Words with "Friends"

Everybody told me things would be better on the other side. It's been almost a week since the matrimonial judge pronounced us man and ex-wife, almost a week since I officially became a free (and presumably wild) divorcee. Yet, as I have almost every day for at least three years, I woke wearing flannel pj's and staring at point blank range into the loaded butt of an obese puggle whose front end was, inexplicably as usual, buried under the covers.

I can handle subtlety, and I certainly don't expect my whole life to do a one-eighty overnight, but at this rate I'll be in a nursing home before anything resembling a peace-of-mind-induced frolic begins in earnest. With my cougar clock ticking, I decided to help things along a bit, and what better way to start than by changing my Facebook status. I went to my "about me" section, and scrolled down to relationship status, all the while feeling a bit squeamish about checking the box next to "divorced." Not because I am afraid of all it's suggestive connotations and the knowing winks and nods, but because my children are my Facebook "friends," for heaven's sake. The last thing they need is to be inundated with a barrage of ill advised -- albeit well meaning -- congratulatory whoops from my other "friends." I thought maybe I could attach a footnote to caution folks away from thumbs upping my good fortune with wild abandon, something like "my divorce is cause for neither celebration nor condolence so please do not comment," but there was no space for elaboration next to any of the status choices. No space for elaboration and, much to my chagrin, no option that read "none of the above" or "none of your fucking business."

I looked to see if any of the other choices might fit my situation. There was the old standby, "it's complicated." That might suggest reconciliation, and lord knows after all we have spent on this divorce it had better take. There were only two that seemed to apply. I could leave things at "separated;" after all, I have long felt detached and removed and a bit insecure, and I don't expect that to change any time soon. Or I could change my status to "in a relationship." More like an eternal entanglement; how can you not be hopelessly and forever entangled when you have raised three kids together? I don't know, maybe in time "divorced" will make sense. Maybe when I stop waking up to a puggle's ass in my face.

Facebook didn't invent the concept of boiling down humans and their relationships into oversimplified words and phrases, but it has certainly helped us to dispense with anything resembling nuance. "Friend." "Like." It's just that our labels used to be more specific. My newly unbetrothed has, for example, worn many etymological hats. Boyfriend, fiance, husband, ex. (Actually, if I were a stickler for precision, there would be even more hats: boyfriend, fiance, ex-fiance, fiance, Christ (that uttered by my mother after she had plunged her head into the oven), husband, estranged husband, husband, soon to be ex-husband, one day maybe (god willing) to be ex-husband, ex. Some labels are tougher to chew on than others. It took me a long time to say "husband" without giggling. After twenty-six years, "ex" does not exactly roll off the tongue. (Of course, neither does "my husband's girlfriend," or, worse still, as choked out by my husband's girlfriend as she was about to undergo a medical procedure and was assured that her "husband" would be waiting, he's "somebody else's husband.") There's a brain twister for everyone. Maybe "it's complicated" was the way to go after all.

These are strange times. Times when "friends" can be enemies, "like" can mean hate, when somebody else's husband waits for you to come out of surgery and when your boyfriend's wife calls to inquire about your condition. A time when everyone is entitled to know your status, even when you yourself cannot figure it out.