The planet Divorce is a nasty place. It sometimes feels like it has a population of one. The gravity is so forceful here that the soaring of hearts is problematic. There are frequent toxic clouds of noxious emotions, and it rains a lot. It's expensive to live here. And lonely.
So come out. Let me see your face--or a generic silhouette. Click that little follow button, please. Leave a comment, and by all means, let me know if you blog about divorce so I can link to it.
Unless of course you are the Queen of Lurk-y-ness, that vile minion of the Little Missus who reads what I write and then reports back to her so the Little Missus herself can remain isolated in that fantasy world, Domestic Bliss.
4 comments:
I'm so not a lurker. I challenge the minion of the Little Missus to a duel, actually.
Like the Elizabeth above, I am no lurker either.
I would love to have a few words with the vile Little Missus herself, forget the minion.
I'd like to speak directly to the woman who cheated with your husband, helped to breakup your marriage, and then had a ridiculously large wedding to celebrate their love.
A woman who probably feels all warm and safe living in your old house with your ex-husband, a man who first threw his integrity out the window when he lied and cheated, and now does it with his miserly grip on money.
What a nasty situation she is in now and I wonder if she has to spy on you to distract herself from seeing the real truth of her own life, that she has knowingly chosen such a man to be the father of her children, to model all the good behaviors one hopes their children will learn, a man who can treat you after all of your time and shared history, with such contempt.
He's probably rewritten his history with you in telling it to her so that now she believes that she's really his " soulmate " and everything he'd every dreamed of in a wife and partner and the mother of his son and future children.
She must watch what he continues to do to you and see the injustice in it. The facts are there. I wonder if she thinks she's so special that your struggle could never be hers.
I would tell her that there is an honorable way to end a marriage, and that a man with integrity and compassion would have done it differently and with more fairness.
That's what I would tell her, but I'll bet on some level she already knows that and now wishes she didn't.
HI there. I guess I'm a lurker, not exactly sure the definition. I just really enjoy your writing and have read each of your blogs.
Pam from South Carolina
I am not a lurker and you know how I feel.
What truly continues to astound me is the stupidity of the women who become trophy wives. So, the man they married is a dishonest, deceitful, miserable example of a breathing parasite who got to where he may be now thanks to the sacrifices of his former wife, after all he will never speak about who put him through law school, who pledged body and soul and became the mother of his children while he repaid all that with betrayal upon betrayal, with mendacity and miserly behavior. A true example of honesty, decency and honor. That is her husband now.
Has it ever occurred to her that she is next? Having a child is her insurance, the longer she lasts there, the longer she becomes vested. If the past is prologue I wish to be a fly on the wall when he finds out that he may be too old for her, he may be nothing else than the ticket to Neiman Marcus, Saks, Rodeo Drive and all the plated, worthless things she may need in order to ignore the reality that may be lurking already as he gets older and she may have to come to terms with the Faustian agreement that she got into.
Trophy wives are the victims not of love misplaced but of planned greed. They opened the door to the cage and he walks in but guess who is already in there, unable to get out of it because by marrying her guess who now holds the key to their freedom? What would they do once they realize the man they "love" is too old, too boring, too "familiar" to be attractive any more? They deserve each other in the most ideally poetic and just way.
I wonder what people like him think on their deathbed? What consumes their fears more than to truly know what they hope no one else could suspect: who and what they truly are.
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