Six Months to Get a Life

by Ben Adams

  She will probably think I still care about her. Honestly, though, she would be wrong. I care about being part of a couple. I care about having someone to share things with. I care about having someone to sleep with. Seeing my ex last night just brought it all home to me. It isn’t that I want to be back with my ex. I don’t. I just want to be with someone. Yes, I am jealous that she has got there before me, but I didn’t for one minute last night wish that I was mister comb-over. OK, maybe for one minute…

  I learned a valuable lesson last night. Not the lesson you might be thinking of, but a completely different one. Always empty the sand from your trainers before you walk into the house. I spent half of my morning hoovering up the mess. I tried to blame the children but my parents, not to mention the boys, weren’t having it.

  Neither Jack nor Sean had any inkling as to who combover Mark was or where my ex met him. Without putting any pressure on them I asked them to let me know if they saw him about the house in the coming days. As far as I could tell he wasn’t there when I dropped the boys off at their mum’s after their respective cricket matches. My ex was though, standing hands on hips in the doorway. I apologised for my performance in the pub. ‘Fuck off,’ was her somewhat terse response. At least we are still on speaking terms.

  I spent the afternoon diligently filling in a couple of application forms. I am not quite sure what an ‘asset protection manager’ is but I am sure I can Google it if they decide to interview me.

  Tuesday 3rd June

  I am now committed to renting the flat off Martin Way. I have paid far too much money over to the estate agents. Subject to references, I hope to be able to move in in a couple of weeks. I am still not sure I am doing the right thing but for my own self-esteem as much as anything, I need to have ‘my own place’. I won’t dwell yet on the fact that it isn’t actually mine. I told my parents the good news.

  My mum had one last ditch attempt to get me to go home to my ex. ‘Graham, are you sure you can’t just move back in to your old house? I am absolutely certain your family would still take you back if you asked.’

  I thought about telling her about Mr comb-over but I didn’t have the energy. Instead I just shrugged and told her it wasn’t happening.

  ‘Well if you won’t go back then at least reassure us that you will continue bringing Jack and Sean round to see us,’ she followed up. At what point do your parents start to care more about their daughter-in-law and their grandchildren than they do about their own children?

  Amy and Susie the shih poo were waiting for us at the Windmill when Albus and I arrived tonight. To lay my cards on the table, I have really got the hots for Amy and it isn’t just because it’s been a while since, you know.

  We had another great night dog-walking and drinking, at the end of which we at last exchanged phone numbers. Amy suggested that we should engineer a weekend dog walking ‘chance’ encounter when we had our kids with us.

  I am not sure of the etiquette of dating when you have kids. At what point should you introduce your children to your date? I let my kids have a say in where I was thinking of living but there is no way I am letting them have a say in who I date. What if my kids don’t get on with Amy or Lucy? What if Albus falls out with Susie? Lots of questions, but at the moment I am quite excited about the prospect of seeing Amy again. I don’t want to compartmentalise my life too much, so let’s chuck everything in the pot and see what happens.

  Wednesday 4th June

  The boys are off on a scouts’ trip at the weekend so they came to see me this evening. My ex phoned me before dropping them off and gave me strict instructions that neither of them is allowed to play on any gaming devices. When I asked her why, she told me to ask them.

  It isn’t easy being a parent at the best of times, i.e. when you are living under one roof. My ex and I had one golden rule when we were parents and that was always agree with the other parent, however wrong they may be. I always tried my best to adhere to that one simple rule, which was why we came home from our camping trip to Devon after only one day all because my kids woke up early and my ex had a go at them.

  I was a bit sceptical today though. Is it right for the ex to be punishing the kids when they are in my care? Maybe it is but if a punishment I dished out spanned in to her time with the boys, I have absolutely no faith that my ex would enforce it. She didn’t always stick to her side of the bargain when we lived together. I would often come home from work to find the kids watching the telly despite me having banned them from watching it for a week for some misdemeanour or other. She would justify it by saying something inane like ‘I needed to cook dinner’ or ‘leave them alone, they’re tired’. Basically there was one rule for me and another for my ex.

  When the boys arrived I asked them what they had done wrong to get them a gaming device ban. I had decided that if the punishment truly did fit the crime then I would still continue to support my ex. I might not be married to her anymore but we are still partners in the rearing of our children.

  ‘Dad, it’s not fair,’ Sean complained, ‘all we were doing was playing games on mum’s phone.’

  ‘She totally lost it with us and sent us to bed. I mean it’s ridiculous dad, how old are we?’ Jack joined in.

  ‘She sent you to bed and banned you from computers for playing on her phone?’ I asked. This didn’t sound particularly feasible to me. The boys have spent half their childhoods playing with our phones.

  ‘We might have read a facebook message that popped up when we were playing,’ Jack conceded.

  At this point I know I should have let it lie, or maybe even reinforced the importance of personal privacy. Instead I found myself asking about the message. My boys took great pleasure in telling me it was from Mark, aka Mr combover. He apparently messaged my ex thanking her for a great night and asking her over for dinner.

  ‘That’s not all it said though,’ Sean threw in. As if that wasn’t enough. ‘This Mark guy went on to ask mum whether it was definitely over between you and her because he thought you were still in love with mum.’ Excuse my language but who does the fucking idiot think he is?

  ‘But don’t worry dad, we put him straight,’ Jack let on. Somewhat sheepishly I asked my son how he put my ex’s new lover straight.

  ‘We sent him a reply saying that mum has never been so bored in her life, she thinks he’s an idiot and never wants to see him again,’ Jack explained.

  ‘And don’t forget the bit about him having a small penis,’ my twelve-year-old chirped.

  The boys and I had a great evening playing on the PS4.

  Thursday 5th June

  Do I or don’t I phone Amy? It has only been two days since I saw her last. We agreed we would go out walking at some point with our respective children. Mine aren’t with me this weekend. Does that mean I can’t see Amy? Would it look odd if I phoned and suggested another adults-only dog walk? I am not officially going out with Amy so I don’t want her to think I am being too pushy or too desperate. I mentioned my dilemma to Dave, who knows about these things.

  ‘When your mum’s dying of cancer you realise that life is too short to piss about,’ he told me.

  So I stopped being a wet fart and phoned her. Someone else, presumably her daughter Lucy, answered the call. I quickly went back to being a wet fart and hung up. My relationship with Amy seems destined either to be a slow burner or maybe even a spark that doesn’t catch. I will try her again tomorrow.

  Saturday 7th June

  With the kids now ensconced in a tent somewhere in the rain, I have been left to my own devices for the weekend. Most of my own devices are now the property of my ex, so what that means in reality is that I have been surfing the net to find more jobs I can do. I said I wanted to work with animals but I draw the line at being a chicken sexer or a dog food tester – these can’t be real jobs surely? I applied to be ‘head of category management’ for a stationery company. I have less of a clue about that one than I had about the asset protection manager job.


  I have also been phoning Amy. Two, five, ten times in the last day or two. No one has answered my calls. Maybe she’s avoiding me. I went over our last meeting in my head. I don’t think I embarrassed myself. In fact, I thought I did pretty well and am pretty sure she had thought so too. But why isn’t she returning my calls? I am not used to having Amy in my life but somehow I am already missing her. In the end I sent her a text. ‘Fancy meeting me for dinner on Tuesday instead of walking the dog? Graham Hope.’ She hasn’t replied yet.

  I don’t know what possessed me to do it but I also checked out my ex’s recent posts on Facebook. I got a shock. It’s her birthday. I hadn’t even realised. Although we didn’t tend to make a big thing of our birthdays, I have never totally forgotten her birthday before.

  I wonder how she is spending the day. The kids aren’t with her because they are on camp. They hadn’t mentioned her birthday to me but that doesn’t surprise me. The boys only tend to remember their own birthdays. They wouldn’t have brought her a present either because I hadn’t given them any extra money to buy it with or kicked their backsides to go shopping.

  The thought that it was my ex’s birthday and I hadn’t noticed actually depressed me a bit. It is just one more sign of how far apart we have drifted. How truly out of the non-kids part of her life I am. I am trying to see it as a positive: that it means I am getting over my ex, I am not attached to her like I used to be, I don’t hang off her every word. The problem with that viewpoint, though, is that I keep checking her Facebook status all the time.

  I bet my ex is struggling today, not being with her kids on her birthday. I sent her a Facebook message telling her I hope she has a good day and letting her know that the kids’ present is on its way.

  I could tell from the profile picture that one of the numerous birthday messages she had been sent on facebook was from Mr comb-over. ‘Happy birthday sexy,’ he had written for my ex and half the world to see. Whatever.

  Sunday 8th June

  Last night we had an impromptu final really final this time leaving party for Andy. We started off in the Prince of Wales in Wimbledon but for some reason ended up in a gay night club in Soho. It seems that wherever I go, I end up spending the evening propping up the bar with Andy while Dave lights up the dance floor and Ray struts around preening himself. Over our third or fourth Jagerbomb, Andy told me he thinks Ray is gay. I haven’t known Ray for as long as I have known Dave and Andy and now that Andy mentions it I can’t actually recall seeing Ray with a girl. My gaydar is pretty rubbish (anyone less obvious than Julian Clary would probably not show up) so for all I know Andy may have a point about Ray. It would certainly explain why we ended up at a gay night club.

  The vibe in the club was good (my kids would LOL if they heard me using a phrase like that). Everyone got on with everyone. I am sure I was chatted up a couple of times. Why doesn’t that happen when I go out to straight clubs? I texted my sister Hills and told her where I was.

  ‘Gay bars are crap these days ‘cos they are full of straight people like you,’ was her reply.

  That was last night. I have spent today recovering and catching up with my ex’s activities on social media, a habit I really must kick. Her latest Facebook update indicates that she wasn’t sitting at home crying into her pillow on her birthday. She was ‘punting’ on the river Cam. And when I say punting I don’t mean she was betting on it. And she was with Mr comb-over. She probably hadn’t even noticed that the kids hadn’t bought her a present. I won’t bother buying her some tacky earrings on the boys’ behalf then.

  I received a long-awaited text from Amy too. Strangely, it read, ‘I wasn’t expecting that question via text!’ God, what had I done? I thought I had texted Amy asking her if she fancied meeting up for dinner. What could have been wrong with that? I checked back and it turns out I had managed to press send prematurely. I had actually asked ‘do you fancy me’. God what a muppet I am. She must have thought I’m some sort of weirdo. Who in their right mind would ask someone via text if they fancied them?

  I spent some time thinking about how I could rectify the situation. I could text her explaining my mistake but knowing me I would probably cock that up too. In the end I just phoned her and told her of my error. After an awkward start to the conversation, Amy and I ended up laughing about my uselessness. She actually can’t do Tuesday but we have agreed to meet up on Saturday with our respective children. I am still not sure if involving our offspring in our relationship at this early stage is the right thing to do but after my texting error I am just grateful she wants to meet up at all. Roll on Saturday.

  Monday 9th June

  Jack called in this evening on his way back from a school cricket match. He was full of the joys of spring. His school team had won. He had also had a good weekend at the scout camp. When I asked him whether he had missed anything noteworthy when he was away, he thought for a minute and said no.

  ‘What about your mum’s birthday?’ I prompted.

  ‘We might not have been there, but we gave her a present before we went.’ It turns out that they had bought her a bottle of perfume, paid for through saving their pocket money for the last month.

  ‘Why didn’t you mention it to me?’ I asked. ‘I could have helped you out with the cost of the present.’

  ‘Because you aren’t married to mum anymore. She isn’t your wife and you don’t really like each other so why would you buy her a present?’ Jack responded.

  My boys are full of surprises. They have had to shoulder more responsibility because of their parents’ divorce. I wish they hadn’t had to but they seem to be doing us proud. I hate the way the divorce segregates our lives. Despite having a pretty good relationship with the boys, I don’t get to share a lot of what they do. They are growing up fast and I am missing out on sharing big chunks of the process with them.

  I sent Jack home with some cash for him and his brother towards the cost of buying their mum’s present.

  Once he had gone, I spent the rest of the evening looking up what an asset protection manager is as I received an email inviting me for an interview on Friday.

  Wednesday 11th June

  What do divorced parents do when it comes to school parents’ evenings? Well, bearing in mind it was mine and my ex’s first parents’ evening as non-cohabiting parents, we decided we would both go. We took this decision partly because it is ‘the right thing to do’ but I suspect the real reason was that we didn’t trust each other to report back.

  The evening went quite well. We managed not to dwell for too long on Mr comb-over. I did discover my ex had given the kids some money a couple of weeks ago towards the cost of her present. I shall be having words with my eldest boy, the cheeky git.

  Our first appointment of the evening was with Sean’s form teacher. I didn’t drool too publicly over her and in return she didn’t mention that she had seen my naked arse in Morden swimming baths. Then it was on to Sean’s English teacher. She was positively gushing in her praise for his creative writing and particularly liked his imaginative piece on the impact of a parental split on two brothers.

  His RE, music and art teachers told us off for not bothering to make an appointment to see them. My response was that Sean is never going to be a vicar, a famous composer or an impressionist painter, so what was the point in seeing them? In response his art teacher pointed out that he had seen Sean playing football and in his opinion Sean is never going to be a famous footballer so we needn’t bother going to see the PE teacher either. A bit rude but probably fair enough.

  A couple of Jack’s teachers did comment on his work going downhill as the year progressed, which was slightly concerning.

  My kids (sorry, our kids) are pretty bright and keen to learn. I have a basic rule that I try to instil in Jack and Sean. Whatever they do, they should be proud of themselves. This rule is easy to say but harder to live your life by. When I was at school, I would often rush work so that I could get out and play football. My kids are just the same. They won
’t always prioritise their homework. But I suspect they’ve been even less likely to prioritise it over the last few months as neither of their parents has been nagging them as much as we used to. When I only see the kids for a day here and a day there, I confess I don’t spend the whole time making sure they are proud of their work. I feel a bit guilty about this but I am also learning that sometimes in life you have to adapt your approach as a parent. For the past few months, being there for my boys has seemed more important than the daily grind of completing online maths questions, writing about some artist no one has ever heard of or discussing which invention was the most influential in facilitating the industrial revolution.

  In a rare moment of harmony between us, my ex and I agreed on the way out of the parents’ evening that we would focus more on supporting our children at school. We will make more effort to build homework into our parenting timetable (not that we actually have a parenting timetable) and we will help Jack and Sean to make sure they have the right books in the right place at the right time to do their school work. Jack’s incident with his geography books a couple of months ago wasn’t an isolated incident. The kids need to take responsibility for their own work, but as parents we haven’t made it easy for them. If my ex and I were given a school report for being parents, the teacher would have written ‘could do better’.

  Friday 13th June

  The kids stayed over with me last night. They wanted to watch the first World Cup game with me.

  The World Cup is an excuse for quality father and son time. The ex knows absolutely nothing about football and used to repeatedly embarrass herself at little league by cheering the opposition’s goals. So the kids jumped at the chance of watching the opening game with me. It didn’t start until late so the opportunity to stay up late on a school night probably also had an impact on their considerations.