It's a question I'm still asked occasionally, often by people who assume I must not have tried hard enough to keep things together; people who are hoping their question will result in an invitation to unload tangential bits of advice and wisdom.
I have my list of standard answers, my easily digestible half-truths. Because there's really no simple answer to that one, is there? Not unless I came home to find my husband screwing my sister on the dining room table, anyway (which I didn't). That would be a pretty straight forward equation. 1 + 1 = divorce.
But for most of us it's a much more complex algebraic equation; one in which there is no definitive answer in the quest to solve for y. I could tell you that we were young when we met and just grew apart. I could tell you that he was a self-centered ass who was all take and no give. I could tell you that I sunk into a depression, isolated myself, and looked to him for more support than he should have been expected to provide.
All of these things are true. All of these, I've found, are answers that people are willing enough to accept without too much question. And any one of them, perhaps, would have been enough to eventually drive us apart. But they are not the real answers. They each played their part in the divorce, true. But they are merely symptoms of the real answer.
The most simple answer, the truest answer, is this: I got divorced because I got married.
The question here ought not be "Why did you get divorced?". The real question is "Why did you get married?".
Once you know the answer to latter, you'll feel no need to ask the former.
...and cut to commercial.
I'd intended to answer that latter question in this post, but it's late and I'm tired. So, the end. We'll call this Episode One. Tune in tomorrow for Episode Two: So... why did you get married?
Sidewalk Editorial Cartoon
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