To say I’m a ‘money man’ is a tragic understatement. Not because I have a great deal of the stuff, you understand, but because I’m quite good at doing with what little I possess. This wasn’t always so. I received a trifling of financial advice from my parents and during high school I chose a dead language and over learning to balance a checkbook.
“Blood is thicker than a marriage certificate”. This fact was learned well before the Queen’s and my future marriage became present reality. Back when we lived in different homes, had individual bank accounts, and spent nearly half of each month not sharing our lives; she and I began to understand there would be limits when we did become ‘one flesh’.
This admission may come as a surprise for some – I don’t have a good relationship with the ex. One might think it would be better after a decade and our interwoven lives would be easing peacefully down their separate paths – this is not the case.
I chose it for the right reasons. It was close enough to my children but far enough from their mother. I would never mow a lawn or lay pine straw again. The rich onyx of the granite and doors gave off a masculine vibe sorely lacking in the others. But most important of all perhaps, it was new – symbolic of the life I was to begin.
Making friends was never easy for me. In many respects I’m a closet introvert. I can emerge from my cocoon when a job calls for it, presentation, conference, or meet-n-greet. But when no one is looking, I’m that guy holding up the wall waiting for someone to talk to him.