Funny what sticks out. In the morning my hair looks like Bingo the clown. Well not flaming red, but three isometric pyramids springing from my skull. Yup. If my personality doesn't drive the women away, that's sure to do it. Hey, I'm just happy to have a full head of hair. All else is gravy I can use to slick my mane back down. Ok, I don't use gravy. A good shower and shampoo usually do the trick...As usual, I'm already off target. It seems that the one thing that never jut's out is my point.
I read an article in the paper this morning. Nivea is divorcing her husband. If you're like me, you're going "Who?" Well, Nivea is a hip hop artist. I guess she was up for a Grammy in 2003...I wouldn't know, I think the Dangerous Minds soundtrack was as close to hip hop as I ever got.
Anyway, in her press release, Nivea said, "I don't feel it is fair for neither of us, especially him, to continue this never-ending battle of the minds that he and I have continued for long enough. I want nothing more than for him and I to be happy. His happiness is all I want, for I could never repay him for what he has endured by being my friend, partner, and husband. "
I thought that was sweet. Call me a sucker for well tied bows and happy sentiment. I wished MyUnwife and I had done the same thing. Stood out on our lawn and given a statement to our neighbors about how this day of togetherness had reached it's sunset. Timed sprinklers raining down on us, baptizing us in our new life. Chipmunks and squirrels singing and dancing, drawing this time to a close. Oh, and confetti! There has to be blue and pink confetti! Then again I wished a lot of things for us.
Nivea's comment got me thinking about friendship. Would we ever reach that? I replay our separating. I know I've talked about the specifics so much that you can recite it back like Rocky Horror dialogue. "Damnit-Janet…"
No, I'm not saying that. I'm just saying I've become more familiar with the landscape of our divorce that the historical geography of our marriage. I've told you the words that shook my world, but what deep buried fissures moved our fault apart? I mean what really happened? Here's a dramatization of MyUnwife announcing her intent, without the drama, stripped down to the rock core. MyUnwife will be played by Zooey Deschanel; I liked her in Hitchhiker's Guide, what can I say? Skeet Ulrich will take me. She liked him. I have no idea why, but for her, I think he can do this one. Ok? Here goes:
MyUnwife: "I'm leaving."
Me: "okay."
Scene.
If you read between the lines, you find that that wasn't the beginning of the end, that was the end. Where was that space in-between? We probably both have lists with arrows and photos of times we "tried" pinned to our walls, but all those were recorded posthumously in pride ink. Ways to say "See?" Oh, that's not to say we didn't try, but I think most of those efforts were knee-jerk reflexes anyway.
So how do people who grew so distant in marriage become friends afterwards? We don't have kids tying us together. We don't even have a cool knitting club. What happened to all the things the brought us together? They're just lost in the smoke and rubble. No wonder we couldn't stay together.
I hear about couples that become good friends after divorce, I wouldn't mind being friends, but what's left to talk about? "So how about that divorce?" The times we've tried talking since are always awkward. She's sullen, I'm overcompensating. I try to be light, but It's like going on a first date with a girl whose pet koala was just run over by a eucalyptus truck. You try to be upbeat, but the irony is so thick. What do you talk about?
Sometimes when the earth stops moving you just have to scrape the koala off the road and move on. That's my point. That's the bone jutting from my compound wound.
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