When you get divorced

"You're new, kid, so let me give you a piece of advice." It's the early 1990s, and I am at our local hangout — an upscale bar at the corner of Bay and Wellington called Jump. The trader doling out wisdom is our salesman from Vancouver, and he's flown in on his semi-regular trip to make sure management doesn't forget his face when it comes to bonus time.

"When you get divorced" — and I remember this very clearly — it wasn't "if you get divorced", it was definitely "when you get divorced." The salesman repeated it for effect: "when you get divorced, don't fight. Just give them whatever they want and drive on. You can always make it again."

Geezus. What a weird way to live your life. This old WASP had been divorced like three times, so I guess he knew what he was talking about, but getting halved every decade sure makes it tough to keep your dough.

At the time, I was newly married. Life seemed easy. Things were going well. I was quickly advancing at the bank, and Alyssa's acting career was taking off. We had no kids and were each other's best friends. I don't believe in soul mates or anything sappy like that, so I don't want to ascribe some mystic aspect to our relationship, but we were like an unstoppable duo. I couldn't imagine sharing my life with anyone else, and I was pretty sure she felt the same.

Now, some thirty years later, those feelings are vague memories. Sure, we know each other better than anyone else, but I am not sure we like each other anymore. We don't talk about it. Instead, each quietly fulfills our spousal duties with the monotony that is middle age.

But lately, I have been thinking a lot about that salesman from Vancouver.

Was he correct that the vast majority of us were going to get divorced? Are the ones staying together truly happy, or just more afraid of being alone?

I don't know when Alyssa and I drifted apart. Sure, the incident is central to this story, but if I am being truthful, it started much earlier than that.

It's the strangest thing. One day you're 25 years old and can't imagine spending your life with anyone else, and the next thing you know, it's 30 years later and you can't describe how it went wrong.

— C