I went on vacation with my ex-husband

I said I would report back. David and I survived eleven days together and did so without any bumps or bruises. Other than a few hours here and there, we had not spent any significant time together since our separation almost four years ago so I was a little nervous about it. The first year apart was really rough for me and things weren’t easy between us, but eventually time healed and we became friendly. I always knew we would. In spite of the way we parted (it wasn’t pretty), neither of us have ever been the type to hold a grudge or let anger build to resentment. Still, I wasn’t sure what the vacation might bring. Would old wounds resurface? Would we get drunk and start rehashing? Would I regret going?

None of that happened. I admit that it felt slightly awkward in the beginning. We were traveling with friends so I knew there would be buffers all around, but the little side trip to Italy was going to be just the two of us. Before the trip, I researched sleeping arrangements. In Germany, we were staying at our friend, Ulrich’s parent’s house. Ulrich told me that David and I would be sharing a room, but that the two twins that normally made a king bed would be pulled apart and we would have our own beds. I would have preferred my own room, but beggars can’t be choosy. In Italy, it was the same sleeping situation.

I know this all might sound a bit odd. I slept in the same bed with that man for over 20 years. What would be the big deal? It actually wouldn’t have been that big of a deal. I would have if that were the only option, but I didn’t want to. I can only describe it as a monumental shift in the course of our relationship. It’s not that I thought anything would happen between us, though I know it can be quite common for exes to revisit that part of their relationship because of familiarity, or whatever. I have come to the conclusion that this was my mindset, You just don’t get to sleep with me anymore. And by that I mean sleep or sleep.

He also didn’t get to see me naked. This, he pointed out, was very strange for him the first time I told him to leave the room when I wanted to change my clothes. I’m not really all that modest, but again, my mindset, You just don’t get to see me naked anymore. I wasn’t presuming he wanted anything more, but if we were going to be spending that much time together and in such close quarters, I needed to establish boundaries. Once that was out of the way, we could simply enjoy the vacation as exactly what we are to each other now. Friends.

The happy un-couple at the end of a good trip.