DIVORCE | HUMOR
Where’s Waldo? I’ll See You in Court — or Not
If you’ve never gotten divorced alone, you should try it.
Have you ever known anyone who got a divorce from a runaway spouse on the grounds of marital abandonment? Take it from someone who has; it’s a stone-cold trip.
Now You See Me, Now You Don’t
My husband took up with a new woman for my Valentine's Day present a few years ago and left me.
So, what was I — the jilted wife — supposed to do but stand there and look ridiculous? He was essentially unreachable and untouchable — securely tucked away with his paramour on another continent. Making matters worse, I had no known forwarding address or other contact info for him — lovely.
When he’d been MIA for almost a year, clergy and legal counsel suggested that I protect myself from further joint liability by filing for divorce.
However, all I knew was that my Runaway Romeo was hanging out in East Asia, in a tiny town with 19 million people who speak Marathi and Hindi. Well, that certainly narrowed things down and made it easy, eh?
I was going to have to think outside the box.
A Different Approach ….
When I visited my attorney, he told me that our divorce would differ from most. You see, even though Dear Darling was the one who started this whole thing by doing his boot-scooting-boogie, I was going to have to jump through a few hoops to get our affairs separated.
In other words, I first had to prove that I made sufficient ‘good-faith efforts’ to locate him before divorcing him. This involved:
- Putting public notices in local newspapers where he was known to have resided last. (Check.)
- Publishing notices where he might be currently living. (Check.)
- Sending notices to his family members and last known acquaintances. (Check.)
Yay me! Even more fun! Even more humiliation! My attorney said he would send a copy of the divorce notification to his affair partner at her overseas workplace.
Raising The Dead
It was amazing. Dear Darling called me immediately when formal notification of our pending divorce showed up at New Woman’s place of employment.
With his ego insulted, he took umbrage that I would take such ‘drastic measures’ so soon. After all, he’d only been gone ten months with no communication. Why was I in such a rush?
Even though I was still grieving and crying over him, my humor did manage to make its way to the surface now and then. His theatrical, fake indignation made me laugh.
Did he honestly think his disappearance was some extended test drive before buying a new car? Did he think I would casually wait out this time apart to give him ample time to decide whether he wanted the Ford or Chevy?
Had his phonograph needle skipped so many grooves that he saw himself as a new-age polygamist getting a jump on a new harem? Well, butter my biscuits and call me clairvoyant because I knew the answer.
It wasn’t up to him anymore.
Please Approach The Bench
It was a beautiful sunny day in early January when I was scheduled to appear in Domestic Relations Court to finalize our divorce — alone.
At the appointed time on the court docket, our case was called aloud,
“Divorce case number 666 … Humpty Dumpty, The Chump-ee vs. Meany Houdini.”
Accompanied by my attorney, I walked to the front of the hearing room and stood quietly before the judge.
She lowered her head and furrowed her brows. Her eyes quizzically darted around the courtroom. She was expecting Mr. Houdini to step forward and approach the bench as well.
She appeared puzzled and visibly annoyed at him not being there. Conspicuous signs were posted around the courthouse about being on time for court.
My attorney leaned in and whispered to the judge, “In Absentia … Your Honor … On the grounds of desertion.” … “Oh, I see …” said the judge.
Reviewing The Documentation
As would only happen to me in such circumstances, when everything was supposed to be serious and business-like, Murphy came breathlessly busting through the courtroom doors and ran up to join us for the festivities.
After an extended period of shuffling of paperwork, the judge discovered that my attorney’s office had submitted the wrong divorce petition forms!
So instead of being a Kramer-vs-Kramer proceeding, it was just me — and Murphy. Sensing my concern, the judge spoke up and advised me not to worry.
Then — and I kid you not! — The judge whipped out a bottle of liquid White Out and began correcting the forms — in ballpoint pen!
She added the following note in her handwriting: “Said defendant does not present due to having absconded to India with his paramour.”
Apology Accepted
I didn’t know what to make of this keystone-cops-esque legal proceeding.
The judge looked sheepishly at me from under her reading glasses and apologized. “I’m sorry. I don’t do these kinds of divorces very often.”
And don’t you know it, before I had time to think, my humor imp (determined not to be outdone by Murphy’s unannounced arrival) piped up and answered for me, saying: “Well, neither do I, Your Honor.”
The judge paused momentarily and then chuckled at my use of humor in an awkward situation. She then turned to her right, picked up the microphone, and began dictating her “Let the record show …” formalities.
With that concluded, she signed what would soon become my odd-looking, yet still very official, divorce papers.
Okay, So It’s Me, Right?
My attorney accompanied me to an adjacent room, where he stood alongside me long enough to ensure that the original decree was time-stamped and logged into the court’s archival system.
He then rushed off to meet his next divorcing couple. I headed home after purchasing several notarized copies of my divorce papers for my records.
I stepped into the empty elevator. As the door closed for my ride back down to the main floor, I paused for a short moment of reflection. However, my attempt at introspection was cut short when the bell dinged, and the elevator doors opened to welcome a fresh crop of couples rushing upstairs for appointments in the Domestic Relations courtroom.
As I was pushed into the corner by the crowd filling the elevator, I mentally asked myself, “So what have you learned, dear? And what are you going to do now?”
The elevator bell dinged several more times, letting various people enter and exit their intended floors. Soon, I was at the parking level.
Using the divorce papers I rolled into a scroll during my ride, I hit the elevator door on the way out — answering my mental question out loud: “What I’m going to do is live single the rest of my life. That’s what I’m going to do!”
Playing Right To The Script
When all was said and done, I realized that even though I’d been the plaintiff who initiated the divorce, I had, once again, been manipulated by my runaway ex.
Like a good Pollyanna, I had done what was expected of me. I stayed on script, doing the dirty work for the affairing couple by getting the divorce. I helped them fulfill their grand plan. Dear Darling could legally and formally rid himself of me without getting his hands dirty or spending one dime in legal fees.
Dear Darling had lived with me for almost three decades; he had ample time to study me. I’m an open book, and he knew that continued inaction on his part would trigger action on my part. He knew that I’d step up, play the responsible role, and get the divorce for him.
I’d bet money that he probably tells people, “Hey, she was the one that divorced me!” It doesn’t matter; I don’t care what he says — I’ve moved on.
As a Christian, I believe we’ll all be present for another court appearance, and in that court, everyone’s motives and objectives — including my own! — will be made known ‘for the record’ and for all to see.
People make mistakes. His mistake was leaving the way he did. But it's no worse than my mistake of marrying him in the first place—zero-sum gain.
Closing Remarks
Abandonment … desertion … dropping the shovel to run … call it what you will.
The bottom line is that, out of the blue, Dearest Darling made a unilateral decision to end an epoch of my life — and my only choice was to deal with it and keep on living.
Enough of that. There’s no need to let a good tragedy go to waste when you’re a humorist, eh?
Dear Darling accomplished his goal, so someone had a good outcome. My positive takeaway is that time passes, and we adapt. If you’re one of the lucky ones, you also find a lot of funny stuff to write about.
After our divorce, I happened across a legal website and enjoyed a good laugh. It reminded me of that very odd day in court.
Now that we’ve gone our separate ways, it’s clear that, although Dear Darling never showed up for court, he did have the better attorneys: Ditcher, Quick & Hyde.
It’s all good. ‘Sometimes You Gotta Laugh’ ~
