I've been harsh with my husband, perhaps unnecessarily harsh. The announced celebration was not to be a romantic farewell, but an attempt at reconquering me, a swift manoeuvre bringing me back to what our life has been these last 12 years; a simple continuation of the contract under unmodified conditions. But I should have given him at least some time to digest that I want to divorce. After all, this is not a piece of news to take just as it comes.
Perhaps I should be grateful that anyone still thinks about reconquering me, at my 46 years of age.
But if this is a search for truth, I should recon that my negotiations failed absolutely; I verify to have achieved just the same level of communication as if I had thrown cushions at him along these last 12 years. I've already written about it: I've never been assertive, the fault is all mine. Or nearly all.
Also, that's the end of negotiations. He cannot negotiate to keep me, I do not admit such a possibility. So what remains is merely a question of style.
Perhaps he never understood just one thing about me: that I am precisely the harsh warrior from the North I've mentioned in one of my previous posts; gender is irrelevant. Perhaps I never understood this about myself.