When my ex and I decided to part ways, we made a pact to stay friends. We envisioned a supportive friendship, not just for ourselves, but for our children, our families, and friends as well. We aspired to have a divorce that was as amicable as possible—something others would admire if they ever found themselves in a similar situation.
For a brief period, it seemed to work. He settled into his new place, and we would share dinners on the nights the kids were with one of us. We even embarked on a family camping trip a few months post-separation, albeit in separate tents. However, underlying tensions made it hard to feel completely at ease. Conversations felt strained—how would he react if I mentioned a date? Instead, we stuck to discussing the kids. The dynamic mirrored our married life, but now, it came with an unmistakable layer of discomfort.
Initially, I dismissed these feelings, thinking that a transition period was natural and that we would eventually find our footing. However, as time passed, the tension only intensified. He became increasingly passive-aggressive about my dating life and made snide comments regarding my financial situation, insinuating that I couldn’t manage to keep our shared home. During a weekend getaway with friends—actually a gift from my mom—he relentlessly criticized my spending habits, which only deepened my resentment.
When the kids weren’t around, he would bring up the subject of intimacy, despite my clear disinterest. His persistence made me uncomfortable and frustrated. I tried to deflect his remarks, redirecting our conversations to the children or work matters, determined not to engage with his toxic behavior. My resolve was rooted in the very reasons we had divorced.
Despite my hopes that ignoring his comments would lead to a change, the opposite occurred. He began to imply that I was the cause of our family’s disintegration, subtly blaming me for our divorce. His comments about being “kicked out” of the home we once shared, despite his insistence that I keep it, stung deeply. I often reminded myself that his anger was simply a response to hurt, and that he would eventually revert to the friend he claimed he wanted to be. Yet, the more we interacted, the more I felt relieved that I had left him.
Criticism had always been part of our relationship, and while I had managed to avoid most of it while we were together, I quickly became his target after our split. Tired of the negativity, I stopped inviting him over for dinners and ceased visiting him, even though it pained me not to see the kids. When he asked to discuss our friendship one evening, I knew what was coming: “Why aren’t we friends like you promised?”
I explained that his anger had turned him cruel, and that our interactions felt more like a chore than the joy of friendship. The tension I felt when receiving a text from him was a stark contrast to the warmth I experienced from friends. He admitted he had been acting poorly and asked if we could start fresh. I told him I wasn’t interested.
Perhaps one day we could genuinely be friends, but at that moment, I couldn’t pretend. I made it clear that he needed to earn back my trust and that I would no longer tolerate his emotional manipulation.
What I realized upon breaking my promise to maintain a friendship was that we had never truly shared a deep bond. Our divorce stemmed from our fundamental incompatibilities, including his critical nature and my advocacy for kindness and inclusion. Our interests diverged significantly—I loved documentaries, while he preferred slapstick humor, and my passion for reading was met with his disdain.
Accepting that we couldn’t be friends was a bitter pill to swallow, especially for the sake of the kids. Yet, I knew it was the healthiest choice for all of us, as they too sensed the tension between us. More importantly, I recognized that prioritizing my own well-being was long overdue. This meant letting go of the fantasy of friendship with my ex.
In conclusion, while the dream of a harmonious co-parenting relationship remains elusive, I am committed to putting myself first, even if that means relinquishing my hope for a friendship with him.