All mature and shit.

So, I arrived at Mr. Wonderful’s home about 15 minutes before the Ex-Mrs. Wonderful (Ex-MW) was due to pick up their daughter. Mr. Wonderful, his daughter and I sat on the floor and played a game. And I sweated profusely.

Ok, not really. Just sort of.

Ex-MW showed up, all high-pitched voice and mommy excitement. We shook hands and both said, “Nice to meet you.”

And then?

And then she knocked me down, pulled my hair and beat me to a bloody pulp.

Ok, not really. She sat on the floor and, for the next eight minutes, proceeded to show off her superior mommying abilities. She was very ENGAGED with her daughter, hearing all about her day. She was very animated and energetic with her child.

I literally ceased to exist.

Ok, not really. I sat on an ottoman and smiled. Engaged, yet invisible.

And then they packed up and left. The end.

So, for eight whole minutes, I managed not to do drugs, get drunk or strip. I guess I passed. Mr. Wonderful joked that I should have been all, “You guys? I’m really nervous, and I’m more comfortable when I’m topless. Mind if I take off my shirt?”

Yet another reason why I love him.

So, the whole thing was rather anticlimactic, except, as a woman, I’m pretty sure that my appearance and behavior is being discussed (cattily?) amongst friends. I’m somewhat amazed that it was so important that she meet me, yet she literally spoke four words to me. I guess the real test was whether I could go eight minutes with no meth, likker or peeling.

I’m trying very hard not to be catty about the whole situation. I don’t want that sort of energy to taint my thinking on this one. But I will say that I can’t in a gazillion years picture Mr. Wonderful and Ex-Mrs. Wonderful together. And I’m also thankful that I basically never have to see He Who Shall Not Be Named ever, ever again.