“Yeah, we were great. At least parts of it were great. We were good friends before we got married, and the friendship stayed good. We threw great parties together, and had a lot of laughs. People loved coming and being part of them. Even when our marriage was falling apart, nobody knew. We’re both pretty open sharing happiness, but more private with pain.
When we finally decided to pull the plug, we took some dear friends out to dinner to let them know we were divorcing – so they’d hear it directly from us. When we told them, they both burst into tears. My God! We were reaching across the table to touch them, and reassure them that everything was going to be alright. It was kind of comical, in a truly loving, bittersweet way.
“As much as we loved one another—and we did love each other—I was never much of a husband to her, and she was not what I would have hoped for in a wife. It should have been obvious from the start—in a way it was—but when we met, we were both about as old as you’d want to be to become a parent, and we each liked that the other was ready for that. Over time, though, our differences drove a wedge between us. Once you’re close to forty, you’re already pretty set in your habits; you have rigid expectations about what you’ll offer a mate, and what you expect in one. Our shared love of our daughter kept us together for quite a while, and helped us ignore the inevitable for as long as we could, but we never really got past the differences, and finally decided we each deserved the chance to find a better fit”
“Did it get ugly?” Buck asked, “Because most of my divorces involved flying dishes, loud swearing, and usually at least one 911 call.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Bucky.” Doc replied, “Rarely even a raised voice – and no real blame either. Just the kind of deep hurt that sits in your gut, and wakes you up in the middle of the night, wondering if you’ll ever be happy again.
“Sandy has found a great guy. And I haven’t lost hope there might be somebody out here for me too.
“But we’re not kids anymore; hell, we’re not even forty. We’re not looking for somebody to share our transition into adulthood, or to build a family together. That’s all behind me The malleability of youth has all been pounded out, and we have become rigid – and overly protective of our wounds.
In a way we’re like old toys at the bottom of the toybox; some with an arm or a leg missing, hair fallen out and ragged, or a stray spring popping out. What I’m getting at is we’ve got a lot of miles on us, and we seem to be looking for a mate who can protect us where we’re broken, and maybe needs help where we have help to offer. It’s a weird-ass way to start out a relationship, but you hear about it working out sometimes. But for people who are slow to bond—or maybe were hard to fit, even when they were young—the prospects aren’t that bright.”
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