We Are All Better Than This, Yes?

I may have alluded in the past to the fact that some in my spouse's family disowned me after we separated.

Because I am a harpy, or something.

Not all, certainly. And I deeply love and appreciate those who have been supportive and willing to understand the complexities of a dying marriage without condemning the parties involved. Thank you to them.

But there are others. Others who gamely chucked decades of love and friendship when confronted with an emotional scenario more nuanced than your average rom-com.

Remember when Matthew McConaughey wasn't Oscar bait and
only knew how to lean against beautiful women?

Among those was a brother-in-law who dramatically declared me persona non grata for the sin of letting my spouse know that the supposedly confidential conversations he was having with his sister were actually being parroted back to me...by said brother-in-law. Because despite the fact that we were estranged and I had asked for a divorce, I didn't want him to be hurt by idle gossip and violations of his trust.

I am such a bitch that way.

But, you know, I own it.

So I've had zero interaction with the sister-in-law or brother-in-law since then. Sadly, I've also had zero interaction with their two boys, my wonderful nephews. That hurt me more than anything else, but I respected the walls their parents erected.

Fast-forward to this week.

Spouse's sister (a different sister) is getting married for the second time, and far be it from me to comment on how she beat her first marriage into submission. Anyway, spouse's mother demands that spouse attend Trainwreck Part II, so he flew to New York today.

He insisted that I pack his suitcase for him, by the way. And I complied, because in a few weeks I will no longer have to feel terrified of defying his wishes, but I'm not there yet.

Eight weeks, you guys. Eight weeks.

Long story short: He called me from the airport and informed me that "we" had forgotten to pack his dress shoes.

Even longer story even shorter: He said his sister (the one who cut me off) would be flying to New York in a couple of days and could pick up his shoes from our house.

But instead of Bitch Sister contacting Precocious Daughter to coordinate the pickup, I received a phone call from the brother-in-law, who asked if he could pick up the shoes and "have an audience" with me.

I reluctantly agreed.

Shown here: reluctance.

He came over, and we proceeded to have an exceedingly awkward conversation.

I'm pretty sure my point was that I miss my nephews and hope they are doing well.

His point was that...

I have no fucking idea what his point was.

He asked me if I remembered kissing him. (I don't.)

He said he tried to "advocate" for me. (Bullshit detector goes off.)

He said "sorry," but I have no goddamn clue what he's sorry for.

Bottom line: My spouse will have dress shoes to wear to his bitch sister's second attempt at a marriage.

Not going there, personally.

And I helped by having a ridiculous WTF conversation with someone who shit on my head and apparently wants me to tell the world I'm OK with it.

Here's my position. I forgive everybody. But I won't give permission to abuse me to people who abused me in the past. I'm not giving out peace coupons; find your fucking own.

Congratulations to all.

May you be happier than your words and deeds made me.