It’s my fault for being happy for 30 seconds

When I left your house, I was happy.  I was fucking happy.  This should have set off warning bells, but it didn’t.  I went home and I talked to my friends about you and I smiled like an idiot and gushed like a teenager. 

The Guilt

I used to joke with my ex husband about how many kids we would have. I wanted 4; he wanted 2. So I said that we should have 6! That way if we get divorced, he can take his 2 and I will take my 4. If we ended up not getting divorced, then we would always have an extra gift lying around if we forgot someone’s birthday. “Oh, it’s your 30th? Here, have a baby!” And also we would have spares if any of the children needed a liver. Win-win-win.