That time I got divorced

Yes. I used to live here. Looks glorious. It wasn’t.

So. He came home. Two days after Valentine’s Day. My favorites, pink tulips, had been delivered the day before.

Too little, too late.

I was leaned back in the middle of the tan sectional sofa. Waiting.

He walked in. Took one look.

You’re leaving me, aren’t you?
Yes.Yes. Yes I am.

He turned square on his heel and walked out, not to return until the next day.

By then? I had started packing.

That was my first divorce. *(and hopefully my last. Revised, 8/26@7:09pm)


No one ever takes a vow, promising lifelong love, lightly.

Well, OK. MOST people don’t, and I certainly didn’t. I meant what I said and I said what I meant. Him. Me. Forever.

I was 21.

So you can sort of guess where this is going.

Twenty-one is verrrrry different from 31.

West Virginia, where he was raised, and where we lived, was verrrry different from New York and Rhode Island, where I’d been raised. Apples and Legos, different.

I wanted to fit in and Ohhhh how I TRIED to fit in. Until.

My brother lost his PCA and needed someone and OF COURSE I said? Yes! I’ll be there. And I was. I did. He was my brother. My best friend. And he was in need.

So away I went; moved in. Took care of him. I Trusted my husband. Why wouldn’t I? Bruce and I were newlyweds. He had met my brother and knew Scott’s situation. He got it.

Except that night. That night he went to the hillbilly club and agreed to dance with some fat hillbilly chick and they kissed and I think I woke in the night and knew. KNEW.


The confrontation was by mail. He admitted it. And blamed me. And i was like; oh yeah ok asshole.

And I went home a few weeks later. It was never the same.

The man who portended to be so honorable? So straight? So forthcoming? Wasn’t. He was, in fact, a shitbag. Like most of the men I’d known in my life.

Oh haii I’ma man and my wife is out of town and yessss I’d like to fuck you and my wife is outta town so fuck her. She should be here with me.

I wasn’t. I was 609 miles alway taking care of my brother; my one true love. Because without me? He’d be subjected to a hospital and no. No. No. No.


I’ll write more, later. But what I want y’all to know? Is that sometimes men lie. Good men. Honorable men. Men you think would never lie.

Men lie. They do.

So protect yourselves. Please.