Divorce Party
Friends gave us towels with “Not His” and “Not Hers” written in glittery epoxy, mismatched wine glasses, and CDs in the wrong jewel cases. Eric, a mail-order minister, oversaw our anti-vows and we exchanged plastic gumball machine rings. A year later my ex took a job out of state—a move I blessed out of stupidity and a misunderstanding of the Buddhist tenet of nonattachment. Sometimes, when the hamper is full and the Laundromat too awful to contemplate, I use the “Not Hers” towel, whose words are so rough they leave long, unromantic scratches if I forget to avoid them.
Wonderful
Loved this.
Delightful and creative.