Somewhere in Pennsylvania lives my ex-husband. Or my ex-once upon a time sort of Husband. For privacy's sake, let's call him Harold. (Are ya' reading Harold?)
Harold and and I (or, Harold and Maude) loved each other very much. "Stupid for each other' was the chosen phrase. They never planned to and actually planned not to see one another every day, but neither could get through the day without simply wanting the company of the other. They stayed up all night talking. They sat around all day talking. They shared and shared and shared. And had some kinky, wonderful sex with fabulous cuddling after.
After two years of this Maude decided they should move in together- or, Harold should move in with Maude who had her own place. (Maude didn't know herself as well as she thought.) Harold eventually crossed to Maude's fence post and brought his belongings with him. (Harold never saw it coming. Unfortunately, neither did Maude.)
The trouble started on Day... One. And it was probably over crumbs. Harold's. On Maude's counter. Note I didn't say Harold's counter. It was never Harold's counter.
Maude went a little crazy. Maude is obsessive compulsive. Harold is obsessive compulsive. Harold and Maude continued to talk, and have sex with cuddling, and wrestle each other to the floor with glee only with a lot more sighing and eye rolling and fights that ended with one of them driving away- in a trail of burned rubber.
Eventually, they redivided their things and Maude moved very far away and after a long, long time got engaged to somebody else.
Maude and Harold were never really married and so never really divorced, but they feel in their hearts they were both.
And they still love each other, in a different way now, and talk for hours-only now the conversations are peppered with other memories; Separate Rooms! -Hooooonneeeeeeeee! -Get your chin hairs out of my clean trash can! - Get your underwear clothes line out of the kitchen! You were snoring so I rolled you off the bed!