It's been eight months since I left Husband. He's sweet and charming still, mostly. Sometimes there are blinding moments of clarity when I'm near him, the flashes of "Oh THANK GOODNESS I left him because he's an asshole". I call these moments my Weekly Dose of Reality. He lives in his place across town, I live in mine. We co-parent effectively. We try to be "friends". We still have sex.
I know, I know. What the fuck am I doing, you ask? Eh...I've never been a conventional girl. I also think that the rules don't apply to me. We absolutely cannot live together, we realize that. But there's nobody else we'd rather be with than each other.
A case of the grass is still green over here and there aren't any other pastures? Perhaps. But as much as I'd like to call it 'just fucking', he and I both know that it's not. We kiss and make love/have mindblowing sex and cuddle, and then I leave for my own house.
It's working for us. It's working better now then it has for the last five years. I get my own space, don't have to pay his bills or listen to his bullshit, and get all the orgasms I want. Imagine that.