Rob Cleans His Shorts.

A blog by any other name is my little diary.

Ok, sort of. It's like one of those without the cute unicorn cover and the flimsy clasp pretending to keep things secret.

Nope, when it comes to blogs, there are no secrets. Hairy butts, fuzzy navels, and ex wives. All dirty laundry flapping in the wind.

Why not clean laundry? Why not all the nice white linens folded in the closet, showing you the Martha Stewart side of Rob's world? Well I suppose that's because there isn't a Martha Stewart side. I can't take life lemons and make anything more elaborate than squished lemons. That's for the Dr. Phil's of the world.

Me, I'm just as dirty, but I smell citrusy fresh.

"…but the fruit of the Rob lemon is impossible to eat…"

Yeah, I'm a little bitter from time to time. I thought that's why I'd take a little time now and mention MyEx.

Where'd everybody go?

No! No! This is nice, I promise. Actually for all of our marital faults, I bear as much of the burden as she does. I will never say "it's all her fault." Ok, I will, but I promise I won't mean it, how's that?

No, for all the things I say were wrong about her and I, there were some things that worked, and I feel I should mention them occasionally. Cuz not everything is dirty.

Only the good things.

NO! But that's something I would have said to her. See the one thing I miss about MyEx is the simplicity of US. See, now in my life, I have friends who I tell things to. I have friends who know my writing, friends who know my love life, and I have friends who know my problems. Very few friends know things outside their compartments. Rob's life is need to know.

Sure, my blog says a lot, but it doesn't say everything. Ask people who know things. They'll tell you. What they won't tell you is everything. Why? Because they don't know it.

MyEx did. Up to the point where she told me she wanted out, she was in. I told her everything I would tell anybody else. And the things I wouldn't. As for the things I might not freely offer, well all she had to do was ask. I'm not sure if she knew that. That's probably something I should have told her, huh?

Ah well, where's the fun in that? Yeah, I know. Still married. Thanks a lot for that little trinket my loving readers. See if I tell you anything else.

You know what else she was good at? Story stuff. Yeah, it's true. Not like she'd make up cool "once upon a time" stuff. That wasn't her forte, although I believe it could have been if she'd wanted it. She didn't. But what she did want is to help my writing.

I'll fault her for many things, from leaving the toilet seat down to nearly burning down the house when she cleaned the oven, but when it came to my writing, she gave me what she could. And she was a great continuity reader. That was where she shined. She knew flow like a salmon knows spawn. No matter how milky the water got, she could always find her way. And if something didn't work, she'd tell me.

There was a freedom in that. There was a freedom in one stop need shopping. Oh she wasn't perfect, and neither were my needs.

"I told you, the rubber sheep was not allowed in bed Rob!"

"Sorry I thought this was a special occasion."

"Sheri Lewis's birthday does not count as special."

"I'm thinking Lambchop would disagree…"

"…"

See? That's what worked. And don't get me wrong. I'm not looking to go back. We took a series of wrong turns and the brought us here, and now I'm who I am with compartmentalized friends. It's fine. I really am happy where and who I am now.

Still, because my blog is rarely pristine unicorns and jaunty princesses (unless that's the intro to a special Tijuana adult "attraction"), I think it's important to say that there were good things in my marriage, and one of them was MyEx. I don't say that often.

Now tomorrow I'll tell you all about the time she ran a Shanghai sweat shop, and what the 6 year old workers used to call her. It made Martha Stewart plaid with jealousy...