The Seven Degrees of Separation

There are seven degrees of separation between marriage and divorce.

Togetherness: Stage One is when two people are very "together" - from going to the movies and listening to music, to even grocery shopping (dear God!) you want to do it together. There are long walks, drives, chats, you share every part of your life and being with each other. You feel connected in impossible ways to each other, can almost hear the other think, and don't need to speak to communicate. Life together is full of adventure and excitement and you can't wait to wake up in the morning or go to bed at night because both of you bring that kind of joy into each other's existence. In short, you don't need anyone else in the world to feel alive. Whatever differences you have, you either gloss over or, if you are a highly evolved couple, you try to sort out to find a middle ground on which to meet. Two people have to remain on the same page to remain in Stage One till death do them part. But both of them have to work at it every single day. To create the little surprises that bring a smile into the other's eyes. To reach for each other constantly and to be there for the other through thick and thin. To be completely honest with each other without forgetting that honesty needs to be tempered with kindness. This is the stuff that fairy tales are made of. This is living happily ever after. While everyone aspires for this, very, very few people can actually honestly live it.

Routine: Stage Two is when routine takes over. You settle into domesticity, take the other for granted. There are days of shared joy, many things that you still run to the other with. Often this happens when children have been born. There is still a common space, meals are shared, you may ask how the other's day went and really listen till the children interrupt. For many couples, Stage Two works just as well as Stage One and they can live out the rest of their lives without moving to the next stage. These people can grow old together and even mourn the other's death, but in essence, their spirits are no longer bonded in the deepest possible sense. More evolved people see their lives slipping into Stage Two and take measures to go back to Stage One. It keeps both alive and together.

Boredom: Stage Three is when routine transforms into boredom. The other is no longer the stimulus of great joy, perhaps on really rare occasions do you feel anything resembling tenderness. This is when friends start becoming important to you. You reach out to friends for those adventures, those long walks and drives, and more and more the "other" is someone you go home to for safety and security, but beyond that there are not many shared moments or spaces. Differences of opinion are settled by agreeing to disagree. You continue to cohabit sometimes for the children, sometimes because you need the stability and security. This one is really the danger zone because it slips so easily to the next stage if neither recognizes it or does anything to move it back to the first or second stages.

Excitement Elsewhere: Stage Four is when, bored out of your mind, you seek excitement elsewhere. This may be with or without the consent of the other. You may seek it with other people. You may reach out for intimacy with other partners and end up with quick-fix sex. You may seek excitement and fulfilment at work. You may even undertake journeys into unknown lands, new sports, or develop new skills. This is the stage in which you may relate far deeper to people, places or activities in the absence of the other. Possibly the only time you meet the "other" is when you need to make large decisions about your joint existence, or perhaps about your children. The human mind, in a state of boredom, does not survive, and therefore it seeks excitement wherever it can find it. Differences of opinion are often highlighted here because the deep feelings of discontent with your shared existence overshadow the wisdom that earlier led you to seek to resolve or respect them. Evolved people tend to seek counselling at this point and some do come through on top of their situation.

Independence: Stage Five is when you lead a completely independent existence from each other. In some sensible scenarios, the partners move into separate bedrooms, and even have separate work spaces in the house. This probably led to the invention of the ubiquitous "Den"! Work takes on primary importance with a growing need to feel independent of the other in every possible way. You often work late, come home late, and perhaps don't come home at all. Everything that made you incompatible in the first place comes to the forefront so you avoid the other as far as is physically possible. This is a stage of no return really. If you have got here, you will probably not be able to go back to togetherness of any worthwhile sort.

Hatred: Stage Six is when hatred for the other sets in. You are so completely bored out of your mind with the same nonsense that rules the house that everything about the other begins to irritate you. From the toothbrush left in the wrong place, to the unmade bed in the morning, to even the other's body odor that did not bother you in the past, everything about the other seems completely out of sync. By this time, most of life's larger decisions have been made, so there may not really even be a need to meet over them. If there are any decisions, you either make them without consulting the other, or leave the other to do it. You continue to work late, take up golf on the weekends, and spend as much time as possible in spaces that the other does not want to access. This is the other danger zone because instead of bringing out the best in you, the other leads you to behave in the worst possible ways. This is when, if you are prone to violence, you give in to those urges to hit, to shout, to bring the house down. You hurt each other in unimaginable ways, do and say things you did not know you were capable of. You hit to damage and you don't pull your punches. If you are lucky, the children have grown up and left and don't see this undignified falling out of the two people they need to feel connected to most in the world. But if you are unlucky, your children are the primary witnesses to the complete bestiality of your natures, seeing at first hand what cads and vipers both their parents can be. Not to be judgmental or anything but, if possible, we need to shield the young and innocent from these ring-side seats.... Sensible people move out at this point, before they damage their partners or their children beyond repair and have sacrificed their souls at the altar of Ares.

Separation: Stage Seven is when you wake up one morning and realize that life is too short to go on living like this. You realize that you would rather be lonely on your own time than lonely cohabiting with the other. You discover that for so long you have not been able to share your most precious and intimate thoughts with the "other". You no longer know or even care what the other does in your absence. In fact, you understand that you and the other have grown so far apart that speech is no longer even an option. You take time off from work and go house hunting and in the evening, perhaps late at night, you tell the other that you are moving out. You pack your bags and leave without a backward glance because what you want from life, the other is no longer interested in giving you. The dialogue thereafter is taken up by your respective lawyers because there is a clarity to legalese that nothing else can match. Take the precision of, "The parties seek a divorce forthwith on the grounds of mutual incompatibility and irreconcilable differences..." and compare it to the more emotional, albeit more accurate, "These two have tried, tested and tortured each other for eleven bloody years and it is high time we released them from the bondage of handing out BS to each other on dinner plates..." The former wins hands down. 

Standing in the midst of crowds of people in the Tis Hazari courts one morning in April over two decades ago, I watched people getting married. When our lawyer arrived, a little late, he apologized. "Sorry," he said, "I had a divorce hearing just before this." He grinned. "That's my life. Divorce, marriage, divorce, and marriage yet again. All in a day's work."

A little like God, huh? 

And eleven years later, the words came back to haunt me, as in another lawyer's cubby hole in the same Tis Hazari courts, my freshly ex-ed husband and I sipped soft drinks, in a civilized mockery of the complete lack of civility in the last few degrees of our separation. At least legalese was able to pave the way for civilization to be restored.

But, mostly, it brought to the fore the undeniable fact that nothing is made or unmade in heaven but right here on earth between two people who want to lead a shared existence. With the 20-20 vision of hindsight, I quote Bono, "Life is short, but it is the longest thing you will ever do..." Amen.