Coffee With Mr. Ex 

Met Mr. Ex today for an impromptu coffee date. He needed copies of last year's taxes so he could file. Of course, with moving and changing jobs, my filing system is not what it could be. I handed him copies of the state return, found packed in a box of dishes (what was I thinking when I did that?) with the promise of the federal return next week.

"How do we file?" he asked.

Sigh...some things never change. He still looks to me for all the answers. I am still his mama. I probably always will be.

I tell him we'll file separate. He didn't work enough last year to owe; I did. I told him to file, take his return and get more ink to go with the growing collection on his arm. When we were married, tats, booze and weed were more important than bills. It's slightly comforting to see that some things never change -- or do they?

"You look good," I said -- meaning it.

He looked better today than he has in years. Happier, more rested, more at peace. And he definitely looks the best he has since we parted ways. No red-rimmed eyes, no voice thick with emotion, no shaking hands or hard-pressed lips. Could it be that he's finally accepted that it's over, that I'm never coming back, that there is no "us"?

"I am happy," he said with satisfaction. "At least, I try to be. I stopped smoking weed, stopped the hard partying."

I told him that was great, that it was exciting to see him full of life once again. I told him he looked better than he ever did when we were together.

"You look like you finally like yourself," I said.

"I do," he said. "Well, I'm working on liking me...it's a lot easier to do when someone isn't constantly nagging you and putting you down."

I let the dig go. I don't need to defend myself, my actions or tell him he's wrong anymore. I'm over it; I want him to be over it. Arguing over who was the worse mate won't accomplish any of that.

He told me he's been seeing a therapist, and it sounds to me like it's working well for him. Therapy never worked when we were together. I don't know if it's because of the therapist's technique or just the fact that I'm no longer in the picture as the emotional punching bag. I don't care. I'm just glad to see a change in him. We talk a bit about his dating life, about the frustrations of living with his parents, of being unemployed. And we talk about his goals for the future. He actually has goals now and a plan of action on how to achieve them.

I feel like a proud mama bird whose baby has just left the nest. He has moved on; he really will be OK without me there to guard his every step. I feel deep freedom and release as we hug goodbye, knowing that he's doing great without me.

And then he grabs my ass.

I guess there's still some of that inner 15-year-old left after all. Some things really do never change.