So, I am officially divorced now. But we still live together and he still doesn't do what I tell him.
No matter. I have a lover, he has a lover; it's all good.
Except when you see those bricks at a stadium, or a bench at a metro park--with inscriptions dedicated to spouses--and you now know you won't be seeing your name on one.
When I was at the Art Institute of Chicago recently and I noticed a gallery dedicated by a man to his loving wife, I felt sick to my stomach.
Why couldn't I have divorced a rich man?
Reason #584 why I prefer my fantasy life.