Life’s ultimate participation medal
Towards the end of our marriage, my wife would play games with me. I would beat her and take money off her. I did this every day. I took no responsibility for my actions. She then said she wanted a divorce. I tried telling her we were only playing Monopoly.
The following week she found a stack of letters I’d been hiding. “You’re cheating on me,” she shouted. She went into a frenzy and threw the Scrabble board at me. We then argued again.
“Eat your words!” She told me. I did, just for a quiet life. I remember thinking to myself, my next trip to the bathroom could spell disaster.
We decided to divorce. I sought advice from friends. A friend of mine, who’s a dentist told me all about his divorce. He was married to a manicurist. He told me her behaviour got out of hand. All through the divorce, they fought tooth and nail.
I have an uncle, once removed. Well actually my dad was born with a conjoined twin, but the doctors managed to separate them. They haven’t seen eye to eye since. But I’ve always stood by my uncle. Even if my father hasn’t. Anyway, Uncle Dick told me about when he got divorced. He left his wife because she used to hit with stringed instruments. He never knew she had a history of violins.
I was broke, but I needed a divorce lawyer and quick. I inquired as to the rates of Jeff Bezos’ lawyer. But I was a couple of billion short. I had no choice but to get the cheapest lawyer around. He was Irish. I once asked him why there aren’t many Irish lawyers. He said because they find it difficult to pass the bar. I’d also heard rumours he was prosecuted for masturbating in court. Apparently he managed to get himself off.
As anyone will know that has gone through an acrimonious divorce, it’s about as pleasant as having an enema, while the whole procedure is streamed live on social media; you know the procedure is needed, but you can’t control who gets to see all the gritty details. For those that read my stories, I acknowledge I have just reused one of my jokes. But being a passionate environmentalist, I love to recycle. I’m looking to start up my own business, recycling discarded chewing gum. I just need halp getting it off the ground.
Going through a divorce is so intrusive. I hadn’t felt this violated since that time I was forced to swallow purple food colouring. The whole court process became toxic. We started accusing each other of the most heinous crimes.
I was accused of cross-dressing. And my ex-wife claimed that when she found out, she demanded I pack her things and leave, but I refused. She then claimed I had bizarre sexual fetishes. She claimed that one night she had to leave the house because of it. She told the judge that as she left I shouted at her. “Fine! Slam the door on my cock on the way out.”
At one point my ex-wife got herself convicted of constantly boasting about how attractive she thought she was. “I’m appealing,” she immediately shouted.
She also accused me of watching porn. “It degrades women,” she told me in court. The joke was on her. The porn I watched didn’t have any women in it.
I attempted to tell the court I was coerced into doing a disproportionate amount of chores. I particularly hated doing the laundry and ironing. I once tripped and fell down the stairs with a basket of clothes I’d just spent hours ironing. No help from my ex-wife. She just stood there and watched it all unfold.
The divorce proceedings had a detrimental effect on my mental health. My life began to spiral out of control. I then got a drinking problem. My friends and family tried to help me. But I was in denial. I used to tell myself I was working really hard on controlling my alcoholism. I used to commend myself for not remembering the last time I blacked out.
But, like that man who was recently awarded atrophy for surviving the worlds longest coma, I pulled through.
I’ve now had time to reflect on the mistakes I made that contributed to the breakdown of our marriage. And only now can I see I was incredibly immature throughout the whole marriage.
I once told my ex-wife that I’m really into Beyonce. She said, “whatever floats your boat.” I said, “no, that’s buoyancy.” She rolled her eyes and looked at me as if I was a little buoy.
I once told her sex is better on holiday. She was so angry when she got that postcard.
And then there was that time she told me, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” I told her she should go see a doctor; she probably has osteoporosis.
I once asked her what she wanted for her birthday. She said, “nothing would make me happier than an expensive diamond ring.” So I got her nothing.
Now I’m left with nothing, but a grateful sense of contentment, love and freedom. So who’s laughing now?
Originally posted in The Haven, 27th October 2019
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