One of the things I've noticed about DIVORCED people is that they all LOVE to tell their story.
Myself included (ahem).
As soon as you tell someone you're divorcing (and if they have been through it themselves) you get their story. Usually it starts with one line about why their ex was the WORST. Here are some recent examples:
She slept with our neighbor the plastic surgeon who did her boob job.
He left me for one of our daughter's friends.
She never cooked.
He liked to sleep in his car.
I caught him sneaking cookies while I had him on the Zone diet.
He was mean to the cat.
She left me with a can opener and one can of beef stew, nothing else.
And then they launch into the stories. These stories are gut wrenching and occasionally terrifying. The battlefield of marriage is laid bare once the couple files their papers. And on some level it does make me feel better about me and my ex. I have quickly discovered that we were by no means the most disfunctional twosome out there. Who knew? Not me.
It leaves me wondering about the human suffering that doesn't make headlines. The quiet battles out there for autonomy and control. Nobody does a telethon for women who can't get out of bed because they feel they've disappeared in their marriage. You don't see planes full of people rushing to the aid of middle-aged men who have realized that this is all there is ever going to be...