This summer I went home to Chautauqua, New York and did something I have not done since I left high school. I sat down with an old high school friend. We didn’t have much time, but we made the most of it. We talked about her 10 year relationship with her high school sweetheart and its bitter end. We talked about my military ex and his countless female conquests during our marriage. And then we talked about all of our high school friends who were married in their 20′s and divorced by their 30′s. Stories of betrayal, abuse, belittlement and incompatibility. Stories of desperate struggles to make things work. And then came the stories of what was new and what was working. Re-marriages, new loves, life long goals achieved, moves made, self-realizations and better relationships.

A select few of our classmates had married and stayed married and were *gasp* happily married. But, the majority of us had passed through the dark gates of divorce and everyone had come out stronger. Looking into the face of my childhood friend and hearing all the tales of the people I’ve known forever, the truth hit me. A divorce or major breakup is just a step on the road to getting it right.

Our talk also reminded me of a movie I saw recently called Timer. Set in the future, humans have implants that beep, ding or gong the moment they meet their “true love.” Some of the timers go off when they are 16 . . . some at 50. Either way, the timer signals the person has met their perfect match. Since we are not so gadget equipped, we humans so inadequately prepared, are forced to take our chances. Chances that will often turn out to be mistakes. Luckily, we also have the chance to make things right. Not only in Love, but in every decision we make in Life. That is the test of Life and the beauty of being human.

We will all endure heartbreak, we will all endure loss – most of us will struggle with divorce. We will all come through these trials better than before. And, that is a reason for celebration.

All aglow, I sat once again with my friend Rachel and inquired, rather slyly, “Rachel, were you trying to set me up?”

“No,” she replied rather forcefully, “He’s Gay!”

“He’s . . . what?”

Suddenly, my entire world of illusions crashed down around me. I was more than a bit crestfallen. I surely had not seen this one coming. Not at all. “But, but . . . .” I stammered, “We were, I mean, I, I envisioned our future together.” Laugh all you want, Dear Reader, but let me tell you that I was more than a little upset. It actually ruined my whole night.

Now me and my fantasy boyfriend, then husband, father of my beautiful children were getting a fantasy divorce. While I fantasy cursed at the effer. I mean did he really have to wait until after we’d been married for so long, after we had raised two gorgeous children to tell me that he was gay! Gay – all this time?? And, then to have me find out from a friend.

Next time, I suppose I’ll try to moderate my fantasy life a bit ~ ya know, just to keep it a bit more in line with reality. I mean, he did order a cosmo.

I’m curious, do other people who have been divorced have similar dreams? I’m talking eleven year. E-lev-En years and I’m still having this dream. The truth is, that I did decide this in real life and am still deciding it over and over. I don’t want to be in a relationship with anybody who isn’t my best friend. Would love to hear from you people out there in the world. Has anyone had this experience?

I’m excited, get excited with me!!!

I’ve been following a new writer at Divorcefromdayone.blogspot.com – where she has chronicled every single day since her and her husband split. I love following her journey and being a witness to her healing process – and it doesn’t hurt that she’s funny!! And, now she’s planning her own Divorce Shower. I hope she’ll let me help!

http://divorcefromdayone.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-34-youre-invited.html

Well, eleven years later and I am indeed growing old-er alone. But, a woman worrying about getting laid is like a bum worrying about falling on hard luck. Sex if you want it is in steady supply, just like the bum and his hard luck, it’s pretty easy for a girl to find a hard . . . well, you get the point.

But, I dated and still I date. I’ve dated alcoholics and pot smokers, people who had yachts and people who lived in their mothers’ basements. Mechanics and film makers, chefs and artists, men in the stock market and men who worked at Target. Men that were crude, boring, rude, bad tippers, lacking imagination, and some with no creativity. I’ve dated hairy men and bald men, tall men and short men, skinny men and fat men. I’ve dated lots and lots and lots of men I didn’t like. I’ve also dated a very small handful that didn’t like me when I liked them. These are the ones I lovingly refer to as the Doucheknockers and Fat Bastards.

I like the word doucheknocker. Actually any word starting with douche is fine by me. douchenozzle, douchenugget, or just plain ol’ doucher. These words remind me of the one and only time that I actually liked my ex-father-in-law. This one and only time, a commercial depicted a mother and daughter walking through the rain and talking about how they just didn’t feel so fresh sometimes. The commercial was for Massengil douche and my ex-father-in-law astutely pointed out that they ought to just stand on their heads in the rain. He was a giant Doucher.

Anyway, the men (I can count them on one hand, minus my thumb) I’ve liked in all these 11 years – every single one of them (all four) haven’t like me back. Which makes me wonder a lot of things, mostly about “why?” Why wouldn’t you like me, I mean, I’m fan-freakin-tastic. I think it has something to do with men having some kind of “oh shit, she likes me radar.” At which point, they run away. Or sometimes, I wonder if they didn’t like my sense of enthusiasm about life, or if I was too imaginative. At this point in my inner dialogue, I always throw the Doucheknockers and Fat Bastards the middle finger and shout, “screw off.” Because, these are qualities that I truly admire about myself and if they don’t like them, then shit, I don’t want them in my life.

The truth is, I’m happier now with my life at 36 then I ever was when I was at 24 and married. I love every aspect of my life. Sometimes I wish that I had someone to share it with. Or someone who would open the refrigerator to find the cheese is moldy and say “Hey, the Cheese is moldy.” So I could say, “No, that’s not mold, that’s just the cheese growing more cheese.” You know, little things like that. But, mostly, its a “it would be nice,” but not a “must have.” But, I’m supposed to try right. I’m supposed to try for love. I’m not supposed to give in to the idea of sitting on the porch in gauzy nightgowns and rocking chairs with my close girlfriends drinking lemonade when we’re 80. Hmmm?

So, I’ve tried everything to find a man that I like who likes me back. I’ve gone to the hippy folk-life festival. I joined a cycling club (mmmm cyclists – there’s nothing in the world that will make you pedal faster than following a nice set of spandexed man buns.) I tried E-Harmony and Match.com. I filled out all those dull questionnaires. I read, “The Rules.” I watched, “He’s Just Not that Into You.” I’ve tried to talk myself around the fact that a bunch of Douchers and Fatties didn’t like me for some god-knows what reason. At which point I have to say, Jesus, I’d just rather be single. Pour me a glass of lemonade. Amen.

SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT – read no further if you haven’t seen New Moon.

But then, I see New Moon (now here’ s where you get to wonder if there’s something wrong with ME) in the theaters no less, and I am baffled as Bella initially rejects Jacob, but as soon as she finds out that he is, gasp, a werewolf, who admits that he could potentially kill her in a fit of rage, Bella Swan swoons right into his impeccably sculpted arms.  Oh my God.  What is up with this girl?  Then she says to him, “I won’t ever let you get angry with me, because every day I’ll tell you how special you are.”  Uh- huh.  Here she goes again with the “let me help you with your little werewolf problem.”  And, to top it off, Jacob is all the more interested in her because she has dangerous and possibly lethal connections to his sworn enemies.

So here’s the Wikipedia definition of Codependence:

Codependency or Codependence describes a pattern of detrimental behavioral interactions within a dysfunctional relationship, most commonly a relationship with an alcohol or drug abuser.^[1] In general, the codependent is understood to be a person who perpetuates the addiction or pathological condition of someone close to them in a way that hampers recovery. This can be done through direct control over the dependent, by making excuses for their dysfunctional behavior, or by blunting negative consequences. These actions are described as enabling.

Of course, technically the characters are monsters who have no control over “what they are.”  Even though, I would argue that Bella enables Edward’s Bloodthirst simply by hanging around, that and getting bloody all the time.  The point is that in real life, the type of relationship modeled by Bella with both Edward and Jacob would be extremely unhealthy.

Which leads to my next question, after Bella is a vampire and has come to terms with her weird dependence issues, what kind of Divorce Shower would she like?  I happen to have a few ideas.

This is an awesome article about women having divorce showers and divorce parties.

http://www.milkwood.org/karla/divorce.html

Check it out.  It illuminates the ways in which divorce parties are helpful and provide a sense of closure and community.  Along with replacing some of the things “lost in the divorce.”

The basic cake. . . .

But wait. . . .

oops

And, finally . . . The His and Hers cake – which did not turn out exactly as I had hoped, but it may provide some inspiration for you – our dear lovely reader.

And so there you have it.  Totally palatable therapy.  Catharsis that tastes good.  And Dessert with a sense of humor.

How I got through (and over) my divorce.