"In the meantime..."-Spacehog

Whew!

Well now, that day is over.

Thank God.

I always liked birthdays, not this year. I think I can point to this whole "divorcing limbo" thing as my killjoy tornado. My folks didn't even call me. I mean they emailed me, and really that's fine, but every year in the past, I got a call. They even sang! There was no singing this birthday. Maybe my tornado had a silver lining… NO! I'm whining now, I must continue, I will not be happy!

I can't blame my folks, If they call, what are they going to say? "So Rob, how's that axe in your back?" Even worse, what if they get her on the phone? "So, Rob's wife, how's it feel to be a..?" No, there's nothing awkward about that.

What can I do? I can't throw her out; I really would like to see things work out. On the other hand, Her subtle clues lead me to believe there isn't any hope. I'm on a balance beam without coordination and she's throwing tomatoes. I mean, my brain and heart are battling this one out:

Brain: "Dude, this ain't gonna happen."

Heart: "Well, maybe…"

Brain: drawing on a cigarette. Yeah, my brain smokes. I don't. Neither does my heart: it smolders. "Who was the last person she held a grudge against?"

Heart: "Person or corperation?"

Brain: "Either one…take your pick."

Heart: "Well, That one friend of hers."

Brain: "And When was the last time she spoke to her?"

Heart: "You're the one with all the memory, but I think right after the friend pissed her off."

Brain: Floating on neuron stimuli. Yeah, I can show that. We're all adults. "And has the friend tried to make contact?"

Heart: "Yeah, she even apologized."

Brain: "See a pattern here? Something familiar?" Glowers with green glow.

Heart: "Yeah, but she talks to us, at least about fluff…"

Brain: "You're hopeless!"

Heart: Pumping with hope. "No, Hope-Full!"

Brain: "Yeah whatever!"

They'll go at it for hours, and when I'm sitting alone doing my work, they've got plenty of time.

The brain is right, but I still want to give her every opportunity until she's gone. In the meantime, my life's on hold. I want to do things, but I can't because of her. I thought about joining the church I've been attending, really it's no more than going to the pastor and whispering the sacred rites in his ear: I need a transfer. He'll wave me back, and that's it; I'm a member. But I feel awkward. My wife doesn't go to church, and here I am in the middle of a divorce, what am I supposed to do, what kind of example am I setting? "Look at me! I know you guys are all big on this marriage thing, but the wife and I have decided it's not for us. Vows? What is forever really..?

I know, it's ridiculous. I'm not there to set an example, I'm just as flawed and failed as the next guy. That's the basis for my faith. But there's such stigma. I have to wear the scarlet "D" and walk the aisles while children egg me. No, I think for now I can attend as a perpetual visitor. I get all the perks without the name tag. No, I'm kidding, we don’t wear name tags. I could put in a really cool joke here, but I feel like I'm on a slippery slope with God anyway, I better not. He's not too keen on divorce. I'll join after it's over; It'll save the whole "Why isn't your wife coming?" conversation.

So, I thanked MyWife for the gift certificate when she came home. Do you know what she said? She said, "I knew you'd need to buy some stuff when I moved out."

Brain: "See? I told you."

Heart: Shruggging his valves, "Maybe she didn't know what to say. Maybe it was a joke."

Brain: Wishing for arms to slap with, "Shut up."

I still can't believe she didn't give me a real card or something. It's like she thought it was too awkward to wish me a happy birthday.

It reminded me of a show on TV a few years ago called Significant Others. It was about couples going through marriage counseling. We used to joke about the couples because they were so stupid. No the irony hasn't escaped me.

BUT ANYWAY…There was this one couple, they didn't talk to each other. They're sitting in the counselor's office, trying to explain their ways of working through the interaction issue and the wife say's "We communicate through Post-Its on the refrigerator." It was funny then; I'm not laughing anymore.

So I've tripped into the realm of my 39th year with a smelly albatross of divorce around my neck. What can I do? Nothing really, just try to keep my balance until I fall or she falls away.

Brain: "You're using the Albatross again? How often are you going to beat that dead metaphor?

Heart: "I like it. It shows culture, heart, concer—"

Brain: "Laziness?"

Heart: bloats with pride "maybe, but you're the brain. You're in charge of metaphors. That means you're to blam—"

Brain: Fires off on impulse "Shut up."

Until then I'll watch my psyche split.