I would like to first thank the Joneses.
Thank you for allowing me to keep up with you all these years. Thank you for the anxiety, the insecurity, and the constant comparisons.
Thank you for not disclosing my financials—especially at parties!
You did me a solid—fuh real.
It’s been a pleasure to chase you, to check all the boxes, play all the parts, please all the people, and cultivate my image here in this gorgeous suburban mecca.
You pushed me to be better. In fact, I was better. At least in my head—an unstoppably good version of myself, full of riches and wealth as I headed toward my dream of becoming a Jones of my very own!
And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids. (Sorry, no, that’s from a piece I’m writing on “Scooby-Doo.” But wait, if the meddling kids were lawyers, maybe this would be valid!)
Now, dear Joneses, I must say goodbye to you—every last one. But before I do, I would like to borrow the words of Cuba Gooding Jr.:
“Everybody who’s involved with this! I love you! I love you! I love you!”
Welcome to Divorce Kit For Man, Part One: The Essentials.
We have lots of ground to cover, across many subsequent parts, so this first one is a teaser, if you will—a playful look at the devastation caused by divorce in today’s day and age.
And, please don’t take offense ladies. This one is…“for the boys.” After all, I’ve written this on a Saturday.
Let’s start with the basics—the essentials for man.
Commencing the obvious, we’ll start with Ray-Ban.
An every day jacket, that gives you a hug—
This is your armor; you’ll want that fit snug.
Get a cheap time piece, with mix-and-match bands,
And go get a manicure—take care of your hands.
We’ll come back to the clothing, and fix you some style,
But let’s jump ahead—you’re gonna be here a while.
Eliminate bulk, in people and things.
Some of this will be natural; it’s divorce, and it stings.
Let the sh*t fall; a lot of things will.
You have to, my friend; this is the drill.
Back to the wardrobe: you can’t be in tatters.
You need to feel confidence. Trust me; this matters.
Get some new items, so you’re feeling your best.
Keep some of the old sh*t, but get rid of the rest.
You don’t need to be minimalist, but you will want to shed;
You’ll want to be lighter, and clear in the head.
If you’re physically able, I’ll tell you to lift.
Get into the gym—working out is a gift.
If you feel rather lonely, consider a dog.
You’ll need a companion who is good in the fog.
I know of some people who can get you a pup.
They’re based in Aruba, and they’ll hook you up.
Hold off on tattoos, and permanent ink.
Take this time to reflect, and use it to think.
You’re on a new path now—you’ve finished your prequel.
Be open to newness, and welcome new people.
You may have some challenges, like eating and sleep.
Try a new mattress, though I know they’re not cheap.
Perhaps a new pillow is all that you need.
And please shut the phone down—this I will plead.
Go on a vacation, but one within reach.
Relax and recharge—just sit on the beach.
You can try meditation to stabilize fears,
But don’t block emotions, it’s okay to have tears.
You’ll need nature and music, and water and air,
To feel sand on your feet, and wind in your hair.
Notice the small things, like the sounds of the night.
And the warmth in a text, “Are you doing alright?”
The friends that check in, as you battle each day—
These are your pillars, the ones who will stay.
And on that note, let’s pause to appreciate life—
Your courage and strength to live without strife.
It’s a beautiful day out, a good day for a tan.
This was part one: the essentials for man.
Be prepared for part two; we’re gonna go deep.
But for now, a ride, with my dog, in my Jeep.