So I'm reading the news today. I try to do it daily. It makes me feel like I'm up on the world of my fellow man woman and child--especially my fellow child. I spend most of my time reading the comics. What can I say, I love Pearls Before Swine. Oh Dilbert is funny too, but I since I work at home, cubicle humor is lost on me. I do get stupid people jokes though. That's why I still laugh at Dilbert.
I try to save the good ones. I either leave them folded in a stack, or I cut them out and post them. I do the same with my relationships too. If they're really good I try to share them with friends. I had a friend share a Brewster Rocket comic once. A fly head boy had reached puberty. Yeah it was funnier when they sent it to me. That's the cool thing about relationships and comics: the context enhances everything.
Somewhere before the comics, I read about a Televangelist getting a divorce. That's not too newsworthy, but once again, context. Most TV folk would hide their divorce in the background, somewhere around Heathcliff or Marmaduke where nobody will read it, but not this woman. She was proud of her divorce decision. She was getting divorced on divorce court.
Well that's interesting.
I don't know. It sounded wrong. I couldn't see how somebody could take something as private as a divorce and run public with it. Yeah, I know: so says the guy who writes his own daily divorce blog. That's different. I mean she has thousands of viewers. I have--what--raise your hands--1,2…You, pretending to make cold calls, I know you're reading me, put your hand up…3. I can't count the guy in the cubie next to you, he's peering over the partition, but he's staring at your pictures, and not your monitor. If he sees my blog it's just to be conversational. Go ahead, wave. He's a little creepy, but he's harmless. Ok, that's 3 of you. That's it.
When I air my dirty laundry I'm more at risk of people smelling my socks than catching whiff of my blog. This woman is televised. She's public. When she stinks, the world knows, just like Dilbert. If it's Wally rehashing another lazy joke, the world morns.
So now she's getting divorced on divorce court. I'm not bagging on her. We all do what we feel is right, and hope that we are right in the process. If nothing else, maybe we'll be perceived as right. That’s an extra pound of down in our pillows at night.
She did say one thing I agree with. She said, "I was trying to make it work because I don't like losing relationships." I could get behind that. I hate losing relationships. It doesn't matter: Friends, Romans, Countrymen, people who've sent me their ears. I like them all, and it's hard to lose them. Well, with the ear people, it's more because it's hard to forget somebody who sends you something like that in the mail.
This box is earmarked for delivery...
MyUnwife sent me confetti once. It was cool. We were dating and she sent me a card. When I opened it, sparkly stuff fell out. I was relieved: there weren't any ears. Now she hasn't done anything like that in almost a decade. Now she sends me divorce paperwork updates. That's fine. Relationships of all types evolve and take on new dynamics.
Whether it's a marriage, or a work acquaintance, anybody you spend time with will grow and change with you over the years. In a marriage you hope to grow and change together, like hairs twisting together. That's not always the case. Sometimes you wake up next to a person and go, "you know, your butt wasn't nearly that hairy when we met. Where did all that fur come from?" If I might interject a thought here: Men, never say that to your wives. Don't ask me how I know, let's just say it's something I heard.
Still that furry butt is a comfortable butt. It's your butt. It's there, and when it's gone you notice it more than when it was there; just like I'm sure Van Gogh noticed that missing ear. How could he support a telephone when he called those anonymous 900 numbers?
You have a relationship to that butt. Letting it go is never easy, no matter if you're the kicker or the butt, there's something you'll miss. I miss MyUnwife. I miss her butt. I miss our relationship. The same way I miss my third grade relationship with Stephanie Sherwood. Oh we never did anything but wait for the bus together, but when she left I sat on my butt waiting for the bus alone. I've gotten used to the loss of both, but there are still butt shaped scars on my heart.
I'm sure I've butt-scarred somebody myself. It happens. That's why, like the televangelist, I try to never loose my relationships. Unfortunately, just like the best comics, sometimes they just slip away.
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