I’ve been slammed into the concrete highway. One day, I’m a happily married man driving down the road, not a care in the world. The next day, I’m deadheading back home, where my lovely wife is waiting with divorce papers. I have to be honest: I never saw it coming. She says she’s been trying to tell me for about a year, but I don’t get it. Was I supposed to just guess that she’s miserable with me? Follow the clues? Figure it out from a series of long sighs and phone calls that hang up when I answer? Oh, right. Stupid me. I thought “till death do us part” really meant something.
Well, there’s nothing I can do now. But I have to say, I’m never going to get married again. I’m never going to fall in love again. I’m done with all of that. I’m going to drive my truck and that’s it.
So don’t give me a bunch of advice about getting out there again. Because it’s not going to work. Besides, all you women stick together.
Well, ahem, I’m sorry for your loss. Truly. You sound like you got the shaft. I’m not going to tell you to get out there, because I don’t want you to inflict your anger on some unsuspecting woman. But I do suggest you take a deep breath – in, out, in, out. OK? Just because you lost this round doesn’t mean the game is over. Of course, you could resign from life and love, or you could accept that things end, relationships crumble, love gets hijacked. Lick your wounds, listen to all the heartbreak songs on your satellite radio, and then let it go.
I’m just say’n.
I really don’t appreciate the sarcastic tone you use in this column. I’m sure you think it’s funny and clever, but sometimes you seem like you don’t really care about the people who write to you.
Oh dear, I didn’t mean to give the impression I don’t care. Of course I care. I just don’t think dwelling on a problem or over-thinking it to death gets you anywhere. I give advice as if I was sitting at the truckstop, having a cup of coffee with you. You’d tell me your problem and I’d tell you to buck up, put on a smile, try harder, say you are sorry, promise yourself to do better, make healthier choices, choose kindness, let go of anger and above all, stop making the same bad decisions over and over again. And I’d just about always tell you to get the heck off the couch, slow the heck down and blow your airhorn if a little kid asks you to.
Thank you for your private e-mail to me last month. I’m the one who told you I was at the end of my rope and would never come out of the depression following me everywhere I went. I did what you said. I went to the pound, rescued a mutt and then met a cute girl who works at the vet’s office! We’ve had a few dates, and while she’s not the love of my life, she puts a smile on my face. I was going to name my mutt “Carolyn” but decided on “Barky” instead. (Nothing personal.)
Thanks again. I’ve got a dog I love and a girlfriend I like.
P.S. The dog is part Labrador, part German shepherd and probably a little bit poodle. The poodle part reminds me of my ex-girlfriend.
I aim to please. But really – Barky?
I’m just say’n.
Carolyn Magner is not a professional therapist, shrink or even a very nice person. Her advice is meant to entertain you, not solve your terrible, desperate problems. Nothing shocks her. If you are really in trouble, please call someone who has gone to school for a long time. E-mail Carolyn at firstname.lastname@example.org.