The Ex-Wife

I've been wondering, lately, if perhaps I've been too hard on the ex-wife.

Don't get me wrong. I haven't been too hard on her by that much. I'm not going to suddenly decide that I was wrong to leave her (the sword aimed at my head says a bit too much about how well that would have worked out), and I'm not saying she wasn't some manner of crazed vicious beast of the seven hells, fueled by the power of dark gods and sheer hate, not when I know which dark god fueled her and she was perfectly willing to admit that hate, literally, provided that power for a good bit of what she did.

I can't but thinking, though, that I'm not exactly innocent in the whole mess. After all, it was her that told me, early on, too, that it wasn't too likely that a follower of Wee Jas and a cleric of Pelor weren't going to have the easiest time of it, as far as marriages went. And that wasn't even counting the human/dwarf bit, or the nobility/not bit, or the bit where she slaughtered an entire village of lads I had just finish curing of plague in order to prove some legal point or other. Or, for that matter, that she thought all the healing I did was robbing her goddess of souls that lawfully belonged to Wee Jas.

Alright, so she was right. It was a terrible idea. If I'm perfectly honest about it, it would never in a thousand generations have worked, not even if she had'd been some kind of saint and I had stayed out of her mead cellar.

Really, I don't know what made me think it was going to work out. I was young, I suppose. And less connected to Pelor's will.

And my eyes came right up to her arse. By Pelor's beard, that might have helped more than I'd care to admit.

She was a damn fine woman, in her way. In the bedroom, particularly.

But it never would have worked out, whatever else I'd like to say. And maybe, I think, I should stop blaming all of that shit on her.

Or maybe she was just an awful, horrid bitch. I suppose I'll never know.