Every time Tom ticks me off I invariably say, “I should divorce you for that!” which invariably makes Tom laugh.
Then he goes off into a fantasy ala Walter Mitty. He wonders what would be the reaction if we did indeed go to divorce court with these frivolous arguments. What follows could be the scenario:
Judge: “All right, why do you want to divorce Tom this time, Glory?” he says in a bored voice (because we’ve been in front of him so often, you see.)
Me: “Well, I recalled several times in the past which I should have divorced him for back then, but I was waiting for now to tell you about them, because all of them put together will surely convince you to give me this divorce.”
Judge: “Oh, goody,” he mumbled. “But we only have time for one today. I have a full docket, after all.”
Me: “Certainly. Okay, when I was pregnant with our first child…”
Judge: “How long ago was that?”
Tom: “She’ll be 30 next July, our daughter Alexis, I mean,” he says, very helpfully.
Judge (Scratching the tip of his pointy chin in an attempt NOT to roll his eyes): “Go on then.”
Me: “I was very pregnant, 8 months on, big as a house and he,” I point at Tom and glare at him for good measure. “He decides to take me to the local carnival.”
Judge frowns: “Is that it?”
Me, rolling my eyes: “Of course that’s not it! Tom was oogling all the skanks we passed as we walked through, all skinny and hot in their mini skirts and barely-legal tank tops.”
Judge, nodding soberly while trying to hide his smirk: “Ah…bad form no doubt, but hardly worthy of divorce.”
Me: “But he was leering at them and wishing he was free of me so he could…”
Tom chiming in: “I wished no such thing! If I wanted them I wouldn’t have married you.”
Me, ignoring Tom: “He wasn’t even listening to me as he drooled, too. He could have at least pretended, with the occasional “Yeah, okay, uh-huh”, so I wouldn’t notice he was leering, but no. Instead he just gapes at the slut brigade and ignores me, his wife, the soon-to-be- mother of his child, the beast! Shoulda walked home from there never to return.”
Tom: “It was too far for you even if you weren’t pregnant.”
Me: “Then I woulda died in the streets and you would have been endlessly happy slutting around without me bitching at you.”
Judge, who banged so hard with his gavel that the wood block bounced off the desk and onto the top of the laughing bailiff’s head: “Enough! Sorry, Jimmy. Okay, no go.”
Me: “May I ask why?”
Judge, cleared his throat: “Cuz if I let you divorce because he looked at a girl while you were pregnant, that would set a bad precedent in which no man would EVER be… you know…allowed to be a man. Heck, I’d be in jail myself, forget about just divorced. No! Divorce denied.”
Tom smirks as we walk out and says, “You’re stuck with me, Babe. Better get used to it.”
“I suggest you shut up, take me home and spend all night making me forget why I wanted to divorce you,” I said, smiling coyly.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
©2017 Glory Lennon All Rights Reserved