Divorce

Divorce is a hot topic. From conscious uncouplings to trial separations, celebrity divorces dominate headlines. As a happily married late 20-something, I’m fascinated by how love, marriage and the dissolution of marriage have evolved over time.

I caught wind of HBO’s new series Divorce because of one of its Executive Producers, Sharon Horgan. Her work on Pulling and Catastrophe perfectly reflect my sense of humor. She’s tackled love and marriage, so perhaps divorce was the natural next step. It also didn’t hurt that Sarah Jessica Parker (SJP) was billed as the show’s star.

I found time on a Sunday to watch the early premiere of the series on HBO Go, and was really pleased. SJP broke free from her mold as Carrie Bradshaw, introducing viewers to an equally complicated lead named Frances.

The show is charming and rugged — kind of like 90s grunge — set cozily in the swanky suburb of Hastings-on-Hudson. The first episode established a lot of foundation while confronting major issues. Viewers were also treated to a darkly comedic side of Molly Shannon, whose character is both wildly dysfunctional and likable at first glance. She’s the friend whose safety and sanity you fear for, all while fiercely protecting her.

I’m excited to see how each character evolves. Thomas Haden Church and Flight of the Conchords’ Jemaine Clement add just the right amount of complementary quirk to the rest of the ensemble. 

While SJP’s celebrity friends helped raise awareness for the show’s early premiere — her interview with Eva Chen was a favorite of mine — I also happened upon an unrelated installment from The Guardian called “The Moment Our Marriage Was Over” that really struck a chord with me. Couples shared sincerely touching essays about the vulnerable moments when they knew their marriages were over.

We focus so much on the romantic part of love and marriage, but there’s a functional component — almost like how leadership factors into management — that doesn’t get the same level of limelight, perhaps because it’s the most painfully relatable element.

I love my husband dearly, but the highs and lows captured even in the first episode of Divorce will surely resonate with every couple, and inspire at least a little bit of sympathy and quite a few laughs.

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Love, Marriage and Politics

Working in public relations, especially on the digital end of the spectrum, I’m no stranger to keeping my politics private. Most people who know my husband and me, know that we have wildly opposing political views, and wonder how in the world we make our marriage work.

Early on in our relationship, I dedicated lots of time to polishing Adam’s rough edges. Don’t get me wrong; he’s brilliant. Really and truly. But he’s strong-willed. Deciding to get married on the heels of an election year, I never thought I’d have so many, “Shit Republicans Say” reactions to his political commentary.

Love is funny, though. I’ve kept him up until the wee hours of the morning following debates to extend my soapbox, and he’s engaged me, exhausting his talking points in hopes of tuckering me out. He’s not often successful.

We make it work for two reasons. The first, and perhaps most important is that at the foundation of our marriage is a mutual respect. We respect each other’s opinions, because they’re not sound bites. Second, and still important, is that our political positioning, though inherently opposite, overlaps and aligns on issues that have the potential to directly impact us as a unit.

I sometimes wonder if our marriage is actually stronger because our views differ. Either way, it certainly keeps conversations interesting.

Coupling in the Kitchen

Big city living comes with many little conveniences – many of which are just a click or tap away. After years of sending out laundry and ordering groceries via delivery – I’m a loyal Instacart user – I’m actually convinced that there’s nothing that can fully alleviate the typical moans and groans of living in New York.

I don’t even really live in the city proper. Just outside of Manhattan, Adam and I have nestled comfortably into the Queens County neighborhood of Astoria.

I’ve tested the boundaries of my budget over the years as I’ve developed adult independence. I’ve reasoned away from the lack of logic behind thrice weekly orders from Seamless, and especially since partnering up with Adam, I’ve rekindled my love for cooking.

No matter where I’ve lived, my kitchen has always served as the heart of the apartment. And so when Adam and I moved in together, our kitchen became the place where we were able to find time to chat and unwind. The bedroom is for sleeping, the living room is for binge watching Netflix (smart TV=best purchase EVER) and the kitchen – well, the kitchen is for congregating.

We recently subscribed to Blue Apron and Plated, and it’s really been our way of doing something together – sometimes in a “lord, give me the strength” kind of way – and learning how to communicate through challenges – chopping fennel is harder than it looks!

When I married Adam, I promised him that we’d do adventurous things, but that we’d also define adventure together. I like to think that our culinary adventures keep us on our toes throughout the week, priming us for the real adventure that is simply living – read: surviving – life in New York

brie grilled cheese

We’re Not Best Friends

Relationships are weird. We’re fed so many different fairytale scenarios about courting and falling in love from movies and TV shows, that when our respective stars don’t quite align as such, we begin to question everything about our bond with our beloved.

I remember when I told Adam he wasn’t my best friend. He was devastated. He replied with some textbook line about how couples are supposed to be best friends. I think my retort was less based in rhetoric, and more in hysterical laughter.

My best friend’s name is Emily. I’ve known her since she was born, and she was the maid of honor in our wedding. She’s the only person on the planet who I can unconditionally confide in, and who I know will always tell me the truth, regardless of whether it will hurt.

Adam is my partner. I used to find it odd when friends or colleagues would refer to their significant other in this way, but I’ve since changed my mind. I’m all about the partnership. (Ironically, the concept of partnership in the vein of collaboration is a key mantra at the company I work for and love).

To be partners in life is to accept, together, anything that you encounter — to explore and to navigate the world together, and most importantly, to build a life together on equal footing.

When I think about my partnership with Adam, I reflect on the vows we wrote jointly, and exchanged on our wedding day:

  1. Do you promise to be a loving friend and partner in marriage?
  2. Do you promise to treat each other with kindness, respect and appreciation?
  3. Do you promise to make laughter an integral part of your family?
  4. Do you promise to listen and learn from each other, support each other, and accept each other’s support?
  5. Do you promise to bear together whatever trouble and sorrow life may lay upon you both, and share together whatever good and joyful things life may bring you?

Partnership and togetherness were at the heart of each question. Adam’s not my best friend. He’s my partner. He’s the person I never want to say goodbye to – only good morning and good night.