DIVORCE NEW NORMAL: “WAS IT ANOTHER GUY?”

 

 

Older people, a goal baby boomers are moving toward at hyper speed, have heard more joy and heartache than anyone else. We’ve got at least ten thousand hours in each encompassing most every possible outcome.

 

At recent bar stop I learned a whole new take on divorce for modern times. It came with sadness, humor, and a shocking twist. At least shocking to this present day chronicler of the unusual.

 

How shocking? You tell me.

If you have a favorite beer stop near home, you know the routine. It’s not a scene out of Cheers where everyone knows your name, but there might be one or two people on any given stop of the week who recognize you.

 

A favorite tavern, favorite pub, favorite bar are all the same thing: Not home.

 

Guys I’ve met there joke about telling their wives they’re going to Home Depot and hit the bar along the way there or the way back. It’s the same routine I heard from staff at the local gun range, that husbands tell their wives they’re going to Home Depot on a honey-do run AND stop and cook off a few clips.

 

The Home Depot excuse is sort of a surprise, but maybe it fits in with alcohol and ammo? It does around Tigard.

 

After a run of errands late in the afternoon, I popped in around five thirty and found a seat at the window end of the bar. I like to drink and stand to keep the proper perspective. No wobbling.

 

A woman sat in the next chair in.

 

“Anyone sitting here?” I asked nodding to the empty seat.

 

“Nope, just me next to it eating my way through the saddest week of my life,” she said.

 

Maybe in her mid-forties, she said she had four kids, but that wasn’t the sad part.

 

Her brother in law died recently and she couldn’t process the loss. That’s what she meant by ‘eating through the week.’ Made sense coming from her.

 

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss,” I said. People in my favorite bar open up like that, like it’s therapy.

 

“The hard part wasn’t him dying,” she said. “He’d suffered long enough. But he left young kids. And his wife complained about him for a year. Instead of spending every moment with her and the kids, he went hunting and fishing until he was too weak.”

 

I pulled out my New Normal disguise and said, “There’s no right way or wrong way when we go terminal. I hope she understands.”

 

“I just hope she stops putting it all on social media,” she said.

 

“Uh oh. She probably will now,” I said. “But you’ve got to remember one thing, and it’s a big one. You’re on this side, not that side, and you’ve got a built in audience watching every move you make. Be sure they see the best of you.”

 

I finished a pint as she gathered her things to leave.

 

“Thank you for listening,” she said.

 

“Nothing to it. Now go and listen to your kids and let them know you’re going to be around for a long, long, time. You know, in case they wonder,” I said. “Turn up your Life Light and let it shine on them.”

 

“I’ve never heard that before, but I know just what you mean,” she said.

 

I stood there satisfied I’d fulfilled my promise of making a better New Normal than my Old Normal. An early March Madness game played out on the big screen behind the bar when I heard some call my way with, “Hey, survivor.”

 

A man I’d met in the bar walked over to say hello, and so much more. After we got caught up he dropped his current bomb.

 

“My life is a mess, getting a divorce, moving out, becoming a part time dad. And I don’t blame her,” he said.

 

It was looking like a two session night for my New Normal, so I waved for another pint. Like most of you reading boomerpdx around the world, I’ve heard of people getting married and divorce and remarried. Happens all of the time. Hopefully not to any of you, but I like to think I’m a safe place in my favorite bar.

 

“Yeah, man. Sounds about as bad as it could get. You’ve got the whole meal deal landing on you,” I said. “How’s she taking it.”

 

“You’ve met her. It’s her idea to break up,” he said. “She’s doing fine.”

 

One therapy session was enough, and now this. I wanted to say the right thing, something helpful, something that would encourage him for being so open. Most of all I wanted to say something that might change the subject. I’ve never been much good at soothing manly feelings, especially during an emotionally charged time.

 

My record shows I’ve made more grown men cry than get a grip on their problems. Still, effort counts.

 

“She’s doing fine? Is there another guy?” I asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“She sounds like she’s got another guy to ease the transition,” I said. “The rebound.”

 

“Makes sense,” he said. “Except it was me.”

 

So there I was, minding my own business, a great beer next to my hoisting hand, an important basketball game on television, and a man stepping out of the divorce closet. It was the biggest plot twist in a sad divorce conversation I could imagine.

 

Somehow my language understanding skills blanked. I could barely hear. All I could do is stand in wonderment of the human condition. A late afternoon drink on a Thursday went from heartache and loss, to what?

 

I was at a loss. All I needed to do was drink up and leave, but that’s Old Normal.

 

What does New Normal do? What would you do?