Making Money From Everything – Divorce Parties

I suppose it’s okay to celebrate the end of a relationship. If it was terrible, then finding one’s sense of independence and fun independent of the significant other is a good thing.  Weird, but better than tears and screaming.

I have two main problems with this. One, is the commercialization of divorce, or of love, or romance. It’s not divorce parties that I have a problem with, it’s the fact that there is a divorce party industry. Yes, I know most life and now even death events are commercialized. Births, weddings, deaths, etc…We are given the proper attire, instruments, accessories, and even the ways we should grieve/rejoice.. I suppose it was bound to happen. Nothing is personal or intimate anymore.  I mean, misery can make a company more money than happiness can.

What also gets me is the promise-breaking.  Of taking divorce so lightly. I mean, saying, and hopefully believing that this was “For better or worse” or for forever, and all that jazz…It’s troublesome that people can easily throw that away, and then celebrate.

I don’t believe divorces should be harder to get, not at all, but I don’t people should rush into marriage so quickly. Maybe I’m too much of a stickler for promises, and for words having meaning.

 

Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult

When you love someone, there’s a pattern to the way you come together. You might not even realise it, but your bodies are choreographed: a touch on the hip, a stroke of the hair. A staccato kiss, break away, a longer one, his hand slipping under your shirt. It’s a routine, but not in the boring sense of the word. It’s just the way you’ve learned to fit, and it’s why, when you’ve been with one guy for a long time, your teeth do not scrape together when you kiss; you do not bump noses or elbows.

To be honest, I sometimes really enjoy the clumsy love. I enjoy bumping noses. There is plenty of time for that serious/smoldering/sexy sex. Not enough time is spent on the silly, giddy, goofy stuff. No come-hither eyes. Then again, not all physical contact between two people should always end up with a sexual result. Bodies can be enjoyed in a plethora of other ways.

There’s A Hole in My Sidewalk: Autobiography in Five Short Chapters by Portia Nelson

Chapter One
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost …. I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

Chapter Two
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend that I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter Three
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit … but, my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter Four
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter Five
I walk down another street.

I read this poem long ago in school. I forgot all about it and I recently ran across it again. I think it does a lot for a variety of situations.