The title of this blog is in fun. At this particular junction in my life, nothing makes me merrier than the demise of a marriage of the beautiful folk. Today, Scarlett Johannsen and Ryan Reynolds announced that they are planning to divorce.
Granted, there is less acrimony (at least in the press) in their separation than there is in mine (thankfully not in the press) but it shows that those of us not fortunate enough to succeed at matrimony that others, thankfully high-profile others, will also have a difficult time making marriage work.
I think the reason is simple: one goes through the dating phase, where you're feeling out the other person, wanting to be with them regularly, ignoring any warning signs (such as in-laws, which I speak from experience), and dismissing whatever sordid pasts one might have had. When I moved to Wisconsin, a mutual friend took me around downtown and cheerfully identified the random spots where my soon-to-be-ex had either disrobed, made a drunken fool of herself, doinked in a public venue, etc. It should have been eye-opening, at the least, but at the time it was charming in a way. Here was a person who had enjoyed her years in some random town and had a personal Freedom Trail to prove it. I've got mine back in Boston, of course, and thank the mighty Lord (again, from an agnostic) there weren't digital cameras or smartphones to document my various indiscreet misdeeds.
Then there is the wedding itself, which I don't remember much of, not because I had too much to drink, but that it was a blur of tuxedo activity and napkin-color decisions. And then there's post honeymoon, where you still coo at each other, and are excited for life for the next 50 years. At this point, ones' couple friends are so happy to have you in the club that there is stuff to do constantly.
Alas, as things went south the past couple of years, things you notice your spouse do and/or have begun to become more significantly irritating, annoying, or downright disturbing. And lest I not judge others, I'm to blame for a great majority of problems. One does not throw stones at plexiglass houses, or something of that irk. But the little idiosyncrasies do add up, and while it's typically on a mutual basis, one does wonder if one of the other fish in the sea may have been preferable to reel up. Unfortunately, yours truly plead ignorance and went off and spawned two wonderful and beautiful children, so I have a lot more splainin' to do than others who recognize, like Scar and Ryan, that things may have been better had we severed the ties earlier as opposed to later.
We live and learn from this. And such, personally, I've come to the terms that all I need is someone to make me laugh, inspire me to do stuff, hopefully love my children, a good roll-in-the-sack quantification, and share the years of life. No more pedestals, peeps -- none of us deserve them. Not politicians, not sports idols, not movie icons, and definitely not an insurance peddler. I probably will still stand agape at other people's peccadillos, but I've matured and have come to terms that it's best to ignore, and not bicker.
Bless Scar and Ryan for their ridiculous chests, abdomens, and other anatomical features. They're also decent actors, so I'll watch them in a film if it interests me. But part of me is also glad that the glamorous can reach a point of no return. It's not just us wee peasants. Best of luck to them both, and they can feel free to help me with my legal payments if they like this.