Chances are, he will fight bitterly against the sectionorce. Just as he was noncompliant in the house, so will he be noncompliant with the court.
The sectionorce will drag on forever. Even the spouse-child’s lawyer will say his client is crazy.
Without anyone to take care of him, he falls apart. Kicked out of his house and with no place to live, it isn’t unusual for the spouse-child to move back in with his mother and start drinking too much.
In short, he goes through what is basically a male version of MAM.
The good news is that he is not a lost cause. Living with his mother and looking into the disappointed eyes of his now-teenage children every other weekend, he realizes he does not want to be a loser. And so he gets himself together. He goes to the gym. He finds a job and his own place to live, learns to do his own shopping and laundry. Thus rehabilitated, he’s ready to get back into the dating pool. And now it is entirely possible that he will end up becoming, yes, one woman’s ex-husband but also another woman’s new guy.
The My New Boyfriend Phenomenon
It was Fourth of July weekend. Over at Kitty’s house we were talking summer goals.
Mine was, as usual, the least admirable: go to parties at rich people’s houses and drink free champagne.
And just like magic, there it was: a text from Max.
He’d suddenly decided to fly in from Spain to go to a tech-boy billionaire’s birthday party in East Hampton and did I want to go?
The next afternoon as I was getting ready to go out, I found myself taking special care in my appearance. Was this a sign perhaps that I was no longer allergic to the idea of meeting someone? This party might be—unlike Kitty’s backyard—an actual place to do that.
Or not.
&nbs
p; Max arrived a bit late and as we hurried into my car, he informed me that he was going to take a chemically manufactured designer drug called Special K and go into a K-hole and I should go with him.
No. “I’m not going to take a horse tranquilizer,” I said.
“Just a little, babes. It’s fantastic. You don’t have to sleep for twenty-four hours.”
“Don’t you realize how horrible that sounds?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Max said. “You used to be fun.”
When my friends would question why I wouldn’t get back together with Max and I said I just couldn’t, this was the reason. I couldn’t travel around the world going to burnings and closings and billionaires’ birthday parties and getting into a K-hole. It just wasn’t the kind of life I wanted to lead.
As we made our way down a quarter-mile driveway that led to the billionaire’s house, we were stopped three times by three different sets of guards who checked our names on the list and shined a flashlight through the interior of the car to make sure we weren’t sneaking in uninvited guests. One even checked the trunk.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” I barked at him. “We’re middle-aged people. Do we look like we’d hide people in our cars?”
The guy shone the flashlight in my face. “You’d be surprised what I’ve seen middle-aged people do.”
The party was in full swing on a large terrace behind the house decorated with holograms and unicorn lights. There was a marble fire pit and two tiki bars and a large patio filled with tables and chairs for dining. Beyond that was a covered tent where a line of caterers prepared dinner. Farther back was an Olympic-size pool with a covered outdoor bar. All ending, finally, in thirty-foot-high hedges.
Max was immediately surrounded by a small group of “burners”—his pals from Burning Man who were dressed like a circus troupe. For some reason, they were younger than I’d expected. Then I realized this was due to my warped perspective. I hadn’t been around thirtysomethings for so long I’d forgotten how young they still looked. And how excited and enthusiastic they were. About everything.
I was definitely going to need a glass of champers to deal with it.
I elbowed through the crowd. More thirtysomethings! But these were the opposite of the burners. These were the super straights. Dressed in button-down shirts and blue blazers, they were Midwest conservatives. Married, with children.
I wondered which direction to go in. To the fire pit, with the people in costumes who were on Special K? Or to the fresh-faced couples full of expectations that it was all going to work out for them?
And suddenly, I’d never felt so out of place in my life. And so very, very—single.
And that’s when I spotted him.
That Guy.