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The Unusual Divorce

by Ginger

This year marks the three-year anniversary of my divorce, which has turned into one of the best friendships of my life. Actually, my ex and I were always good friends -- that was part of the problem, if you get my drift. But as exes, we don’t have that problem. We really don’t have many problems, in fact. To be honest, my comment to my ex after several months of singledom was, “Honey, I’m so glad that I married you, because you are great to be in a divorce with.” And he knew exactly what I meant.

We are an unusual story, I know -- and the truth is, it didn’t just happen. From the moment we decided to separate, we asked ourselves: can we create a crazy kinda divorce that isn’t bitter and hurtful? Could we preserve the platonic love we have for each other -- both for ourselves and for our son? Could we keep all the good parts and toss all the bad stuff? We decided that we could. So with small, mostly-even steps throughout a nearly two-year separation leading up to our divorce, we created what is for some of my family and friends a mind-boggling relationship ... and I’d be lying if I said we don’t take some amusement at their puzzlement . But truthfully our family and good friends help us sustain what we have through their own support...though they said it took a little getting used to.

It wasn’t always easy, but we did have the advantage that neither of us was supremely pissed off at the other one.  There is the occasional misunderstanding and disagreement.  But mostly we decided to be big when it would have been easier to be small-minded. We decided to let certain things go when it might have made one of us more satisfied to hang on. We decided that although we could not be married for life, we did want to be lifelong friends. In fact, I think the person who was most upset by our pleasantness was our attorney – he was furious when I invited my ex to join me at the courthouse. (“Do you think the judge thinks I’m at my divorce hearing with my boyfriend?” I asked my ex as we sat side-by-side whispering and making jokes.)  But the truth is, after 13 years of marriage, no one knows our ids, idiosyncrasies, and idiocies better than each other. How can you let an investment like that go?

Take, for example, the time my ex came over to show me the profile of a woman who had written to him on Match.com.  She was cute, irreverent, poetic; she said she struggled with relationships and was maybe just a little loony -- perfect. He thought so, too, and had started to write her back.  He asked me what I thought of what he’d written.

“Move over!” I shouted after reading his reply, rolling the desk chair away from the keyboard. “You can’t say all that in your first message -- you’ll scare her to death! Let me do this.” After working together to save his reply from instant deletion, I guess the best piece of advice I gave him that night was simply this: You might want to save the heavy stuff until after the first date.

We continue to get advice from each other -- on parenting, on household dilemmas (me: where do I find the turn-off for the water? him: is there a coffee table that can double as a woodcarving workbench?) and yes, advice about dating and relationships. We’re not trying to be weird. We’re not trying to exasperate my dad (who just doesn’t get it, and, as his little girl, I understand that he probably never will.) That’s okay. My ex and I are friends because we decided to be, long before we decided to be husband and wife. And long before we decided not to be husband and wife anymore.

Will our son be better adjusted because of this? I honestly don’t know. He seems pretty well adjusted already. I know he loves that we all hang out together – with our without our significant others. I know it’s gotta be good for him that there’s no fighting, no feuding, no taking sides. Of course, we hope that he gets the fact that although our family looks different now, it is still filled with love and support for each other. We hope that he learns – as we have – that divorce is not always a tragedy. But just in case, along with our son’s Bar Mitzvah Fund and College Fund, we’ve created his Therapy Fund. Because one day he might be lying on a couch somewhere, lamenting his life and blaming us with the whine: “Why couldn’t my parents have had a normal divorce?”