“Live the Life You Love” returns to NYC
I was taken into chambers and told by the judge that I will sign the agreement or he'd make sure that I got a worse deal on trial. So I told him I had to think about it, he scheduled a hearing for the next day because he was going on vacation and our case was already too long. I was a no show, told my lawyer I had a business meeting and could not get out of it for a 45th appearance at divorce court. I had my lawyer schedule a hearing with the magistrate for the next week and waived my right to be heard by the judge. I told the firm's senior partner that he needed to come personally to ensure "junior" (my lawyer) would finish this up. I told him no more taking revisions back to renege on, bring lots of red pens, we're not doing anymore typing. We spent the day initialing several changes per page on over 90 pages. We went into the magistrate to hear the monotone pronouncement that the divorce is final, god luck in your separate lives. Before that I was asked "do you enter into this agreement on your own free will with out any duress". Hmm I thought, coming to court a few days a week for a month, over 45 appearances in all, the threats in judges chambers, is that "free will"? The magistrate noticed and finally looked up and said "Well", junior was antsy, senior partner looked stern, as I said "I wouldn't call it that". More antsy & stern looks, I responded "On advice of counsel I was told my answer should be yes". The magistrate looked back down on his paperwork, signing & stamping. My ex cried, (she hired the pit bull, she dragged us here) I told my lawyer to offer a reconciliation. He looked puzzled, I said, well? I'd spend the next two years going back to court on things that weren't in the final decree. So it wasn't like a special day. I've been court free for six months now, but its just a break, I know I'll be back... till death due us part. How ironic, marriage is temporary and divorce is forever. Yep, both I and my ex got screwed by lawyers, I guess that makes them -- a word that begins with F.
I got Screwed without even a Kiss!
In the end, it was a lot of paper waving. The lawyers stomped back and forth from our separate glassed conference rooms where I shed buckets of fluids. Agreements were revised. I did not expect the end to be so emotional. I have had 28 months to get over it.
I should get back to therapy.
In the courtroom, my heart nearly pounded out of my chest. I was not composed.
“Talk to me about fairness,” I asked the judge. Your Honor gave me another day to ponder the agreement further.
“You got screwed and didn’t even get kissed,” a friend said.
His attorney represented X on the final day of the divorce. It was the judge’s wife’s birthday. I was asked to be mindful of that. After 28 months, I was holding up the court with my indecisiveness. I drove home alone.
In the car, I listened to some country and western music, lyrics for the downtrodden: Maybe Next Time He’ll Think Before He Cheats; My Give A Damn’s Busted ; I’ll Be Down in Mississippi and Up to No Good; All My Exes Live in Texas, That’s Why I Hang My Hat in Tennessee.
That night, I spent with a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape and my favorite man of the last 28 months, Mr. Tony Soprano. I was asleep by 8:30.
The next morning I cranked up Heart’s Even It Up and planned my New York wardrobe. My hometown posse came over on night two of my new single life. We cooked burgers and told jokes under a surprisingly warm autumn night filled with stars in the sky.
Life is good.
What did you do the day your divorce was over?
I should get back to therapy.
In the courtroom, my heart nearly pounded out of my chest. I was not composed.
“Talk to me about fairness,” I asked the judge. Your Honor gave me another day to ponder the agreement further.
“You got screwed and didn’t even get kissed,” a friend said.
His attorney represented X on the final day of the divorce. It was the judge’s wife’s birthday. I was asked to be mindful of that. After 28 months, I was holding up the court with my indecisiveness. I drove home alone.
In the car, I listened to some country and western music, lyrics for the downtrodden: Maybe Next Time He’ll Think Before He Cheats; My Give A Damn’s Busted ; I’ll Be Down in Mississippi and Up to No Good; All My Exes Live in Texas, That’s Why I Hang My Hat in Tennessee.
That night, I spent with a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape and my favorite man of the last 28 months, Mr. Tony Soprano. I was asleep by 8:30.
The next morning I cranked up Heart’s Even It Up and planned my New York wardrobe. My hometown posse came over on night two of my new single life. We cooked burgers and told jokes under a surprisingly warm autumn night filled with stars in the sky.
Life is good.
What did you do the day your divorce was over?
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