It’s almost always the woman who gets screwed in a divorce.  Apparently, one woman took that concept quite literally.  Melinda Brennan, a 46 year old divorced mother of four from Chappaqua, NY (yes, the same town where Bill and Hillary live) was arrested and charged with prostitution.  Police say Brennan advertised on Craigslist offering to have sex for money with “upscale men.”  (BTW, isn’t that an oxymoron—upscale men paying for sex?)  Brennan, a registered nurse, divorced in April and has been struggling to pay the rent.

I guess it would be easy to kick her while she’s down.  Why didn’t she just move to a less expensive town?  Why didn’t she take a second, legal job?  But what strikes me is the lengths to which some women will go to take care of their children.  I can imagine her feeling like the kids had already gone through enough, just dealing with the divorce.  She probably didn’t want to further disrupt their lives by uprooting them and moving to a new town. 

I certainly don’t condone Brennan’s actions, but I do feel sorry for her.  She must have felt completely desperate to resort to such measures.  Sometimes, divorce really sucks!

Has something like this ever happened to you?  One day last week, I bent down to pick up a stack of newspapers for the recycling bin and the next thing I knew, I was writhing on the floor in pain.  I laid there crying for several minutes before I could get myself up and make my way to the couch.  For the next eight days, all I did was move myself from the couch to the floor, and to the bed, trying to find a comfortable position.  

As I was staring up at the ceiling,  I kept thinking about that episode of “Sex and the City” where Miranda, who lives alone, almost chokes.  She basically performs the Heimlich Maneuver on herself and then she calls Carrie, freaking out, thinking she could have died alone in her apartment.  That’s how I was feeling, totally helpless and all alone.  I had visions of being found, laying prostrate on the living room floor having starved to death because I couldn’t get to the kitchen.  But then I realized I was just feeling sorry for myself.  Several friends had called while I was laid up and when I told them what had happened, they all offered help.  I hate to impose, so I declined.  But then everyone called again to check up and  several insisted on coming by—with food, heating pads, and just to keep me company.

Having friends stop by and take care of me made a huge difference.  It made the days go by faster and completely uplifted my mood.  And I realized—my situation really was just like Miranda’s.  Like her, I don’t currently have a significant other and I live alone.  But I’m not alone.  Like Miranda, I have my own Carrie, Samantha, and Charlotte and many more good friends.  Maybe soon there’ll be a Mr. Big.

I recently came across this article about a divorce lawyer in La Jolla, CA who is accused of trying to have his wife killed.  It struck me as pretty ironic — even a divorce lawyer doesn’t want to go through all the legal hassles of a divorce!  He’d rather hire a hit man than hire a lawyer?  Wait, he didn’t even have to hire a lawyer, he could have  represented himself.  It’s a pretty sad commentary on the legal system — there’s got to be a better way.

This is a story which was reported in New York’s Daily News on August 21, 2008:

The saga began after Auguste thought his beautiful 26-year-old wife was cheating on him and he roughed her up, cops said. She reported him for domestic abuse, and Auguste became enraged that she would turn on him after he had bought her the lavish ring and spent some $38,000 on their wedding.

Folks, you can’t make this stuff up. All I can say is— that woman needs a Wedding Ring Coffin!

A funny thing happened on my way to the subway. It was a rainy evening and I had just dropped my car off at the parking garage after spending the day out in the suburbs. I needed to walk over to the subway to get downtown to my apartment. I zigzagged along a few avenues and a couple of streets, all the while holding my umbrella in one hand and my cell phone in the other. As I chatted with a friend, I suddenly noticed someone—NO, it can’t be. At the same moment, he noticed me and started calling my name. I abruptly hung up on my friend and acknowledged him—my ex-husband! In order to understand how slim the odds are of us running into each other, you have to know that not only doesn’t he live in the same city or state as I do, we don’t even live on the same continent. I could have been walking down any one of several streets, but the red and green of the traffic lights determined my route. He had been inside a restaurant having a business dinner but had to step outside to take a phone call from that other continent. We had a brief, perfectly amicable conversation but I walked away feeling a bit unsettled. It’s strange to have such a perfunctory exchange with someone who at one time had been one of the most important people in your life.

One friend immediately said, “synchronicity” when I told her about my accidental encounter. Synchronicity is defined as the coincidence of events that seem related but are not obviously caused by one another. Was it synchronicity? Fate? I guess it must have happened for a reason, but I haven’t figured it out yet.

What sorts of synchronic encounters have you had with your ex?