At the suggestion of fellow MFA@FLA alum Michelle Lee, poet, blogger and soon-to-be literature professor, the Divorcee has decided to conceal the identities of our lovelorn advice seekers. See if you can guess our mystery characters, and their identities will be shared next week.
Dear Cranky Divorcee,
I'm so upset, I can hardly tweet. I'm watching the interviews and articles that are covering the globe about me 24-7. I work hard to be hot. But no one appreciates how hard I work. Take my nationally televised wedding, part of my totally successful series of reality TV shows—do you know how much pressure it is to have to do a scene over and over, because Lindsay wanders into the shot, begging to do her Marilyn impression for like the thousandth time, or because the fucking producer (aka my momager) bitches me out for not using my sexy voice?
I’m crying so hard I can’t even remember why I’m writing to you. I just saw a picture online, from yesterday, of me not smiling on the red carpet. Oh my god! I just lost a fake eyelash from wiping away my tears. That’s how bad things are. So, you and everybody else know that I’m getting divorced. Again. Everybody thinks I planned this as a publicity stunt. People talking about whether it’s a publicity stunt is getting me even more publicity. My momager says it’s a win-win situation.
The thing is, I am so misunderstood. I’ve tried to tell everyone, but they just won’t listen. I knew it wasn’t going to work before we got married, but there was so much pressure to have the big televised wedding. I should have picked a sure deal, not some loser free agent whose stupid sport goes on vacation. When do I get a vacation? Believe me, there aren’t any lockouts in reality TV. Anyway, before I knew it, it was too late to back out. Cranky Divorcee, why doesn’t anyone believe me?
-It’s So Unfair
I know that somewhere buried within your character, the one piled with pounds of makeup, squeezed into tight dresses, and slipped into agonizing stilettos, there is the germ of a seed of a real human being.
God knows, I should be crankier. I should give a lecture about the fame-whoring character you play on TV, radio, the internet, and print, or the moral emptiness of a sham wedding. But sometimes, when the stars align just so, the Cranky Divorcee is inclined to be charitable. Gentle, even.
I believe you. As a professional divorcee, I know that feeling, the one that tells you something just isn’t right, and the realization that hits you sometime after the invitations have been sent and before you walk down that aisle. But you go through with it, because everyone’s flown in, the alcohol’s been ordered, and the dress is amazing.
Realize that not many people would have the strength to call off a wedding in your situation. I’d advise you to take a break from the reality rodeo, but we both know that isn’t going to happen. Time heals. In your case, in just 72 days, you’ll have been separated for as long as you were married.
Next:When Requited Love Suck
Dear Cranky Divorcee Lady,
I don’t really know how much advice you can really give me, considering we live in totally alternate realities, but I’m desperate enough to ask. The problem is that the girl I love also loves me. Doesn’t sound like much of a problem, I know. But hear me out. I loved her for years, and then all this really fucked up worker stuff happened, and I turned her into a cat. But I sorted that out—I’m good at getting out of sticky situations. It’s sort of a family trait.
I wanted this for so long. But she doesn’t love me because she wants to. She loves me because my mom, who just got out of prison, decided to give me a nice present. Her idea of a nice present is using her ability to make people feel things--to make this girl fall in love with me. My options are:
A) Get my mom to reverse the emotion, leaving this girl hating my guts.
B) Go with it, ignoring the fact that the feeling could wear off at some point and then I’d be truly fucked.
C) Run far, far away, and never come back.
What are my odds?
The answer is D: none of the above. Find a charm to break the emotional spell your mom put on this girl, and you’ll be all set. Speaking of your mom—you need to nip that problem in the bud. You’ve got tremendous power. Why don’t you use a little of it to help your mom see reason? Turn her into a fish for a few days, and she’ll think twice about doing something this stupid again.