The Scarlet D

Disclaimer: This will not be some sappy pity party where I cry myself a
river over how a failed marriage destroyed me...um seriously who even
thinks that anymore?


Filling out the forms at the doctors office and checking off that
magical box "divorced" is how I know I have really arrived in the
promised land. But if I still had some doubts the glamorous paper gown
and cold metal stirrups put my mind at ease. OBGYN lady looks up at me
with her minors' light strapped to her forehead which by the way if she
finds any gold I call dibs as I am now a bitch on a budget.

While digging around she questions me, such the multi-tasker! "Do you
always use protection?"

I shrug, "Not really necessary at this point with my partners, but thank
you."

"You are aware of the increased risks of contracting sexually
transmitted diseases when you have unprotected sex with multiple
partners?"

I bite my lip. "But I assure you my partners are 100% faithful to me and
when I am done they are scrubbed down and put away."

She nearly drops her nifty tools. "Excuse me?"

This is when I happily list off all my toys in my drawer full of goodies
back at home. She gives me a stern look not appreciating my sense of
humor. You know how they say you shouldn't fuck with the people who
handle your food? I guess the same should be said for those who handle
your cervix. Lesson learned. I passed my exam with flying colors which
was why I was a bit disappointed when my request for a sticker "I got my
pap smear today!" was denied. Can you believe such a thing doesn't even
exist? At least they could have given me a lollipop and a balloon. As a
consolation prize I snatched a hand full of free flavored condoms. You
never know the next time you'll be stuck in traffic and fresh out of
gum.

Okay okay okay, here it comes. I met the one we shall not name but if we
must let's call him Spoon because well, why not? Oh wait I digress and
so early on too. Well it's a story not incredibly uncommon really: we
met young, rushed into sex, rushed into a relationship, rushed into home
ownership, rushed into marriage....then decided it would be fun to make
each other miserable for a few years with lots of angry fights and
crying before dragging our feet to divorce court.

Here is my grievance with the whole divorce process. It's long and
boring...let's make it a series of gladiator tournaments. Each event
wins a prize we're disputing like the house or our sanity. In the end
there is a giant obstacle course with alligators because I firmly
believe alligators should be involved in the divorce process. Whoever
wins the final event has to explain while wearing a clown suit that they
are an impotent deusch bag on national television. Actually they should
sing all the reasons they are a failure as a husband errr spouse to the
tune of "Ice Ice Baby".

I AM NOT BITTER. I am better. Did I cry while stuffing my face with the
lava cake sundaes at Friendly's? Maybe a few dozen times just to get it
out of my system. Then I decided the best medicine is making other
people uncomfortable about my situation. There were a lot of people who
witnessed our courtship and marriage, so there were a lot of opinions
and offers of sympathy. Mainly what everyone wanted to know was what had
happened. So depending on the day, my mood, and if Mercury was in
retrograde I would reply with any of the following:

"I consider myself a pretty open minded woman but there are just some
things that should be done with farm animals and hot wax."

"He was a bit of a bleeder."

"Sex change. Now my ex-husband is my best girlfriend and we go
patrolling for under aged hotties together."

"They wouldn't allow me to get my gun permit, so I settled on divorce.
Did you still need someone to watch the kids next weekend?"

"I found Jesus and I'm not really into threesomes."

"Apparently some people seem to think cannibalism is NOT okay.
Whatever."

"He was holding me back from pursuing my life long dream of moving to
the Philippines and running my very own Nike sweatshop."


You be surprised to learn that I have been accused more than once of
masking my pain with my sarcasm, but I am quick to reply that's what the
drugs and meaningless sex with strangers are for. Everyone has their own
coping mechanisms, don't judge mine and I'll be sure not to judge
yours...to your face.

I guess the real question I want to know at this point is, what's next
for me?