While Sitting in the "Cone of Silence"

I talk to a lot of divorced men. Something about being single and 35. And I always take their stories with a grain of salt . . . figuring that there are two sides to every story I hear (and sometimes three or four). I never get to hear the ex-wife, but know I would present my story in a way that is favorable to me. We all do it to some extent. It's psyche preservation.

And I don't really want to hear from the ex-wives anyhow. Not even curious. Well, maybe with that one . . . and the moving away to live in the single wide with the "platonic" friend and the goat . . . but just because it's such an interesting story.

And unfortunately, the stories are very similar . . . married in our twenties . . . thought I knew the girl . . . people change . . . she doesn't want to be married anymore . . . she left.

With a smattering of infidelity mixed in.

And as someone who really wants to be married, I never understand the motivation. As someone who really wants children, I can't understand why anyone would leave them. And so I listen to the stories and hope that there is another side. A rationable, reasonable side . . . though not too reasonable (like he beat me) because I'm probably about to go out with the storyteller.

And then I went to Starbucks today and my fears were realized. (No, I didn't run into anyone's ex . . . but that would have been fun, wouldn't it?) People talk on their cell phones like they are in a magical "cone of silence" somehow and the woman next to me . . . she is leaving her husband. She knows that it is at least 50% her fault, but she can't be married anymore . . . just can't. And single people, they can do anything, you know . . . they can be authors and . . .

The whole time, her toddler is sleeping in his mega-mobile stroller.

And he wants to sell the house . . . and she could get a pretty good job . . . and yeah, I've thought about marriage counseling but really, what's the point?

I wanted to snatch her parenting license away . . . until I realized that there is no parenting license. A woman on her cell phone telling her friend that she was leaving her husband. Not because he was mean, or beating her, or for any other good reason that I can't think of right now, oh, like cheating on her . . . just because she didn't want to be married anymore. And those single people . . . yeah, well, they have it so good.

I really wanted to turn and tell her about being single, but I talk to strangers too much about things they don't want to hear. So I held my tongue. I didn't tell her that she could be whatever it was that she so wanted to be . . . and she could still be married doing it. I didn't talk to her about the stress and needless crap that her two-year old was going to go through because she just didn't feel like staying married anymore. Didn't talk to her about the dating pool for 35 year old women, like ourselves, who would all be men like her husband . . . except a little more angry because they had found someone that they wanted to commit to . . . and that other woman didn't feel like being married anymore either.

I really didn't want to think that the stories were true. And yet, here, in the seat next to me, was the confirmation . . . gabbing into her cell phone . . . surrounded by her imaginary cone of silence. And I felt horrible. And sad. For all the stories that I have heard.

And I think I should get props for slipping a "Get Smart" reference in . . . and not hitting anyone at the Starbucks.