So, this is a thing now: like a baby shower or a bridal shower, you can now throw yourself a divorce shower. (This according to Apartment Therapy and, sort of, The New York Times, so it must be true.)
For the divorcée, I think, this makes a lot of sense. Usually a rather depressing affair, I hear—so why not have a little fun? Surround yourself with close, supportive friends, and acknowledge the thing outright? You can deck yourself out with incredibly wasteful and tacky items from—I’m not kidding here—The Divorce Shower Store, and get good and drunk.
Even better: you can get consolation presents, stuff you actually need now that your hubby just walked away with half you possessions. True, your closet’s probably intact (less true for those of us who have skinny boyfriends and a lot of androgynous clothing). But you probably don’t have double furniture and kitchen supplies (unless you stashed your old ones in a storage locker, you sneaky pragmatist, you). This is your big chance to cash in on well-deserved sympathy, and not be reminded of your pain every time you need blender.
For the friends of the divorcée, well, I’m still on the fence. As a young twenty-something who, as you may have guessed, writes for a living, I don’t exactly have a lot of cash lying around. I couldn’t even afford to fly to my boss’s wedding (and given how much skeet shooting went on, I was pretty sad to miss it), and she of all people should know how little money I net. My point is this: other people’s marriages are expensive for the rest of us. It’s an increasingly common conversation among my friends, even those with, shall we say, real jobs. Although I’d feel less societal pressure to fly across the country for a Divorce Shower than for a wedding, divorce is when a friend actually needs you around. And, apparently, needs cookware of her own. If you’re throwing yourself a Divorce Shower, just be conscious that some of your friends are still riding that post-housing bubble/recession wave.
Then again, maybe by the time my friends start getting divorced, even I’ll have a real job, and then everyone will be treated to a I’m-sorry-your-heart’s-broken blender.
Been to a Divorce Shower? Let us know how that is here or on Facebook.