divorce

Episode 33: Memopause

Marshall — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 10:52:12 -0400

I am not one to hold a grudge. Okay, I am one to hold a grudge (see Jeffrey, see Jeffrey fucks Super Fan in my very own living room) but in honor of the Jewish Holidays, I had made a plan to get over that. Not to get over the Super Fan fucking, necessarily, but the holding a grudge part. Holding a grudge is not good for the mind or the body or the spirit (I read this somewhere, or perhaps I heard it on Oprah) but with that in mind I set out to embrace the New Year.

Now, as I may have mentioned, I am half Jewish. The Jewish half is actually my father, which technically doesn’t make me Jewish I suppose, but I was raised a nominal Jew (going to temple twice a year, eating borscht) and that was enough for me to pass it on to my children. Jeffrey is Jewish too, and despite my misgivings we joined one of those temples that have too many agents and managers and lawyers who go there to do business (kind of like choosing the right pre-school, choosing the right temple in Los Angeles is serious work) and we would go there pretty much never except for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. I’m not saying I’m proud of how we did things, but I’m not un-proud of it either, it’s just the way it was.

What's your biggest fear or obstacle in getting remarried?

Marshall — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 11:22:44 -0400

* I'm doomed to make the same mistakes all over again * My friends will start a wager on how long this one will last * I'll be too scared to leave if this one doesn't work * He'll either cheat on me or leave me * If this marriage fails, there must be something wrong with me * I have no fears! I'm moving on with confidence

Episode 32: Groupie

Tue, 16 Sep 2008 13:08:52 -0400

As I may have implied, it’s been a long, not so hot summer. And though I won’t get into it now, I needed a bit of cheering up recently which had less to do with Jeffrey and his exploits (more on that later) than it did with me and my not so sordid past. Taking this into consideration, Annabelle, she of the George Hamilton tan and the Eres bikini (thank you rich boyfriend with a house on St. Barts) came by on Saturday night, scooped me out of my Waterworks bathrobe (a fine investment if you want to spend the day in bed with a supersize bag of Fritos) and insisted I accompany her to a party.

Now I may or may not have mentioned that in my tender youth I aspired to be a groupie. I sucked at it actually, because aside from sticking out my thumb to hitchhike now and again, and taking an occasional puff off someone else’s joint, I was pretty tame in my approach to living. I aspired to be the girl who followed the band, and I once did sleep outside the New Haven Coliseum to get tickets to see Bruce Springsteen, but my first concert ever was John Denver and for a hideously long time that set the tone for my entire way of being. By the way, who is “Annie” and why did she get her own song? My guess is she gave Mr. Denver his first Rocky Mountain high.

Still, Annabelle was well aware that for many years I was madly in love with this musician/guitar player who did session work with Dan Fogelberg (yes, I was that predictable) and when I met Jeffrey I have to admit that the fact that he played the drums totally turned me on. (In retrospect, all that incessant banging should have been a clue.) Regardless, I still really dig musicians. Which for anyone under the age of eighteen who is reading right now, is not necessarily to be recommended.

Who do you blame when a husband cheats on his wife?

Marshall — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 12:42:14 -0400

* The husband. Helloooo! The ring, the vows, the family... * The mistress. You just don't double-dip -- ever! * Both equally. It takes two to do the horizontal hula

What are your secret regrets?

Marshall — Tue, 09 Sep 2008 12:12:48 -0400

* I regret leaving my Ex. I want my old life back * I regret I didn't say "no" to marriage and "yes" to career * I regret thinking that having kids could "fix" us * I regret I didn't leave sooner * I regret nothing! My past is part of who I am now

Episode 31: What I Did Over My Summer Vacation

Marshall — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 11:48:48 -0400

Helloooo!! I’m back! Miss me?

Well, I sure have missed you and from what I’ve heard (yes, yes, I do read email, I just have an eency problemo answering it) some of you have noticed my summertime hiatus and wondered about my imminent return. Well summer is over and I am here to tell you many things have transpired (including the fact that yet again I managed to get a nasty rash from self tanner instead of a sexy, man-luring tan) but most importantly, I AM HOME.

Now, the definition of home is a complicated one for some people, but not for me. Home is where Mr. Handsome and Roo go to bed before midnight. Home is where the bed sheets aren’t always crunchy with sand (well, not usually.) Home is where I don’t wear the same white T-shirt seven days in a row. (In fact, home is where I don’t ever wear white if I can help it.) Home is where I go back on my diet, where gelato isn’t on the top of the food pyramid and where bathing suits (especially anything ending in “ini”) STAY IN A DRAWER. But mostly, home is where right now the suitcases and their sweaty, dirt-encrusted contents are splayed all over the living room floor. (Home is also where I need to clean the house with that new, eco-friendly green stuff that I have been threatening to use. Because at this very moment, home has been boarded up for weeks and well, you know how it is— home kind of smells.)

But smells are fine. Smells are cool when they are your own smells and not necessarily the smells of people who believe deodorant is a luxury item. So when we walk in the front door for the first time in weeks and Roo sticks his little nose in the air and sniffing says, “This place smells bene!” (That’s “good,” in Italian) I totally understand. (Mr. Handsome could care less about the smell. He goes straight for the television to see if the Sponge Bob Square Pants Movie was TIVO recorded. He has his priorities.)

What's the biggest challenge you have faced in your post-divorce job search?

Marshall — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 15:14:08 -0400

* There's a large time gap on my resume * I have no idea what I WANT to do or CAN do * I don't have the skills/education for the job I want/need * I can't afford childcare while I'm at work * I can't seem to fit my post-kid body into a cute pant suit

Episode 25: Peri Peri Quite Contrary

Tue, 20 May 2008 10:04:48 -0400

So here's the thing about being "peri-menopausal," (or as I like to call it, "PM.") It makes you cranky. (*Note: I was told by my ob-gyn that since I still occasionally get my period, I am not actually in full blown menopause. I ask her what constitutes "full blown" and she tells me that I will know it when I feel it which frankly, makes me even crankier than I am.) Apparently, PM can make you a lot of things (hungry, tired, bored by sex, totally horny) but it can also turn you into a monster. I have seen this in myself and I have seen it in my girlfriends and I have seen it in my neighbor whose husband comes home from work, finds her bawling and screams, "Why can't you just be happy?!" Some of us snap at our children. Many of us rail at our significant others. A few of us yell at our boob-enhanced friends who stood by us when our husbands brought home hookers. That's where I come in.

Episode 23: Breaking The Rules

Tue, 06 May 2008 12:42:48 -0400

There is nothing predictable about being in the middle of your life. I've learned that much, if I've learned anything. (Well, except for flabby upper arms. That, apparently, is pretty standard. And chin hairs made of graphite. Don't forget those.) So when one day your college boyfriend shows up, out of the blue, and says he's never really gotten over you — well, there is no rule book on how to handle that one. You could say, "You're a mixed up son of a bitch," which is what you wanted to say twenty years ago when he scaled the walls of your dorm and hung by your fifteenth story window. You might say, "This Romeo and Juliet act is so... Shakespearean," which is what you tried to spit out when he threw your "diverse backgrounds" in your face (you from Connecticut, him from Westchester — despite an Ivy League pedigree the boy was a moron.) You'd probably say, "That ship has sailed, Popeye," which means more or less nothing unless you understand what it is to be a guy who works out five hours a day and thinks his muscles are God's gift to a just-lost-her-virginity, boy crazy freshman. And yet you say none of these things. Instead, you stutter, "Geez, Danny, you look exactly the same," and stare at him, kind of hungry, like you did when you were twenty and all you could think of was how his ripped-to-the-max swimmers body (Eighties lingo, for you youngsters) would look naked in your dorm room.

How do you celebrate family milestones?

Fri, 02 May 2008 09:24:42 -0400

* As a large, happily-blended family * Together like oil and water * My Ex and I plan two separate but equal functions * My Ex and I compete to out-do each other