Divorce is so gay

During the past 2 weeks, friends have told me about 4 recently separated couples in our local community. All 4 couples are of the lesbian mom variety. It just so happens, that I don’t know any of them personally. “What?” you ask, “you people don’t all know each other?” Well, my friend, it’s actually not the least bit queer that I am not acquainted with all the gay homosexuals in town. There are a lot of us here, and we don’t all live on the same street. We don’t all shop in the same stores or pursue the same interests. We don’t all have kids who are the same age or at the same schools. Some of us even have straight friends-just for show, of course. And some of us...are you sitting down? Some of us are card-carrying Republicans. I know! Ghastly!

Point is, the gays do not all know each other nor do we aspire to know each other because frankly, the only thing we have in common is that we shtup people with the same parts.. Oh yeah, and we are denied equal rights because we shtup people with the same parts. I personally do not think it’s fair to deny me, Deborah Goldstein, equal rights when I rarely get to shtupping in the first place. Perhaps the federal government could see fit to offer an equality plan for those gay homosexuals who aren’t getting any. The new equality for hard-up gays will allow the nation to take baby steps towards equal rights for all its citizens without going whole hog--like offering a public option rather than single payee health care. I digress.

My point before I started drinking my 4th caffeinated beverage of the day was to discuss Dyke Divorce-family style. I’ll try to reign in my scattered thoughts. When I was around 11 and my mother lamented the state of the Jewish people, I would react to her much like a dog listens to a babbling owner. An ear cocked, an eyebrow raised and utter confusion fogged my already simple mind. She’d wipe her hands on a dish towel, look in the direction of no one in particular and say, “First, the Orientals take the valedictorian spots away from our children in our schools. Now divorce. I am sick about it. I’m absolutely sick about it.” I didn’t get it. “Why are YOU so upset that the Shapiros got divorced? Isn’t it better to be divorced than to stay in an unhappy marriage?” I asked. “Jews don’t get divorced,” she snapped. I’d quickly find somewhere else to be to avoid any further tutelage. This was the same woman who told me that Jews don’t drink, and we know that this information is just plain wrong.

My mother always believed that the Jews subscribe to a higher moral code than the rest of humanity. Any indiscretion was a slap in the face for our people and a punch in my mother’s gut. I tried to ignore her as best I could. Four Dyke Divorces later and I am my mother. I’m gutted that our families are breaking apart. I take each divorce to heart even though I have no connection to these people. Unlike my mother, I don’t hold lesbians to the same standards my mother holds the Jews. That’s just stupid. But I am sad nonetheless.

It’s not easy this gay family business. Being out, loud and proud is challenging enough in this country but having children is an entirely other level of struggle. There’s no dollar store for children, I’ll tell you that much. Anyone, gay or straight who has not been able to or who has chosen not to conceive children on their own, can appreciate the expense and emotional roller coaster ride of fertility treatments or the adoption process or the boundless courage and detailed planning that goes into snatching a small child from an unattended shopping cart. Making gay families is no walk in the park.



There are plenty of opportunities throughout the making of a gay family for either party to pull out-so to speak. I’m not a betting gal, but I’d put money down that none of these women thought to themselves, “I’m going to spend a small fortune and obsess about motherhood for months or even years to have a child with this partner of mine. We’re going to overcome all the legal and administrative hurdles of adoption. We’re going to put ourselves on macrobiotic diets and book our weekly acupuncture sessions and take royal jelly tablets to maximise our chances of falling pregnant. And when we finally have our beautiful child and the family about which we have always dreamed, we’ll re-evaluate our relationship to see if it’s working out.” I can only imagine that these women believed in their hearts that their family would be solid and forever.

I know. I know. No couple thinks this way before having children-gay or straight. I just wanted to believe that if you survived all of that mishigas, you were somehow more committed to your partner than the rest of the married population. I also wanted to believe that my Plantars Wart would just go away on its own. Sigh.

The fact is the gays are no different than anyone else. Why should we be? Wasn’t it a woman wise beyond her years, a sage, in fact, who said, “the only thing that separates gays from the rest of the world is that we shtup people with the same parts”? Who’s to say that Gabriella and I won’t go our separate ways one day? I can tell you now that we’ll be together forever, but I can’t really know for certain. Once our kids are old enough to cook for me, I might not need her hanging around anymore. Gabriella did not care for that bit and asked if I would consider removing it. I told her that I would not remove it, but that I'd be happy to post her disapproval. Open communication is key to a successful marriage.

I would prefer if families were somehow immune to divorce. It would be nice to believe the gays could show the world how it’s done. But it's time to get my head out of that rainbow cloud and come back to Earth. Divorce is not necessarily a bad thing. It could be the beginning of happier days for everyone in an unhappy family. I hope that’s the case for anyone in this situation regardless of shtupping preference. I wish you an easy separation and happier days ahead.