I went out for coffee last night with my old buddy Mr Seagull. He’s the one whose marriage is currently following an ever-decreasing spiral in the great toilet bowl of life. The good news is he seems to have achieved some degree of acceptance that Mrs Seagull hates his guts. The bad news is that Mrs Seagull hates his guts.
There has been some progress, however. They’ve agreed to put litigation on the back burner for now and attempt the “mediated settlement” route, but that’s about all they’ve managed to agree on. The main points of contention are that he wants more access to the kids, while she wants to rip his testicles out his arse+ Ain’t love grand?
Unfortunately, my best efforts at offering sympathy and comfort went somewhat off the rails:
“…and that’s the story. I just have to accept that she doesn’t want to reconcile and move on”
“Maybe she just needs more time to think things through?”
“You don’t understand – once she’s decided on something, that’s it. She never changes her mind”
“Oh that’s not true – she seems to have made a rather abrupt about-turn on the whole till death us do part thing… er… so Gibbs made six off six, how about that, hey?”
+ Ja okay, so maybe I’m a bit biased. Sue me. Nooooo, wait! I was joking!!