“I look at divorce this way: it’s better to have loved and lost, then to live with that psycho for the rest of my life.”
I always thought the D-word was the worst infliction any person could experience. After ten-years of marriage (in a fifteen-year relationship), I realize that it’s NOT the D-word that is awful … it’s the abrasive approach of your ex-spouse that makes it a whirlwind of shit. Of course, there’s a variety of snarky things I could say – but, I wont. Instead I’ll filter them out (in a direct words that is) and put them in with witty statements instead. Yessss!
The enlightenment of my marriage and divorce has rocked my world. I never would have dreamed that I, Ms.Introvert who never says anything to anyone would find such bliss in being an asshole. Of course I didn’t start off as an asshole. I was giving, polite, tried to be nice and lady-like … but, than he made our children his second priority in life and it was game on. I have spent my fair share of time considering the next chapter of my life and how I am going to use up all this free time. Time I spent prior worrying about Donkey — is free … and here is what I do with it …. think about what the fuck I will do with the little bit of “together” crap. That IS where I lucked out — we don’t have martial assets.
The Rings. What the F*&k am I supposed to do with them? I have put a lot of thought into this. Should I keep them to lovingly pass onto my children? What in the hell do they want them for? I think I have decided. I am going to pawn them off to buy new boobs. It only sounds fair.
The House. Lets fight over this. We have to fight over something, right? I mean it’s not like it wasn’t built in 1844 with a decreasing value as each hour passes, creaky wooden floors, post-dated everything and gorilla size spiders taking up space in the damp basement. We could be adults and split it 50/50. Like I buy him out or he buys me out … something MATURE, right? No. Fuck that sh^t – it’s balls to the wall. You want half? I will hire some asshole to come in and split this shit right down the middle. I would prefer the half with the kitchen because I can’t live without coffee. Touche!
I could write a sappy post. One where I just don’t understand why things didn’t work out and how it all had to end this way. But, I’m not like that. I could include how sad I am that Donkey is no longer here to raise my blood pressure sky high or increase my anxiety to the point of earth shattering fits. Or I could say … “Gee, I am wounded by all of this.” Than proceed to take up space in my bed sobbing like a banshee.
But, that’s NOT me. I am my father’s daughter. The one who says “Eh, go fu^k yourself.” I don’t place blame – I don’t waste my breath – I don’t fight. Instead I put all my attention towards my children who matter, make bigger plans for the future, paint my nails, read a book, take a walk with my dogs, contemplate what size boobs I’m going to get and assure that my coffee pot is in a safe place for when the demo team shows up to split this wooden box in half.