DIVORCE MADNESS
Dinner at Vue de Monde
You’ve seen those photographs where the background is blurred, and the only part in focus is the person at the centre of the picture. That was Zoe walking into Vue de Monde, the restaurant where we met. Every other detail of that place blurred as every part of me focussed on every aspect of her. She walked without shame or false modesty, knowing she was beautiful. Sleek with an athletic frame, Zoe had the breasts of a French actress. Small-chested women glanced her way in envy—they knew they were outdone. Looks aren’t everything, and love, it would seem, is far from blind. Across cultures and sexes, some features hold greater appeal. Symmetrical faces emerge as universally attractive (sorry, Picasso), and being fit and having a bit of muscle go a long way in sexual attraction.
My attraction to Zoe was the sanest kind of madness.
Ah, madness, that delightful state where reason takes a vacation, tips generously, and leaves you with the bill. Picture this: you wake up in the morning and decide to floss with spaghetti instead of brushing your teeth. Because why not? Dental hygiene is so passe, really; who needs minty freshness? Madness is when you're convinced that your neighbour's pet goldfish is plotting world domination. You know that little orange swimmer with beady eyes? It probably secretly drafts treaties with rats and forms alliances with pigeons. Soon, it’ll demand a seat in the United Nations. But wait, there’s more! Madness is when you decide to organise your sock drawer by existential dread levels.
The fluffy ones? Existential crisis level: mild.
The mismatched ones? Existential, crisis level: moderate.
And that lone sock without a partner? Existential crisis level: DEFCON 1.
Albert Einstein once defined madness as “repeating the same action, over and over, hoping for a different result.” Madness over your sock drawer is a minor problem, but the madness of family court litigation is another matter. It persists every day because divorced couples cannot get along and cooperate just enough to do a sensible out-of-court settlement that is reasonably fair for both and their children. I recently read in the newspaper that one divorcing couple spent 1.1 million dollars in legal fees fighting over property worth only about 1.8 million. This seems like the definition of madness to me.
And the unethical, unscrupulous, bottom-feeding lawyers converging to extract money from the carnage are part of the problem. The madness of how simple and cheap (minus the wedding) it is to get married and how complicated and expensive it is to get divorced is akin to how both partners are presented as high-functioning and bring with them stories of happy beginnings and miserable endings. The courtroom becomes a stage for dramatically unravelling relationships, where love once bloomed but now festers in bitterness. The madness of the whole process propels people to dysfunctional states that profit no one but the lawyers. It's akin to a temporary form of insanity that arises during the divorce itself and lingers within the ex-romantic relationship like an invisible, toxic mist. This mist distorts reality, hinders healthy impulses, and amplifies pre-existing character flaws. You meet the third person you married. The person they’re going to become in the family court.
The madness of legal costs can be especially bewildering and exasperating. Legal representation during divorce proceedings comes at a hefty price. Lawyers charge by the hour, and their fees can escalate rapidly. The meter ticks relentlessly as they draft documents, attend hearings, and engage in negotiations. It’s not generally money well-spent. It is not uncommon for lawyers themselves to engage in serious misconduct, such as frivolous actions, dishonesty, or malicious conduct. In these scenarios, the madness of divorce costs becomes painfully evident.
That kind of madness detracts from life. What I was experiencing in this restaurant as Zoe walked in was entirely different.
Vue de Monde’s dining room is a canvas of muted tones— soft greys, velvety blues, and burnished gold. Tables, spaced discreetly, boast crisp white linens. Crystal stemware catches the light, and silver flatware gleams. As you settle into your chair, the city unfolds below in a tapestry of lights and life. The ceiling, a celestial map, twinkles with constellations. The hushed murmur of fellow diners only adds to the ambience. And if you’re sitting with someone straight out of a Bond movie, it's even more unreal.
“They’re absolutely bonkers, Evan!” Zoe’s exclamation echoed through the posh restaurant as the waiter guided her to the table. The ambience in Vue de Monde seemed to amplify her frustration.
I could only listen and agree. “Evan, my brother, Vince, and his ex-wife had just finalised their own divorce in Brisbane. Their combined net assets totalled a staggering 1.5 million dollars. You’d think a rational person would accept a fair settlement, right? Well, not her.
The proposed split was already leaning in her favour — 65% to her, 35% to my brother. But instead of gracefully accepting the offer, Vince’s ex embarked on a wild legal spending spree. Picture this: she hired a lawyer who charged more per hour than a private jet rental. And what did she achieve with this pricey legal circus? The same fucking damn settlement she had initially rejected!
It's like watching a courtroom drama scripted by Dr Seuss. The judge must have been wondering if he’d accidentally wandered into a whimsical parallel universe. Perhaps their court stenographer was typing out rhymes instead of legal jargon:
Your Honor, I present Exhibit A: Green Eggs and Child Support. The applicant claims she deserves the golden goose, but the defendant husband argues that the goose is actually a platypus in disguise.” Madness.
As Zoe settled into her chair, she shot me a look, “Welcome to the circus darling.” she said. And we raised our glasses to the absurdity of it all.
Because sometimes life’s plot twists are more nonsensical than a cat in the hat.
(Disclaimer: No goldfish were harmed in the making of this chapter. But their ambitions remain suspect.)