opened her mouth.
Dambreaker 