No One Ever Talks About Their ‘Fairytale Divorce’
I’ll go first; I wish my ex-husband was more like Mrs. Doubtfire.
It’s an eye-opening experience to listen to other women vent about their divorce story and hear how it all went down. After twenty-four years of marriage (and two days after dropping their youngest son off at college), my friend’s Was-band declared,
“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be able to come and go as I please without having to answer to anyone (*ahem* you, my wife). I want my freedom. And I want a divorce.”
Nice.
Unfortunately, her story is what inspired me to zoom out on my situation and quietly think to myself, at least he was honest with you and took responsibility for his feelings even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.
That night, while my wheels were feverishly spinning, I came across an article titled, How I Cheated On My Wife that I secretly hoped was my ex-husband writing under a pen name. Sadly, no dice. Michael Sands turned out to be much more clever than my ex. At the time, the bitter truth wouldn’t have been any less crushing than it already was to accept what was happening right before my eyes. In retrospect, I would have really appreciated (and respected) my Ex-Husband more if he took an inkling of accountability. I was four months into turning eighteen, and he was on the cusp of twenty-two when we met. We were both clueless. Shit happens — wipe your ass.
If he said to me,
- You haven’t lost all your baby weight, and our kids aren’t babies anymore.
- Your boobs aren’t perky enough like they were at twenty-two (and before breastfeeding our two children).
- I’m hideously unhappy, and I’m not in love with you anymore.
- Your vagina is run-through, and I want to have sex with other people.
I kid you not; I would have swallowed any bitter pill presented to me over how it actually went down. Just as I started wandering down a darker path while writing this piece, I got caught up watching the brilliant Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire. I guess you could say — I saw the light. The longer I watched Mrs. Doubtfire vacuum and dance to “Dude Looks Like A Lady,” the further I plummeted down the rabbit hole of what-ifs.
Oh, how I had wished my marriage ended with my ex-husband cross-dressing as like an older cheeky British woman who nanny-ed her way back into our lives (and my heart.)
There was an incredible unspoken affection between Daniel and Miranda. You could sense the invigorating hope throughout the movie that there was a chance of them reuniting. After I realized none of this was ever going to happen (and the get-up my ex would need to buy to be in full character would be costly on top of the child support payments), I knew there was only one thing to do. I had to own up to the only thing I was in control of — taking responsibility for who and where I was in my marriage and what I wished I had done differently.
I wish I had…
- Shown my Ex more affection
- Went to individual therapy sooner
- Went to couples counseling sooner
- Enjoyed/had more sex with him
- Got back into shape and started taking better care of myself sooner
- Connected with him more while simultaneously voicing my wants and needs with bravado
- Laughed at life with him more
- Went on more dates with him
- Been (way) more involved in our finances
- Said “No” to him and stood my ground more often
- Said “Fuck No” (and go fuck yourself) when he asked for an open marriage while I stayed home with the kids. For the record, I never agreed to it. Most days were spent in absolute shock that he would have the audacity to proposition me while he knew I was vulnerable and dependent on him. Ah, it all makes sense now.
- Made it abundantly clear that if he keeps dating other women, I will fucking leave him.
Even with the glooming cloud of grief that hangs over me from time to time, my regrets during my marriage are not severe enough to convince me that the outcome would have been any different.
Nevertheless, I believe hindsight is always 20/20.
I wish I had done a lot of things differently. I also want my ex-husband to dress up like Mrs. Doubtfire and come to save the day. But sometimes, you have to find out the hard way that fairytales aren’t real, and underneath that panty-hose is a hairy-legged Robin Williams impersonating a cheeky old British lady.
Thank you for reading. You are loved. ❤
Divina Grey is a ferocious woman and mother rebuilding her life one article at a time. She likes long bike rides, singing and playing her guitar, an electrifying workout, and a cup of coffee so decadent she can feel the frothiness in her bones.
