In All the Wrong Places

Guys, I am SO excited to launch my new blog on March 1st.  I can't wait to find out what you all think of the story.  It follows Jenna, a recently divorced 29-year-old woman who is living in Minnesota and trying to figure out how put her life back together. Unlike Liv's story, there is no life-altering move across the country, no devastatingly handsome, wealthy man to sweep her off her feet, and no guys falling all over her every time she turns around.  In short, it's a little more realistic.  

I have about half of the first post for you guys here as a sneak peek.  If you like what you read, please head over to https://inallthewrong-places.blogspot.com/ on March 1st to read the entire first post!

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“I’m getting a divorce,” I said matter-of-factly into the phone.

            “Jenna, what are you talking about?”  Chelsea sounded confused.  And she should be.  She had no idea that I was unhappy in my marriage, much less that I had been considering getting divorced from my husband of just less than five years. 

            “Actually,” I corrected myself, “I am divorced.”  The divorce was finalized yesterday, four weeks exactly after the day we stood in line to sign our do-it-yourself divorce agreement in front of the court administrator.

            “I don’t understand,” Chelsea muttered, dumbfounded.  “You guys were just here two months ago.  You were fine then.”

            “No, we weren’t fine then,” I admitted.  “We haven’t been fine for almost two years.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.  She had progressed from confused to angry, and I can’t say I blamed her.

            “Because I didn’t tell anyone,” I lied.  That wasn’t true.  I had told two people.  But Chelsea, my best friend since Kindergarten, didn’t need to know that.  All it would do was hurt her feelings.  The truth was that Chelsea hadn’t picked up on my subtle hints that things weren’t perfectly pleasant in my world.  She was too busy being head over heels in love with her shiny new husband, and it never seemed like the right time to tell her.  And really, is there any such thing as the "right time" to tell someone you think you might want to divorce your husband?

            “But what happened?”  She was back to confused, and I debated what to tell her.

            “I’m not sure.”  Another lie.  “We just…I guess we just don’t love each other anymore.”  Not a lie.  Not the whole truth either.

            “But did he cheat on you?  Did he hit you?  There has to be a reason!”  The pendulum swung back towards anger, this time tinged with incredulousness.  

            “No.” Blatant lie.  “And no.”  Truth. 

            “So you just don’t love each other anymore?  And that’s it?  That’s not a very good reason to get a divorce,” Chelsea admonished. 

I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me.  “Who gave you the authority to decide what good reasons to get a divorce are?” I snapped.  I was quickly losing my patience. 

“Jenna, I’m sorry,” she said contritely.  “I’m just trying to understand.  From my perspective, this is all very sudden and doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“I know,” I replied.  I didn’t say anything else, and we were both silent for long enough that it started to get uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” she asked finally—the first bit of sympathy she’d shown since I’d dropped the bomb on her.

“I am,” I said.  “I really am.  I’m…well, it’s better this way.”  And, on some level, I was okay.  I didn’t want to be pitied.  I didn’t want to be coddled.  I wanted to put this part of my life behind me and move on to something (hopefully) better. 

“What can I do?”

“Nothing!” I chirped brightly.  The brightness, just like half of my statements in this conversation, was a bald-faced lie.  “Maybe we can get together sometime soon, though?”

“Definitely,” she agreed.  “Maybe after the holidays?”  She reminded me that Christmas was in three weeks.  Merry Christmas to me!  How do you wrap a divorce? 

“Sure,” I replied.  “We’ll plan something soon.”  

With that, we finished up our bizarre conversation and hung up.  The conversation would have gone much differently if I had told her the truth about my divorce.  About how I’d caught him cheating—again—two Februaries ago.  About how we’d gone to counseling, where he’d acted ashamed and contrite and apologetic.  About how the writing was on the wall, but I couldn’t seem to read it.  About how I had spent the last two years married to a man I didn’t trust who continued to cheat on me up until the day I had finally reached my bullshit limit.

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That's all you get for now!  I hope you're all excited to read more because I'm definitely excited to share more.  As always, thanks for being the best readers--it's because of you guys that I want to keep sharing more of my writing!