Tell Me About Your Ex-Husband

Carnage chatter

I’m thinking about getting a divorce so people can ask me about my ex-husband all the time. I’m so jealous of those lucky bastards who are always getting interviewed about their exes at dinner parties. It looks so fun. Please, sir, let me talk about that jerk who slept with our nanny, opened secret bank accounts, and called my mother fat.

I want a really messy divorce. Carnage devoured cheating and one of us hiring a hitman. I’d like to appear funny when discussing my biggest heartbreak at parties. I want people to think, “Wow. She really got fucked, but look how delightfully she’s curated her pain.”

I want people to intensely scrutinize me when I replay the worst era in my life. I want my friends to judge me as my heart crashes through the floor every time someone casually asks, “What was your ex like?”

I want to talk about my divorce all the time. Almost like it’s a new love affair when my skin is still tingling. I want my friends to revel in my pain and gather the tiniest little tidbits about how my great love metamorphosized into roadkill.

The most important thing is I want my friends to feel good about their relationships. I want my buds to leave the dinner party, where I’ve laid my open wounds on the table, feeling awesome about their own relationships.

Even if they’re married to the world’s biggest snore-fest, or the planet’s most gaping asshole, I want them to return home, coveting their non-divorced status.

Even if their partner has never picked up a sock, doesn’t know how to work the dishwasher, has never attended their kids' school events, hasn’t said I love you in 40 years, I want them to be happy they’re not me.

I want these sadistic couples to look into each other's eyes on the car ride home and say, “It could be so much worse! We could be Amy.” Kissy kissy.

Photo by Olya Kobruseva from Pexels

When I quit drinking, a lot of my friends wanted to know if they were alcoholics. They were. I want to provide the same service for my friends in bad marriages. Yes, you blew it. You married the wrong human. Get a divorce and join me in the post-divorce dinner party interrogations. It’s funner than licking up horse manure.

I’d like my current husband to run over our dog. Then I’d like him to help the kids make MISSING signs and post them all over the neighborhood. I want this divorce to be unpleasant enough that people never ever stop asking about it.

I’m really looking forward to the asshole who invites me and my ex and his hot new partner to the same dinner party. That way, everyone can feel sad about how fat I’ve gotten while simultaneously watching me react to being usurped by a prom queen. Can’t wait. Love my friends.

The problem with married people is they’re very bored. Divorce is fantasy island for those who haven’t experienced one. They’ve tried all the drugs, sex, misdemeanors, and moral quandaries they’re ever going to try.

Interviewing divorced people about their ex is good for their own marriage. It’s a selfless act of self-preservation.

So, in a way, it’s very loving to ask divorced people about their ex if it’s buying your own marriage some bonus years. A lot of people attended your wedding. You owe it to your guests to do whatever it takes to keep that shit show shining bright.

Maybe be the problem—wedding guests. You know how the wedding couple addresses their guests at their wedding? “You are witnesses to our love.” It’s implied the guests are supposed to be the village that helps your marriage stay together.