The Christian Girl's Guide to Divorce

August 14 is my ex-husband’s birthday.

On August 14, 2010 — the year I filed for divorce — I went on a date and had a wild makeout session with an old college crush. It was the very first time I had kissed another man besides my husband in the heat of passion. I remember feeling exhilarated and awkward. It wasn’t X or his body. It was exciting and strange, all at once; totally unfamiliar. I felt like I was doing something wrong.

I cried the entire next day and never saw the guy again.

2011 saw me finally divorced, traveling and kissing men in France, yet still angry X got away with infidelity and bigamy. In 2012 I was mourning the loss of my first post-divorce relationship.

As the years continue to pass, dates that connect me to X are just not significant anymore. They still exist, but we have both moved on with our lives.

This year, August 14 almost slipped by without incident. I worked a day gig on the Upper East Side and started to pack for my shows in Pittsburgh the following week.

Somehow, I mentioned X to my roommate Christy that evening, as we conversed over a lovely bottle of rose.

“We should raise a glass to him,” she smiled.

“No, I don’t want to do that. Fuck that guy,” I immediately responded, out of habit.

And then I softened.

“No, actually, you know what? You’re right. Let’s toast him. He does not hold the power to hurt me anymore.”

We lifted our glasses into the light. Outside, on 5^th Avenue, sirens from the fire station up the street began to blare. A school of yellow and green taxicabs flashed by in a flurry. A double decker bus full of tourists on a sunset drive floated by. And the trees swayed gently in the summer breeze.

I closed my eyes and let the words fall out of my mouth.

“Here’s to the boy who was;
the boy who is;
and the man whom only God has the power to change.”