Breaking up is fun to do
A group of girlfriends met at the local pub last Friday night “ the first of a new tradition weve created, ˜First Friday of the month drinks at the local. Its not a hip pub, its fairly non-threatening and there are comfortable chairs. Its never normally packed and the musics not so loud you cant hear yourself speak. Sounds quite dull actually but its better than staying home and bickering with the family.
Everyone was very excited about the ˜outing at the beginning of the week but as the days wore on, one by one, the excuses kicked in. Taking kids to hockey/swimming (insert appropriate sport), husbands got suspected Swine Flu, and the most honest, cant be bothered. But then another girlfriend rang with her excuse. ˜Im off to my first divorce party at a seedy Kings Cross nightclub.
Woo-hoo, I thought. I wonder what one does at a divorce party, besides drink copious amounts of alcohol and tell humiliating stories about the ex? I had visions of women throwing darts at a cardboard cut out of the bastard and sticking pins in the eyes of voo-doo dolls. ˜A real outing, to the city, I enthused. ˜What does one wear to such an occasion? ˜Plastic beads shaped like penises around our necks, for starters, replied my fashion conscious friend.
˜Take photos, I insisted.
After that phone call, I was so intrigued, I googled divorce parties and got 7,570,000 hits in zero-point-two-seven seconds! I found that specialised divorce party planners (there are hundreds to choose from) will organise your celebration, including everything from suggested decorative themes and cakes, to advising guests on divorce party etiquette and gift ideas. Wedding ring coffins, anyone? Imagine having a job as a divorce party planner? What training would you need? Is being a divorcee a prerequisite? Touted as freedom celebrations, it appears a lot of women across the globe are eager to reinvent themselves after signing the final paper work signifying their divorce.
The dirt on divorce parties
I spoke to my friend the following Monday morning. ˜So, how was it? I asked her.
˜Okay. We ate dinner, shared a couple of bottles of wine. I was home and in bed by eleven. We all had to take the kids to netball the next day.
˜What about the seedy night club? The penis necklace?
˜The club was too loud, too crowded. And, she looked at me sheepishly, ˜I ditched the beads before I sat down to dinner. I kept the Forget About Him bracelet on, though.
˜No voo-doo dolls, then? I pushed.
˜Lisa, you really need to get out more.
By the way, I did go to Friday night drinks at the local. There were three of us. We stood around, staring at vaguely familiar faces, tapping our foot to the juke-box pumping out eighties classics and drinking mid-priced Semillon Blanc. I was in bed (my own marital bed, thank-you very much) by ten-thirty. I had the boys soccer the next morning!
By Lisa Heidke on Monday, August 31, 2009 and filed under 'Family' | (3)
Authors Website: http://www.lisaheidke.com
Profile: After growing up in Brisbane, I ran away to Sydney, via London, and worked in book and magazine publishing. After many years living in the inner west, I woke up one morning to find myself married with three children and living on the North Shore”much to my surprise. I spend my days following the sunshine, with my head in my laptop, drinking cups of tea and writing about everyday women and their triumphs, tragedies and peculiarities. My first book, Lucy Springer Gets Even (Allen & Unwin) was published in January this year and my next one, Kate Cavendish Gets A Life (working title) should be out in time for Christmas.
Love this article/blog? Click here to have them sent direct to your inbox.
We hear you! Tell us what you think about this article.
3 Responses to “Divorce parties”
Leave a Reply
Don't have a gravater?. Visit gravatar.com to create yours for free.
* indicates a required field.