No Fault

Nebraska is a No Fault divorce state, meaning, hey, you don’t wanna be legally bound to your significant other? No prob, Bob. irreconcilable differences. Boom. Divorced.

I find it ironic that it is called “no fault.” It’s SOMEONES fault. His, mine, ours…

I made this appointment to visit with the lawyer last week, and at the time, I was more than ready to get the figurative ball a-rollin’. It’s nearly been a year since Jason and I separated, and we’ve been in this are we/aren’t we limbo. It was time to make a decision, to start the process, and I made the first leap. Super scary, by the by. It’s like pounding the final nail into that marriage coffin. Once that puppy is in there, it’s in there.

Again, I was fine with making this move; welcomed it, actually. Let the moving on commence. Time is doing a fairly decent job of healing the wounds. Except the events of the past week have kind of thrown me off a bit.

I went on my first date in eleven years. It went well, and I had a great time, but on my way home from the date, I was struck by how often during the date I was thinking of Jason. Not in a romantic way by any means, more of a “I can’t believe this guy isn’t Jason” way. I took this as a sign I am not yet ready to see anyone. It is unfair to me, and unfair to the gentleman caller, as well. When will I be ready? Who fucking knows. It took me almost a goddamned year to make the Big D meeting with a lawyer.

Then, today while at work before leaving for the meeting, I was overcome by a feeling of sadness over the whole situation, and I started crying. As I said before, this is it. This is the last call. All sales final, friend. But the meeting went well, questions were answered, and it’s going to be a very straightforward divorce. No kids, no property, no shared debt–with a quick pen stroke, signatures is really all it takes. Again, irony alert: you say “I do” when you get married, and you say “I do” when you get divorced, as well. Huh.

I still love Jason. Again, not in a “take me back!” way, but you can’t spend one third of your life with someone and not still have an emotional attachment to them, unless they were a total horror to live with and you would give anything to sever all ties with them. This is not our case. Jason is one of few people who understands the inner workings of my brain, gets my stupid jokes, and isn’t afraid to laugh at me. I value our relationship; he taught me many things, and I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for the guy. I hope we can continue being friends after all this is said and done. That was actually one of our stipulations when we decided to end it: no matter what, we’ll be friends. I know that’s a bit of a tall order to fill, considering all the bullshit we put each other through, but the fact we are still friends proves our …maturity? Wow…never thought I’d utter THAT word when both of us were concerned. Damn. I almost started laughing when I wrote that. But you get what I mean. We hold no grudges against each other, we just reached that point in any relationship when we realized we aren’t good for each other any more. No shame in that, friends. While I wouldn’t wish the divorce process on anyone, I wish more people had the good sense to recognize when things aren’t working out and perhaps a split is the best option.

So, that’s my two cents on this. To dissolution of marriage!

One comment

  1. Cathy Webster · June 15, 2011

    Awww.. chin up. At least you can write funny about it. It is possible to be friends with your ex. I’m friends with mine. It makes life helluva lot easier. Best of luck with quitting smoking, too. It’s way harder than divorce.

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