Friday, August 13, 2010


While I've never exactly entertained the idea of divorce as a reality in my world, I have of course given it a passing thought - usually along the lines of what I would and would not do should I or a friend have to deal with it. For example, I like to think I could be Jennifer Aniston reasonable & classy and not Anne Heche batshit crazy. It seems to me that because I once obviously loved this man I married, I could find it relatively easy ['relatively' meaning compared to choosing which child to save from Nazis] to be at least cordial to him. I even thought, during my fleeting very-special-Lifetime-production moments of 'what if,' maybe we could just be friends (who once upon a time happened to create children together via very naughty sex).

Now that I have had to live through the nightmare of my best friend's divorce, my beliefs are shifting. In the beginning, when we thought her now-ex was not completely insane, we tried hearing both sides; I employed my Teacher Attitude, the one where I listen intently, nod, and attempt a nonjudgmental face while someone weaves a story smelling strongly of bullshit explains a situation. But the bullshit was overwhelming and while I believe myself to be relatively tactful ['relatively' meaning I probably won't throw bricks through windows], I cannot abide nonsense. And in the past twelve months, the nonsense has grown to epic proportions. This is where it has dawned on me that I would probably be more in line with the embittered, vindictive, nearly hysterical women. I frequently want to scream, hurl objects, even set stuff on fire because of my friend's ex's behavior. Stu shudders to think what I might do if ever, God in all His glory forbid, he were to divorce me.

But the catch is if I draw attention to the ex's stupidity flawed actions - even in a tactful way - the man punishes my best friend through various unpleasant interactions (mostly yelling or making her life miserable by whimsical change of schedule, sometimes throwing or slamming things,). On the one hand, it is exciting that he feels so threatened by me that he won't approach me or even send an e-mail with his complaints (this love of instilling fear in people must be the Leo part of my birthdate). But certainly in the end, I do not want my friend to suffer and so I bite my tongue and try not rolling my eyes or flipping him off whenever I see him. I do, however, have dreams wherein I pummel him mercilessly.

Besides having lost what I thought was a good friend, there are other issues with this guy turning into a jackass. Things we did together as a group and things we mutually enjoyed are now tainted. I don't want to listen to Billy Joel anymore because Jackass often sang his songs (luckily my will is strong for sticking with John Mayer since I actually went to his concert with my best friend & Jackass). When my kids ask about going back to Lincoln City, I think of Jackass and his relentless badgering of my best friend there last summer, before he moved out of their house. I won't even look in the direction of a particular couple of restaurants in our town because we went to them (and seemingly had fun) with Jackass once upon a time.

Tonight I am hosting a Divorce Debauchery Party for my best friend. We're getting massages, meeting friends for Happy Hour dinner, having a For Your Pleasure party in our hotel room, going to a drag show. All good, relatively clean ['relatively' meaning I will carry hand sanitizer in my purse next to the roll of singles] fun in the name of A New Life. Without jackasses. Or, for what it's worth, Billy Joel.