Sixteen years have passed since I wrote “The Morning We Told the Kids” which was my account of how we told our kids that their Daddy was moving out of the house. My wife at that time, Amanda, was involved with our daughter’s teacher and our marriage was finished.
My daughter, Jordana, is now 24 and my son, Dash, is almost 22. Divorce from Amanda came and went and I just concentrated on being calm and learning to live alone again. Labels don’t suit me and “single, middle-age man” (SMAM) I really didn’t appreciate, particularly when one of my mates asked “so what do you think you’re worth on the open market?” Lots of men go to pieces when confronted with divorce and questions like that one have to be answered. “So are you overweight, balding, unhealthy, uninteresting, a poor cook with lots of baggage? Mate, I hate to say it but if that describes you, you’re worth f…all!”
My wise old Mum said to me, “you’ll end up with 50% of nothing.” She was correct. I kept my very small printing business and also worked in a bakery 5 nights a week. The kids were kept in their private school as most of my money went on their education. I rented a tiny unit and the kids slept on the floor when the fortnightly visits came around. If Amanda needed a babysitter I always volunteered. I never missed an opportunity to see them; school plays and sports days, I was always there.
Throughout the next few years I attempted to regain some financial ground but after having 2 houses when I was single and 35 years old to suddenly having a bank balance of only $1000 was difficult to comprehend. During this time women became more and more appealing. In every woman I met I managed to find something attractive. I worried that I was mentally unstable or flawed in some way. I often asked women, who I had only met once, out to dinner. Most astonishingly of all, about 10 of them seem to find the idea quite pleasant. One lovely girl who worked in my bank was one of them. After taking her to lunch, I rang the next week to ask her to dinner. “I looked up your records in the bank ’’ came the cool response, “you’re the same age as my father!” So that was the end of her
but after 3 years of actually enjoying being a “SMAM” with 2 kids, I met and fell in love with a lovely woman who was a little nearer my age. We were married 6 months later. She has loads of love and patience and understanding, unlike Amanda. Jordana and Dash moved in with us for a few years after they experienced trouble and disharmony with Amanda’s new husband (not the teacher).
I have now worked 2 jobs for 10 years and still can’t see daylight. My darling wife works as well of course and we have just had our 11th anniversary. Eleven very happy years but with very few holidays. Jordana is a financial controller and H.R. officer while Dash has almost finished his Nursing degree. I’m really proud of them. They are both independent and free-spirited. I know they love me. They even admit to respecting me, which is really saying something these days. So divorce is not the end. It’s the restart of another life for you. Being a serious marathon runner I live and train with the simple motto, “There is no finish line.”
John A Wilson, April 2004, Gold Coast
Comments