The Ugliness (part 1)
Shortly after Thanksgiving of 2014, my then wife of 19 years sends me an email. “I think I need some time away.” After Christmas, she said, she was planning on taking the kids and either 1) moving in with her 65-year-old dad 60 miles away or 2) renting a townhome 15 minutes away.
“Seems kind of rash.” I said.
“No, I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Do I get to participate in the decision?”
I didn’t need one, of course. This is America. Anyone and everyone who is married can file for divorce and the other spouse has nothing to say about it. Eventually, I did convince her to go to one session of counseling. It lasted 60 minutes. At the 50-minute marker, the counselor interrupted to say, “well, Jennifer, it sounds like Lex is ready to work on the marriage. How about you?”
And that was that.
Not sure why we spent $150 for an hour’s worth of the counselor’s time when all it resulted in was my Ex telling him the same thing she’d already told 100 other people.
The reaction from friends, family, and neighbors came fast and furious.
For the most part the reaction was the same.
I didn’t really have any satisfactory answers other than to relate what I had observed, which included, among other things, text and emails to another man sent and received well into the early morning hours. Since my Ex and I had spent the better part of six years seeing infertility doctors before being blessed with two beautiful children, no one could quite get their heads around either one of us suddenly calling it quits without even trying.
But we eventually figured it all out.