The good ones

When DD first introduced me to his friends, they would invariably congratulated me on “getting one of the good ones”.

I’d feel slightly miffed and want to reply “well, he got one of the good ones too!”

But I was a stranger to them at that stage, so how were they to know?

On the other hand, they knew DD very well. And they were right, he’s one of the good ones.

He has the kindest heart and loving him has been incredibly healing for me. I am a very different woman to the one I was 10 years ago.

I feel very fortunate that fate brought us together via RSVP and a dodgy suburban pub.

Our relationship has been a little unconventional since that meeting – we haven’t followed the linear path of moving in together, engagement and marriage … well, there is the slight impediment of me STILL being married to my ex, but a divorce wouldn’t put a ring on it.

There are large parts of our lives that just don’t slot together at this stage.

When I mentioned to my ex that I was thinking about downsizing because I was drowning in debt, he wanted to know why DD didn’t move in with me to save us running two households.

I stared at him like he was slightly mad: why would DD want to move into my scruffy house on a busy road – with two dogs and three rats – when he lives in a nice, pet-free townhouse a few blocks from the beach?

My ex has shared a beer with DD on the deck of the aforementioned townhouse, gazing at the palm trees, he knows how idyllic it is up there.

DD loves living up that way. (And I will too one day.) He’s surrounded by good friends and great beaches and is finally enjoying a more balanced life. Until recently, DD have time to do much other than work really hard and parent his kids. The working hard kicked off with running a business in his twenties to pay his way through university and has powered on ever since.

He often starts teleconferences before 7am and will sometimes still be doing them at 11pm at night. A week or two ago he was on a single teleconference that went for 10 hours.

Ten. Freaking. Hours.

Madness.

Being near the beach and in a job that expects such extended” hours means he can sneak off between calls for a quick swim or workout or lunch.

Aside from that, we try and squeeze little pockets of fun into the narrow windows that remain. A ferry ride to the Central Coast, a glass of wine on his deck, a comedy show …

Even proper holidays are hard to organise because he’s required to be constantly on call. And the hundreds of emails a day don’t stop when his “out of office” message comes on.

We managed to sneak away together for 10 days back in 2016 when he attended a conference in Florida.

And we squeezed in another week three years ago, on the back of my ex taking the kids to Italy.

But since then it’s just been lovely long weekends here and there.

We’re desperate for a little more than that and have our eyes peeled for a bargain that my budget can afford.

I can’t wait to spend some time with him where fewer demands of our normal lives can intrude.

Stay tuned …

Song of the day: Willie Nelson “On the road again”

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