Magic Wand

A friend of mine asked me the other day: if I could wave a magic wand and make everything better right now, what would that look like?

It's a great question. And the answer is: I don't know.

I wouldn't wish for the wife to move back in with me, because I'm still too hurt, angry, and bitter about her leaving. Frankly, I don't know what us getting back together would look like. It couldn't ever look like it did before, because now I know she's capable of leaving me, something I never thought possible two months ago. So I can't imagine what our future together would even look like.

I can imagine being divorced, but it's not a very appealing picture. It would look a lot like my life when I was single, with the added baggage of a failed marriage behind me. I suppose I could get a little excited about dating again, but then I think I'm too old and too jaded to be successful at that. Plus, I've never been very good at dating. I've never been a playa, so it's not like I'm going to be adding a bunch of notches to my bedpost (as much as that fantasy may temporarily appeal to my walnut-sized male brain.) But if I didn't date or meet someone new, a life alone as the angry librarian-cat-guy is too depressing to even contemplate.

So I'm not wishing for her to come back, and I'm not wishing for a divorce. On the other hand, I'm not happy about this limbo we're in, either. I hate limbo. (Not the game where you try to shimmy under a stick to a Harry Belafonte song, but the state of in-betweenedness.) I want to know where I'm going so I can make preparations for the journey.

I want to get on with my life, but I don't know whether that life includes the wife or not. Or whether I even want that life to include the wife. So I'm at an impasse. The magic wand is useless.

But at least now I can enjoy the "Limbo Song" that writing this post has put into my head. And it's near impossible to feel depressed with that song in your head.