New partner: He is becoming more and more like my ex
When Hannes came down the stairs, he had a tray in his hand. A cup of coffee stood on it and a small plate of the almond biscuits that I like so much. "Take a break, my heart," he said with a smile, shoving one of the cartons aside, which I had been filling for two hours with all the crap that had been clogging our cellar shelves for years. How nice of him, that was my first thought. I looked at this man standing there in his immaculate white shirt as I crouched dusty and sweaty between boxes, I saw his face with that diligent look, and my second thought hit me in a flash: That's exactly what you've experienced , Only that I was then 20 years younger and knee-deep in the clogged sewer manhole of a terraced cellar, it was empty to schippen. On the tray stood a glass of well-chilled Riesling, and it held out to me, in the immaculate shirt, was my then-husband.
New partner, old quirks
No one likes to dig in the dirt. Even my girlfriends have partners who prefer to relax rather than dirty. Christoph, my ex, had it in the cross, Hannes refers to his tennis elbow, both belong to the genus man, so similarities can not be ruled out. All this went through my head when I later thought about this déjà vu. Still, it was more than a coincidental parallel, more than a funny situation that I would later bring to the people as a whimsical anecdote. The corresponding insight was just too strange: Hannes, the great love of my life, became more and more like Christoph, my ex.
I reviewed the arguments of the last few months. Tried to remind me what exactly it was that made me increasingly hysterical to Hannes. I remembered the weekend shopping, the car full of food. And Hannes, who jumps off the sofa in the living room when I come in with heavy bags. He shouts: "I'll do it, dear" and then fishes nothing but a large pack of toilet paper from the trunk, before he can be praised and disappears behind the "FAZ" again. I remembered the Willie Nelson concert, which I definitely did not want to miss. Hannes' full-bodied announcement to take care of the cards, and how we sat in front of the telly on the evening of the concert, because unfortunately: too long waiting with the ticket purchase. I thought about the many days with a lot of work on my desk and how Hannes slips past my office and casually asks what we eat today. To the frustration, the rage that rises in me at such moments because he has to see that I can not take care of it.
© Yvonnes_photos / PhotocaseFeelings like old acquaintances to whom I had actually broken off the contact. Only: The man who upset me so is not a legacy. He is the one who caused me to break out of a long-standing marriage. A painful divorce took on me. With whom I wanted to venture the new beginning, a life full of love and liveliness. I left Christoph because I was tired of being in charge of everything unpleasant. I have to strive for everything beautiful myself. To have someone by my side who, when I am already on the limit, still packs a shit on it. And now, ten years later, it starts again. Welcome home.
When I met Hannes, Christoph had been retired for three years. And as with so many couples, the end of his career was a test of endurance for our already crumbling marriage. Christoph hardly went to the door, wandered off the sofa onto the terrace with his - yes - "FAZ" and back again, he knew little about himself, the usual. There was no Schonraum, no buffer, no escape, because as an independent accountant, I work mostly from home. I woke up uneasily in the morning, and my ears grew to radar screen size throughout the day as my eyes glued to rows of numbers. Every sound that Christoph made, I checked his invitation character. The fridge door said: Now he is hungry. The folding of the newspaper: Now he wants to talk about American foreign policy. The patio door: Now I'm with him to commit the garden. Each of his life expressions: a pulse accelerator.
I was easy prey, no question. For three months I was supposed to work in a freight forwarding agency as an accountant, and within a month it was clear that Hannes, the owner of the company, was interested in me. At first I could not believe it, then I was electrified. There was this smart, smart man, and he was serious. Hannes really did not miss anything to conquer me. If I had time, he once asked me around lunchtime, I should come with him, he wanted to show me someone who had almost as beautiful, gentle eyes as me. And then he drove me to the zoo.The eyes he meant belonged to a little giraffe. It took half a year for Christoph to find out, I was too excited, too radiant for him to escape. Six terrible months later I moved out at home. I was incredibly in love and was ashamed as never before in my life. To leave a man 15 years older, a retiree - no one understood that, not even me.
Is it because of me that a relationship pattern is repeating that I was so tired of? My urge to always take everything into my own hands and my inability to just sit and let the others do - at his pace, in his own way? Or is it just the age? A normal process of change, which makes the two men similar to each other? Even Hannes is older than me, eleven years, he has stopped working too. He now likes to wipe the kitchen, another tendency he shares with Christoph. His hair, which was once blond and curly, is white. Ten years ago, the two men were sometimes taken for brothers, I had been seen in the company of my brother-in-law, they said, now they have also adapted in color.
It may be that my new partner is becoming more and more like my ex. But he also had some very nice sites
It was my youngest son, who recently made me aware after a visit, that the dinners follow the same pattern as the one we had at home: mother and sons are sitting at the table, chatting and laughing. Next to it an elderly man, mute. The explanation is as simple as it is sobering: deafness. At Christoph she started at 60, Hannes five years later. Sometimes I almost laugh at how the scenes are alike. The silence. The monologues. Held by a man who does not want to be embarrassed having to understand the phrases of others. The man whose erotic charisma made my knees tremble. Who with his questions lured my soul from its most secret corners. Now he is sitting there. Silent. Lectures.
And me? Do what I have always done in relationship frustration. Drop me into work, shoot in my own juice, cook in between, roar around, pull me back into my office. It usually lasts two hours, then I hear footsteps in the hall, and Hannes pokes his head in the door. On a cloth giraffe sits. "Look her in the eye, kid," he says, and then I have to laugh, and my gaze softens. It may be that he is becoming more like my ex. But he also had some very nice sites.
