Please put your right hand on The Bible,
And your left hand in the air…
This is for real.
I guess I solemnly swear, to tell the truth…the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
So help me Goddess.
Then she says, “Jennifer Erika Weintraub, please sign on the dotted line.”
Dotted line? Ummm, lady. That line is not dotted. Can you see that line? Are you blind, or drunk? C’mon. Do you need glasses…that there line is SOLID. It’s fucking solid, and black…and it’s not even close to dotted you nut job. It is as solid as my marriage should have been, but it wasn’t. It was broken and sad, and fucking miserable. Ok, it wasn’t that bad. But now, its over. Done. Kaput. Finito. I feel like she wanted to cheer. Sign on the dotted line…HOORAY! And then the stamp. The “notification”. The seal of approval that my marriage is null and void. Just like the feeling left in my soul. I was void of all emotion, as the clock hit 11:56 am on March 11th, I was officially Happily Divorced.
I love to use that phrase. I don’t know if I actually made it up, or not. But I am claiming it. Its mine, bitches. Don’t take it. I am going to be using it for my book title. I laugh when I say it. Book. Like who would even buy it. But it’s so good, right? I mean divorce is starting to be the norm around here. Shit, they’re dropping like flies. Do y’all know how many emails I get a day from women, and men…wanting advice? They want to know how Mark and I make it look so easy. I chuckle. And then I write them back, and I say...it’s all smoke and mirrors. Ha. One day at a time. And every time I lose my shit, I remember what’s important…MY KIDS. Today, I sat there listening to my attorney tell me that I was the best female client he ever had, because I was so agreeable. And that every man would LOVE to be going through a divorce with me. I felt good, and bad. Exactly what the hell does that mean? So, I’m being totally and completely taken advantage of? Jesus. No! It means that I am putting my KIDS before myself. And Mark is doing the same. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again…divorce doesn’t have to be messy. Or ugly. Or nasty. And attorneys don’t have to be assholes. You don’t have to fight about who gets the kids on Flag Day. Or argue over that stupid painting that neither of you really want anyhoo. It’s only money. And shit. You have to look in the mirror each and everyday, and be proud of the choices you made…AFTER you decided to separate.
So, I signed the damn thing. Said my thank-you’s. And I left.
And then I texted Mark. And he texted back….”Remember this day. March 11, 2015. Oh. And don’t spend the next 2 hours sobbing in your car”. Jeez. He thinks he knows me so well. Like I would ever cry in my car for TWO hours. As a matter of fact, I didn’t cry at all. Really, I didn’t! I was dying for a cigarette. Or a Dunkin’ Donut. I really, really wanted a damn Dunkin Donut. No better time to eat my emotions. But instead, I called my Mom.
And then I texted Mr. Big-ish in DC. And ya know what I said?
I’m all yours…I signed on the solid line. ;)