There are many wonderful things about living in a small town. A sense of community. No traffic. Easy to find a parking space. You can drive anywhere in town in 10 minutes or less! People know you..
Which leads to the not so wonderful things about a small town divorce. People know you. They know your X. They’ve heard your story. They repeated your story. And they may not remember all of the details..but they remember the good stuff. The stuff that they can’t help mentioning when you pop up in their day. “You know her…her husband left her for that lawyer. I heard she totally lost it. So sad…” Every time they see you they will think of your ‘story’. You can count on that. And If you ever move forward enough to forget (which is probably very unlikely anyway)..you can count on them to remember.
In a small town you are guaranteed to run into your X. Usually at the most inconvenient times. When you aren’t wearing makeup and you are wearing your oldest pair of yoga pants for the second day in a row. When you are at the restaurant downtown trying to have a glass of wine with friends and just relax. At the bank. At Walmart. It’s a small town…you run into everyone at Walmart. And when you do have this run-in with your X…it sucks. It’s unpleasant. It’s awkward. It leaves me secretly hoping again that he would just move to fucking Alaska already.
You are also pretty much guaranteed a run in with the homewrecker. This is especially fun. You can count on running in to her on a day when you look like you have been run over by a truck. You are frazzled and busy and not even thinking about it…and boom. You are standing in the aisle at the Shoe Store and there she is. Buying boots. In your size. Perfect. I can’t even buy new shoes! It is literally the worst. I still have the overwhelming urge to pretend I have Tourettes and yell Slut. Loudly. I refrain..but barely. (Or maybe I did yell Slut..but I can’t really confirm or deny that story.) I secretly wish her the plague. I give her my bitchiest look. My defcon 5 laser vision burn in hell look. She looks away..
And for some reason people feel compelled to report to me about my X’s activities. Random facts. Completely irrelevant crap. And it still makes me cringe. This is what I mean when I say divorce is never done. We are linked together..not just to us. Not just to our kids. But to everyone in our small town. I don’t want to know that you saw my X drunk somewhere…or that he is a bad tipper. I don’t need to know you saw him at the football game. I don’t care if he was at a meeting you were at. It’s not my business if you think he is an asshole-I’m well aware of that fact already. I could care less about his mother. He left me. I consciously try not to think about him on a daily basis. I don’t need you to remind me.
So what’s a girl to do? It’s a small town divorce. Perfect your smile nod. Hold your head high and wear your cutest shoes. The good news with the current divorce rate..there will be someone new to talk about soon.
That reminds me..did you hear about Mr & Mrs Nextinline?
Divorce Shoes 