From the Diary of Captain Conflict

It's My Birthday and Unfortunately My House Remembers My Ex

Dear Diary,

Today is my birthday.

Finally.

A day entirely about me.

As opposed to the other 364 days, which are also extensively about me but lack cake.

I woke this morning feeling optimistic.

New year.

New chapter.

New beginnings.

Then I opened my eyes.

And saw the curtains.

She chose the curtains.

Fuck.

7:04 AM - The Bedroom Has Betrayed Me

I rolled over.

Her side of the bed.

Not her side anymore, obviously.

My bed.

My house.

My pillows.

My emotional support mattress.

Still, I briefly remembered her sleeping there.

Annoying.

So I went downstairs.

Big mistake.

7:18 AM - The Kitchen

She chose the coffee machine.

I made coffee with it.

This felt like losing.

I considered throwing it away.

Then remembered how much it cost.

I have principles.

But I also have a perfectly functioning espresso machine.

I drank the coffee aggressively.

7:31 AM - The Mug

She bought the mug.

Why is she everywhere?

This woman hasn't lived here for ages and somehow still controls ceramics.

I selected another mug.

Also hers.

Third mug.

Hers.

Apparently I contributed nothing to the crockery during the relationship.

This feels unlikely.

I must speak to Ilka.

8:02 AM - The Sofa Incident

Sat on the sofa.

Immediately remembered we chose it together.

Got up.

Sat in the chair.

She chose the chair.

Stood.

She chose the rug.

Looked at the wall.

She chose the artwork.

Looked at the floor.

She chose that too.

I am beginning to suspect I lived in this house for years without making a single interior-design decision.

This cannot be correct.

I am extremely decisive.

Ask anyone.

Preferably nobody I've dated.

8:47 AM - The Great Purge

I have decided to remove everything that reminds me of her.

Simple.

I started making a list.

• sofa

• chairs

• dining table

• lamps

• bedding

• towels

• coffee machine

• plates

• glasses

• artwork

• plants

• approximately 83 percent of the kitchen

• one suspiciously attractive storage basket

Then I looked at the house.

Apparently the easiest solution would be demolition.

9:26 AM - The Garden

Went outside for emotional relief.

She chose all the garden furniture.

Went back inside.

9:41 AM - The Bathroom

Her shampoo is obviously long gone.

Excellent.

Progress.

Unfortunately, she chose the towels.

And the mirror.

I looked into it.

Technically she chose me once too.

This has become existential.

10:15 AM - Birthday Messages

My phone started buzzing.

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday!

Wonderful.

Then someone wrote:

"Hope you're having a peaceful day."

Unnecessary.

Why would they specifically mention peace?

Do they know something?

Is she talking to people?

Screenshot.

Save.

Possible exhibit.

11:03 AM - I Have Completely Moved On

I want to reiterate that I do not miss my ex.

I simply miss:

• the family

• the routines

• the house when she lived here

• the things she organised

• the dinners she cooked

• the way she looked after me

• the way I never picked up a thing and she cared for me and my kids

• the way she would do her workout in her sexy workout clothes

• the things she bought

• the things she remembered

• the atmosphere

• someone knowing where the batteries are

This is completely different.

I don't miss her.

I just miss approximately everything that existed when she was here.

Important distinction.

11:42 AM - Where Are the Batteries?

Seriously.

Where the fuck are the batteries?

12:06 PM - Found Them

She labelled the drawer.

Unbelievable.

Even from beyond the relationship she continues controlling household infrastructure.

1:00 PM - Birthday Lunch

I decided to cook myself something nice.

Opened the cupboard.

She organised it.

Opened another cupboard.

Also organised.

Found a spice.

Her handwriting on the label.

Closed kitchen.

Ordered food.

2:14 PM - A Difficult Discovery

The delivery driver wished me happy birthday.

Nice man.

For approximately seven seconds I felt genuine uncomplicated happiness.

Then I remembered my ex probably also had a birthday recently.

Ruined.

2:47 PM - Birthday Reflection

Apparently birthdays are a time to reflect on your life.

So I reflected.

Career: successful.

House: mine.

Finances: excellent.

Relationships:

Let's skip that section.

Parenting: Father of the Century.

Self-awareness:

Next question.

3:30 PM - The House Is Clearly Manipulating Me

Every room contains something connected to her.

This cannot be accidental.

I suspect long-term planning.

Years ago she deliberately purchased household objects knowing that one day we might separate and I would be forced to encounter a decorative lamp on my birthday.

That's the kind of psychological warfare nobody discusses.

Very sophisticated.

Possibly coercive control.

I should tell CPS.

4:08 PM - The Photograph Problem

Found an old photograph.

We looked happy.

Obviously photographs cannot be trusted.

A photograph captures approximately 1/250th of a second.

Legally meaningless.

Deleted.

Then recovered it from Recently Deleted to examine it for context.

Then deleted it again.

Then recovered it again because I accidentally zoomed incorrectly.

Completely over her.

5:12 PM - Maybe I Should Redecorate

Yes.

Fresh start.

New furniture.

New artwork.

New plates.

New towels.

New everything.

I started browsing online.

Unfortunately, I kept thinking:

She would hate that.

Which made me want to buy it.

Then:

She would actually like that.

Absolutely not.

Then:

She would say that's overpriced.

HOW IS SHE STILL PARTICIPATING IN SHOPPING?

Closed laptop.

6:03 PM - My Birthday Dinner

Friends arrived.

Someone sat in her old chair.

I noticed immediately.

Not because I care.

It's just geographically significant.

Another friend complimented the kitchen

I said:

"Thanks."

Then remembered she chose it.

I corrected myself:

"It's complicated."

Nobody asked further questions.

Good friends.

7:34 PM - The Cake

They brought cake.

Excellent.

Someone asked me to make a wish.

I closed my eyes.

Peace.

Happiness.

Health.

A good relationship with my child.

A fulfilling future.

Then somewhere deep inside my brain:

I hope she's miserable.

FOR FUCK'S SAKE.

Restart birthday wish.

Apparently you only get one.

Typical.

8:46 PM - Relationship Advice

A friend suggested that perhaps this year I should focus on letting go.

I explained that I have let go.

He looked around the house.

Then at me.

Then at the folder on my desk labelled:

EX - CURRENT ISSUES

I moved the folder.

Very judgemental atmosphere tonight.

9:38 PM - The Ultimate Betrayal

Everyone left.

I loaded the dishwasher.

She bought the dishwasher.

At this point I genuinely laughed.

Then the dishwasher beeped.

Exactly the same fucking beep it made when she lived here.

I don't know why this offended me.

But it did.

10:22 PM - Birthday Gratitude

Before bed, I decided to list five things I'm grateful for.

1. My money.

2. My wealth.

3. My career.

4. My home.

5. My freedom.

Looked around my home.

Curtains.

Sofa.

Lamp.

Rug.

Table.

Coffee machine.

Storage basket.

Fucking storage basket.

Fine.

Sixth thing:

6. That woman had excellent taste.

I will deny writing this.

11:14 PM - Final Birthday Thoughts

Another year older.

Another year wiser.

Another year completely over my ex.

She no longer occupies my home.

She merely occupies:

• the furniture

• the kitchen

• the garden

• the photographs

• the labelled battery drawer

• several administrative folders

• occasional conversations with my lawyer

• and, apparently, an absolutely unacceptable percentage of my brain.

But tomorrow is a new day.

Tomorrow I will stop thinking about her completely.

Right after I replace the mug.

And the curtains.

And the sofa.

And the rug.

And the coffee machine.

And possibly the house.

Happy Birthday to me.

Captain Conflict

Emotionally Detached Homeowner
Father of the Century
Victim of Aggressive Interior Decorating
Currently Seeking a Woman Who Hates Storage Baskets

P.S. I found another mug.

Hers.

P.P.S. HOW MANY FUCKING MUGS DID THIS WOMAN BUY?

P.P.P.S. I don't care.