I’ve been divorced for over two years, so you’d think I’d have the hang of it by now. Take it in stride; not even consider it a factor in my daily life. And that would be great if I could just forget about it. But I can’t because no-one will let me.
It seems like every other minute some institution is asking me to declare my marital status on paper. Be it Citibank or the Blood bank, the DMV or a poll from CMT, every form requires that I check one box: single, married or divorced. And it makes me want to scream. I mean, really! Why do they need this information? What business is it of theirs anyway? Is there actually some reasoning behind what basically amounts to an invasion of my privacy or is categorizing me the result of some bored telemarketer’s wet dream?
And another question begging to be answered is this: how long do I need to be divorced before I can check the single box again? Will never be too soon? Will I forever have to admit, in print, that I failed at my marriage? Am I now and forever going to be forced to wear a Scarlet D on my chest for all-the-world to see? And if I never get married again, when I’m 85 years old, will I still be considered a divorcee? Would the stigma never abate despite copious wrinkles, failing vision and a non-existent libido? I mean, isn’t there a statute of limitations on this whole thing? And, for better or for worse, what difference does it really make what my marital status is? Am I more of a success than a failure if I check one box on a form vs. another?
Perhaps in the end this diatribe is merely an exercise in self-flagellation. Maybe my marital status really doesn’t mean that much in the grand scheme of things or to anyone else in the world but me. I guess all that really matters is that this whole single thing is really working for me and this time around I am doing things differently. I’m ready for everything but not expecting anything at all. I am happy to be free from a life that made me feel like a prisoner in my own skin. I’m a divorcee who is happy being single again. So I ask you: why isn’t there a box for that?