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Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
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Wednesday
Mar252009

Isn't It Romantic?

In between annoying the fuck out of each other Serge and I are still trying to love each other as best we can. Will definitely pursue couples counseling (I even hate the way it sounds; couples counseling) when I return to work and we can afford dinners out that aren't a notorious Mormon owned all-you-can-eat buffet.

The other night for some dumb reason or other we're barely on speaking terms. I'm in the bathroom doing my thing. Which, if you can't read between the lines, includes sitting on the toilet. Suddenly the door bangs open and Serge is shoving a glass of wine into my hand.
"What the...?"
"Here."
I take it. I mean, who am I to deny a glass of wine even while sitting on the toilet? It tastes the same. Don't know if he thought I was in the tub, he just followed through with the wine delivery and left and I never asked. Why question a glass of wine from the guy who often eyeballs how many glasses of wine I drink and just how much is in each glass? Wisely, I just went with it.