Following the shocking revelation of her husband revealing he is leaving, the protagonist explores life as a divorced person. She finds out what it is like to date after 7 years of being out of the dating game, at the same time as going through a divorce.
An account of life through and after divorce.
Chapter 1- 2
1 and 2
I Looked at the clock and realised it had been another night of clock watching before the alarm woke me up for work. I sat perched on the edge of the bed contemplating what the rest of the day would have in store, and more importantly, how the fuck I would get through it.
It wasn’t a normal thing for a 27 year old to be thinking. I had a house- about to be sold, a job- I felt distanced from, and a husband – yes, a husband- about to be divorced from.
It was an amazing Friday. A good day at work, a journey home and then a conversation no matter how many times I try to forget that goes over and over in my head. The words “I don’t love you anymore” resonating even now. I had lost him. I had lost who I was, and lastly, just to add the cherry to the proverbial cake, I was having to sell my house, at a loss.
It would seem that this year was not the only year that the market would crash with house prices, my relationship crashed as well. Well, mulling life over like this is not going to achieve anything. I had work to do, a job to go to, and although the duvet was welcoming me with open arms, I knew my situation was not going to change, even if I decided to emigrate to the bottom of the Catherine Langsford stags that were beckoning me to disappear behind the forest they were protecting.
I chastised myself for allowing the victim mentality to overwhelm me. It was the last time I would ever let any man define me and allow me to feel physically unable to function without them. Never. Ever. Again. I looked at myself in the mirror and scraped back the hair. Pushing the black circles around to try to get some semblance of normality to my face. The weight loss was more noticeable now. I guess there is a silver lining in every breakout, and this had to be it. Nothing else was even remotely positive about this whole situation.
I shut the door and looked at the place again. The deep intake of breath brought me back to my senses for a second. I was about to lose everything and here I was about to go to work and put on the bravest face in the world. I had to perform, go act out my day job, and just pretend for one shitty second that everything in life was absolutely perfect. The inner me was screaming about the unfairness. The calm composed professional I was meant that I tucked the lose strand of hair, turned, smiled and then pretended that life was the merry go ride that is portrayed in all the romance movies. Only life really isn’t like that and not matter how many of the films you watch. It simply isn’t reality.
I closed the car door, turned up the radio, and practised the fake smile that I put on every day. Today, I might actually forget the idea that in a few weeks or months, I will be 27, and divorced.
Now I know people might be reading this already and feeling like this is going to be ‘just another love story’ or that a happy ending occurs where they whisk themselves off into the sunset. It DOESN’T. Let me just repeat that. IT DOESN’T. If I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t actually believe in love. But, you gasp in horror, you were married. Surely that means that you do actually believe in love? Nope. I realised now that I was in love with the idea of being in love and actually, shock horror about to be revealed, I don’t actually believe in love. I don’t mean the idea of family love, or loving friends etc. I mean, I do not, actually do not believe that people just fall in love. Society has imposed this unrealistic, unachievable view on the happily ever after that in everyday life just doesn’t exist. I’ve had relationships, I loved the person, but this view of love that shows it to be the most amazing thing in the world doesn’t happen in real life. People have imperfections and it is those little idiosyncrasies that 1) make us unique but 2) also make the idea of perfect love something that can never be achieved. Now I know a lot of people right now are disagreeing with me. I expect that, but does Cinderella ever have a row with Prince Charming? Do the films show the ups and downs that a relationship has? Ever watched a film with a man farting and snoring in bed that represents love in a romantic way? Nope, me either.
So no, I do not believe that the love represented in the films, or society exists. The result of this is that I am either really cynical or actually just really realistic. I prefer realistic, after all at the tender age of 27, I am sat here waiting for a divorce to go through. If that doesn’t give me a right to have my own opinion, then I suggest you put this book down and go read something that will give you that warm glow in your tummy. This will certainly not provide that.