Divorce Worth Celebrating?

I can't believe it's been a year since I told G that I wanted a divorce. Now the divorce is finally official and we only have a couple financial things to wrap up (the condo and his car) and we will no longer be connected.

Tomorrow my friend K and his wife are hosting a divorce party for me at their house. We've been saving and planning for this party for months with a paper cup on my desk that served as the Divorce Party Fund sponsored by my friend J. The cup was there collecting loose change from various office mates for so long we made $28.

The party promises to be a riot with various friends and coworkers and strangers showing up, imbibing in alcohol, roasting wieners, making smores, playing croquet, splashing in the hot tub and shredding it on Rock Band, but I'm honestly having a hard time feeling festive.

I vacillate between wondering if my biggest mistake was getting married or getting divorced. Am I really better off? Were we really that badly matched?

When I asked for divorce, I was so angry and scared, I could only see G as the enemy and his actions for the following few months only solidified that opinion in my mind. It's only been in the last couple weeks that I've been able to remember the good times like the time he covered the dinning room table in chocolate for Easter because I told him how it used to be a special holiday for me as a kid. When I think of how he used to help me wake up in the mornings and make me tea sometimes before work I'm so sorry I didn't try harder. Sorry that I got angry instead of compassionate. Sorry, that I let my insecurities and fear cloud my love. And I wish I could take it back.

But then I remember that he left me at a shopping mall with no forewarning, no transportation and no guarantee that he was coming back. I remember that he held me to the floor when I came home late from work after going out with friends for some cocktails. I remember how I used to ask him to stop the car so I could get something to eat or go to the bathroom and he would just keep driving like he didn't hear me and I wonder how I got myself in that situation to begin with.

As I'm writing this post, tears are streaming down my cheeks and I get a text message from the ex saying that someone is showing the condo tomorrow. In a moment of weakness, I text him back to say thanks for letting me know and that I'm so sorry it ended up this way.

He responds "Why do you keep saying that?"

My reply: "I didn't realize I was repeating it. I guess I just wish we could have ended on better terms without all the anger and fear." I'll probably regret this later, I'm thinking as I write this. I don't know how, but he'll probably use this against me.

His response: "It natural in the end. I just wanted it over once it was started. Your a good person we were just a bad fit in the end. I wish you all the..." Stupid phone didn't send the rest of the message. I imagine it's supposed to say something like "...best."

I wonder how he can say that when he doesn't have a job and our house is about to go into foreclosure. This is definitely, not the same guy I married. His girlfriend has definitely done some good work on him or maybe it was God since it appears from his Meetup.com profile that he goes to church now. (Yes, I cyber-spy sometimes.)

Should I reply? Can I say the same? Do I wish him all the best? Do I really think we were just a bad fit? Is it appropriate to just say thanks? If I don't say anything is that bad juju?

I settle on "Thanks. Better luck in the future 2 u 2." This is because I really do mean the thanks part and that I want him to have better luck farther in the future, but not yet and definitely not better luck than me. Truthfully, I still kinda want him to suffer for a little while, but not forever. I feel awful for thinking that and hope it doesn't jinx me in some way.

He replies with "Thx. I'll sure I be ok." This raises my hackles for some reason and I realize that he's never apologized. I furiously start typing a response and then sigh and lay down my phone. I don't want to fight.

I'm pretty sure I'll be OK too.