Gray area.

There will potentially be a Big Ex sighting on Saturday.

(I will pause for a moment while the horrific ramifications of that situation are fully absorbed.)

For all of my new readers, let me explain.

The Big Ex is my ex-husband. He has his own label. (Please check it out for more of a back story, and also, in my opinion, some of the most honest posts I've ever written.)

When I was barely 19, The Big Ex and I met at a party. He was almost 20. We started dating immediately, and three drama-filled, rock-starred out, communicationally-challenged years later, we got married. We were both 22 (me, barely, him, almost 23).

It was his idea. I'd like to stress that.

(Not that I wasn't really excited. And happy. It's just that...no one else was. Including him. But more on that later.)

For me, it was the commitment I'd been waiting for. I didn't think about marriage at that point, but I figured that since HE was, it must be okay. And it was something tangible. Something to show he really cared, and that he thought about me when we weren't together. At least that's what I told myself.

(By the way? If you need something to PROVE TO YOU that your boyfriend actually likes you, and that if you dropped off a cliff tomorrow he would notice? It probably shouldn't be a proposal.)

So. We get married. And 5 months later, he wakes up one morning and tells me he doesn't think he wants to be married anymore.

I wasn't surprised. Honestly. I could say that I was, but that would be a lie. We weren't happy. In the 4 year course of our relationship, I think we were only really happy in year 2. The rest was a constant struggle. I was pulling him closer, and he was pulling away.

I can say that now. I can admit it. And the thought of that morning, the morning that the rest of my life changed, doesn't make me sick to my stomach. Anymore.

I don't know the point for me where girl ended and woman/wife began. And I'm not sure when I realized that happily-ever-after has strings attached. But I do know that I am so much stronger than that girl who locked herself in the bathroom of the apartment that we couldn't afford, and cried until she thought she'd break.

We split up. I got my own apartment. I moved quickly, efficiently, and I put my feelings on a shelf. It was sink or swim, and I chose swim. He took my independence as a sign that I was okay with everything.

He had second thoughts.

But they weren't genuine. It's hard, when you spend some of the most formative years of your life with someone, to just cut ties. It was hard for me to give him his space; not to call him in the middle of the night when I cried myself to sleep, not to ask him "Are you SURE this is what you want?" or "Why don't you love me anymore?"

I was desperate not to be "that girl." You know the one. The one who can't take a hint. The one who won't leave him alone. The one he's so glad that he finally got rid of. I couldn't be her. Wouldn't.

Almost one year after we were married, we filed for divorce. I would've liked to file sooner, but we had some loose ends. Six months later it was over, almost before it began.

By the time our divorce was final, we'd been split up for over a year. It seemed, alternately, like a lifetime ago, and then just yesterday. I had a new life, new friends and old ones, and a job that kept me busy.

Six months after my divorce was final, I re-met Hubs. At first, I wasn't sure, but after our first date, I knew that this was the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

I argued with myself that this couldn't be moving so fast, that I was a divorcee and that I should know better. I had more baggage than the average 24 year old girl. I wasn't planning on getting married again any time soon.

But I had to trust myself, and my instincts. I knew I couldn't be afraid forever. So I dove in. Six months after we started dating, Hubs proposed. I had been officially divorced for a year. I thought my family and friends would be apprehensive, but everyone just kept telling me the same thing:

"This is going to be so different. You're doing the right thing."

After all of the opposition The Big Ex and I faced, it was so comforting, and refreshing, to have my family behind my decision. And for them to share my happiness.

Hubs and I have been married, as of today, for 1 year, 7 months, and 2 weeks. We have been together for 3 years, 3 months, and 1 week.

I look back on my life during my first marriage and I feel sorry. I feel sorry for myself, and I also feel sorry for The Big Ex, because we didn't know what we were doing. We didn't know how to be married. We didn't know ourselves.

We've seen each other only sporadically since the signing of our divorce papers. I haven't seen him face to face in over two years.

After our separation, there were some unspoken rules that we've both done our best to adhere to. We gave each other custody of our favorite bars, and quietly divided our friends. We've never accidentally run in to each other, save for one occasion two years ago when I wasn't properly informed of his current job.

I can honestly say, that day, that it was nice to see him.

And I think he felt the same way. (You never know with him, though.)

You don't just STOP loving someone, no matter what you say. We grew up in our 4 years together. We loved together. We buried relatives, had pets, quit jobs, and got into debt. We fought, and cried, and yelled, and gave each other the silent treatment. We made mistakes.

If I see him on Saturday, he will be with his new wife, and I will be with my new husband. It will be awkward.

He will be the same man, yet different. Older. Kind. Shy. Distant.

I will look fabulous. (Clearly.)

He will act like nothing happened. I will watch his eyes for a flicker of someone I used to know.

Life is not black and white. It is always shades of gray. (I personally find the gray areas more interesting. But that is probably because I am a sucker for the drama.)

If I see him on Saturday, I will smile. I will be polite, but reserved. I will ask about his family. We will talk like strangers with an elephant in the room. But it will be okay.

After all, I want him to be happy.

Just not as happy as me.