Really Good, Actually by Monica Heisey EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author Name: Monica Heisey
- Book Genre:
- ISBN # 1443470147
- Edition Language: English
- Date of Publication: January 17, 2023
- File Format: PDF / EPUB
- PDF / EPUB File Size: 9.3 MB
My marriage ended because I was cruel. Or because I ate in bed. Or
because he liked electronic music and difficult films about men in nature.
Or because I did not. Or because I was anxious, and this made me
controlling. Or because red wine makes me critical. Or because hunger,
stress and white wine make me critical, too. Or because I was clingy at
parties. Or because he smoked weed every day, and I did not think it was
‘actually the same thing’ as my drinking two cups of coffee in the morning.
Or because we fell in love too young, and how could our actual lives
compare to the idea we’d had of what our lives could be when we were
barely twenty and our bodies were almost impossibly firm? Or because we
tried non-monogamy for three months in 2011, and it was just fine, not
great. Or because he put hot sauce on everything, without tasting it, even if
I’d spent hours balancing the flavours from a recipe I’d had to scroll past a
long and detailed story about some woman’s holiday to find.
Or because he
forgot our anniversary once. Or because I did our laundry never. Or because
his large Greek family had not quite accepted me as one of their own, even
after I learned his yiayia’s favourite poem for her birthday. Or because he
walked in on me pooping that time. Or because, in 2015, we attended nine
weddings and got carried away, and a big party where everyone told us we
were geniuses for loving each other and gave us $3,000 seemed like a great
idea. Or because we went to Paris and had an argument instead of falling
more in love or at least rimming each other. Or because I’d stopped
imagining what our children might look like.
Or because he’d never started.
Or because I was insecure and sometimes petty. Or because he kept
insisting we go vegan, then sneaking pizzas into the apartment while I slept.
Or because we finished watching The Sopranos and never started The Wire.
Or because when we were first getting together, I’d kissed someone else,
and sometimes still thought about her. Or because he was needlessly
combative, with a pretentious streak. Or because I was a coward, whose
work did not ‘actively seek to dismantle the state’. Or because I scoffed
when he said that and asked about the socialist impact of his latest Burger
King commercial. Or because he called me a cunt. Or because sometimes, I
was one. Anyway, it was over.
Kind of. He’d moved out, taking the cat (for now) and a gaming system
and three acoustic guitars. The idea of Jon writing breakup songs in some
dark sublet filled me with equal parts deep despair and incredible relief –
despair, to think that I had caused him such pain he’d been driven to
experimental songwriting; relief that I wouldn’t have to listen to it.
Not that I begrudged him the impulse. This morning, after he left, I had
almost immediately taken a photo of myself, wanting to ‘preserve the
moment’ and entertaining grandiose ideas about this horrible loss marking
the start of a very creatively generative time.
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