Hello, blogging world. My name is denouement32, and I’m a divorcè. (Collective: Hi, denouement32!) I’ve been single for 5 days now. (*Smattering of applause*) Thank you, thank you. Yep, taking it one day at a time, and my first step towards being single is to acknowledge my status publicly.
My second step, according to this (glancing back at pamphlet), is to make fun of my divorce experience… which I’m ready to do today. *clears throat* Okay, I thought I’d save money by doing my own paperwork. While tedious, it’s certainly not impossible. I’m also a stickler for detail, so I got everything perfectly formatted, including the font size. When I turned it in, the lady behind the window even asked me if I was an attorney. Whatever law firm allows you to conduct business in sweatpants is my kinda job, I tell ya! But I said no, and she looked surprised. Now that I read this back, maybe it says more about her than it does me.
Moving forward (60 days forward, to be exact), I showed up looking MUCH nicer in business attire for the divorce finalization. I sign in, and this county clerk is making mincemeat out of anyone who doesn’t have their collective shit together. I’m telling you, for a Hispanic woman in her late 20’s and no taller than 5’3″, she was a TYRANT. Dude. Don’t let the height fool you, she had big brass ones. For example (this really happened):
Older Gent: Here’s my paperwork.
Clerk (glances over it): Sir, this waiver isn’t in the correct format. If you go to the Law Library, they have the correct format to use. Do it over and get it notarized again.
Older Gent: Are you sure? Because someone downstairs gave me the format and told me it WAS the right one–
Clerk: Sir, NO ONE gives format paperwork to ANYONE in this building. We don’t do that. In fact (glances back at papers), this looks like something you came across on the INTERNET. So, (eyebrows raised, speaking as though to a 6-year-old) go to the Law Library, and the people there will help you find the correct formatting. Okay? And don’t forget to notarize it. Okay?
Older Gent: (mumbles incoherently as he sulks away)
That floored me. I was officially intimidated. I’m barely on the right side of 30 and am bigger than this chick by a good 60 lbs. and 3″, yet I was worried about having my ass handed to me. That feeling doesn’t suit me well. So I was dripping politeness when I handed her my paperwork, even making a point to initiate “good morning”s with her.
She barely looked at me, checked out my paperwork, had me fill out a form, and told me to have a seat. That’s it. I felt like a punk.
Three other people went before me, and they all had lawyers. Each case took roughly 1 1/2 minutes, I kid you not! The lawyers asked their client a series of Y/N questions, the judge declared them divorced from their absent spouse, badda-bing, badda-boom, done. It was sort of sad, really, the cold efficiency of it all. My turn; I was called to approach the bench, and the judge saw I had no lawyer.
“So, you’re representing yourself, then?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge put his pen down, folded his hands, and said “Ok, go ahead.”
UHHHHHH…
“I’m not sure how to proceed, Your Honor…” was all I could think to say.
“That’s ok,” the judge replied, gave me a ‘just fucking withcha’ smile, and proceeded to take my hand, walking me through the process. He only asked me about 4 questions, one of which was “Are you sure you want to get a divorce?” Um, yeah.
The time it took my wedding party to walk down the aisle took longer than my divorce. About a minute later and I was single again. Yay, us. I called my now ex-husband about his new freedom, and his response?
“Oh good, I can hit on chicks again. Hey, there’s this movie I wanna see this weekend, wanna come with?”
The movie was “A-Team”. It was awesome, by the way.
(Not my cake. Not even my metaphorical situation. Just thought it was a funny cake to post.)
Striving For a Good Denouement 