Social Media & FBAMM

Divorce in the Age of Social Media

Other Lies

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(Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

Chapter 28:  The Other Lie and Wishes

 

Even at this late date, and contemplating the recent call from Kaylee, I find I still harbor the urge to believe an impossible lie. It is not the lie that it could work out or even, in the past tense, could have. It is the lie that: Were DeeAnn not insane, on drugs and suppressing less than latent lesbian tendencies, our divorce would have been inevitable. Associated with that lie is the one I wish I had been allowed to tell Heather, Kiefer and Julie. The one where the parents sit down and, in that reasonable tone that no child in their right mind believes, explain that “While Mommy and Daddy still love each other very much, it is clear that we need to do different things at this time in our lives. So we have decided not to be married anymore.” Read the rest of this entry »

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  • In Time For Easter

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 29:  Fairies and Other Necessary Fallacies

    “I am going to kill these fucking cats!” reverberated through the house.

    No, dear reader, it was not me shouting while rushing off to get peroxide to treat the multiple puncture wounds that William had left affectionately in both my thighs as I attempted to extricate her from my lap; that was the previous night. The bellow that emanated from the far side of the house came from none other than Bryce, the recently pierced and much offended eldest of the Lynn offspring. He had, while padding down the hall to his bathroom, found that the Raptors had laid a trap, or actually several: a large puddle of urine around which they had laid a minefield of feces. This Raptor project, showing both ingenuity and extreme malicious intent, was clearly an enterprise for which Gertrude could not be blamed, as he sleeps on the floor in my bedroom with the door shut. The door being shut is as much for Gertrude’s well being as my own, as the Raptors are inclined to prowl at night and a sleeping dog or human is always a welcome target for attack. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Can you stand an honest man?

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 44:  Other Means and Max

    True to his word, Bryce did block out his mother from his new Facebook profile. This I know, not only based upon receiving the report from Bryce that he successfully solved the password question, but also as I was called away between patients at the clinic to take a phone call that was “urgent and personal.” The voice on the other end of the line was cold and deadpan: “I need Kaylee and Bryce’s phone numbers.”

    “Sure, Max, any particular reason?” I asked, knowing the answer to the question.

    “DeeAnn sent me a message on Facebook last night. She says you are holding Bryce hostage, Kaylee is being brainwashed, and you are a druggy rapist.”

    “Sounds about right,” I said, matter-of-factly. “So you are being called on to intervene?”

    “She is peddling her story. I just want to get the facts,” Max said, his voice not changing in any way. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • WHAT IS KILLING US?

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 25:  More Thoughts on Cigars and

    Mrs. Towbridge Writes Again

    The question has been asked, “As a physician, how can you smoke a cigar?”

    To which I respond, “By starting out with the very best selection of cured and aged tobaccos, rolled in a flawless whole leaf binder, pressed into molds, wrapped in a flawless whole leaf wrapper, trimmed, aged further and kept at an ideal temperature and humidity.”

    The more persistent will renew their protest by arguing, “But as a physician…”

    To which I will continue, “Clipping the end, only after having rolled the cigar between thumb and forefinger to gauge the tightness of the roll and determine the smoothness of the draw.”

    “But as a physician!” They will now exclaim, exasperated. Read the rest of this entry »

    Sadistic Games Dentists Play

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 14:  Sadistic Games Dentists Play

     

         Here again, I must point to the evolutionary force of boredom as to why dentists talk to our patients. Some ask questions about your family just to listen to you choke on your own spittle. Others might be sincerely interested in the nature of the human condition associated with the open maul into which they will shortly be plunging their hands and a high-speed drill. I personally view the abuse as all part of the service, so I do monologs on relationships, little pointers on how to avoid the major fights. For example, a young lady was in to see me last week to have a wisdom tooth pulled, a root canal and a crown. She is getting ready for a wedding and wanted the perfect pearly whites with that slightly puckered look that comes with having the wisdom teeth out. Were she 50 pounds lighter, it would give her the desired look. But the runway model, heroin chic is just not going to happen through necessary dentistry. The best she could hope for from me was brilliantly white teeth and a slightly less pronounced fullness of face, in a face that has already been filled too often. No, it is not a generous thing to say. It is downright bitchy. But there you are. I did not say I was a nice person, particularly as it regards my professional life. I am not nice, I am professional. So a professional does what needs to be done and provides those distractions necessary to get the job done. As I cannot feign interest in the daily travails of human existence of a person who is already in pain and reasonably terrified of what I am about to do, I distract both of us with some inane babbling. A sample follows. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Social Media Marketer – Shoot Or Strangle?

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 11:  Social Media Marketing

    (and not strangling a presenter)

    “Good morning, you great big, half-crazed, pill-stealing druggy, controlling, murderous rapist,” was my morning greeting.

    You might wonder if this was from a cell mate or a sadistic guard. No, I was not in prison, nor have I been – though all possibilities must be considered in a variable and largely random universe, as I will explore later. No, this was my morning wake-up call to get around to drive to Orlando for the required continuing education that all licensed professionals must attend to renew their licenses. The messenger of this wake-up call being none other than our oldest son, Bryce, whom I instructed to wake me for my meeting.

    No great respecter of privacy, or personal space, Bryce had a shift through my collected correspondence and found a copy of his mother’s initial filing for an Order of Protection From Abuse (PFA). He found it such an amusing read that he called up his younger sister, Kaylee, who is studying art in Rhode Island. Being true Lynns, they considered the filing on both its factual and artistic merit and had one hellacious laugh. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • My Dinner With Dexter Douglas

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 47:  My Dinner with Dexter Douglas and Other Terrors

    “Goddamn, son of a bitch,” Dr. Douglas growled as we sat for our biweekly dinner at Vitoli’s.

    This exclamation went unnoticed over the general din of dinners who were engrossed in their own conversations; being “season,” the restaurant was packed with snowbirds whose hearing aids were set low so they could focus on expressing their own views loudly to their dinner companions. On the whole, the meal was going well. We had gotten through the usual preliminaries of Dr. Douglas insisting that I order before he did – a game of chicken where it came to both the food on offer and the expense involved – and he had not once mentioned DeeAnn or my personal turmoil.

    “The fucker is a fucking convict!” Dr. Douglas continued on the subject that was foremost in his mind: the warrant that had been issued for the head of the firm with which he did his accounting.

    “Really?” I said, knowing full well this was in fact the case.

    “Asshole did nine years inNew Jerseyon tax fraud charges,” he snapped, punctuating the fact of the accountant’s criminal history by downing an entire glass of cabernet sauvignon in one swallow. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Psychotic Spouse Test

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 18:  Progress on the Genetic Test and No More Letters

    I am pleased to report that we have developed the first testing kit for the psychotic or schizophrenic indicators in future spouses. You simply swab the inside of their mouth, place the swab in an agar filled test tube, cap it, and mail it to our testing center in a postage paid envelope. The entire test costs only $200, and we guarantee to report back to you in 2 weeks with the results.

    Perhaps it will occur to you to question what sort of breakthrough we have arrived at, being able to identify key genetic indicators of psychosis and schizophrenia in future spouses. The variables may seem mind boggling. What with the entirety of the human genome project data out there, and various highly funded research facilities, what advance did we make that the others have not? I can answer you with complete frankness, we have made none whatsoever. Read the rest of this entry »

    Mad Science!

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 16:  Nobel Prize, Profits, and the Search for the Divorce Gene

     

    It had occurred to me that seeking to make any impression on my soon-to-be ex, as it regarded my indifference to her or my anger toward her, was akin to handing a pair of hedge trimmers to an escapee from an asylum and asking him to trim my pubic hair. Predictable results would follow. But a useful point had come to me from my dinner with Dr. Douglas, and a comment Bryce had made, regarding what I was thinking about at age 17. Read the rest of this entry »

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  • Giggling In Jail

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    (Excerpt From Facebook Ate My Marriage.  Republished with permission from Hell Bent Press and the Author)

    Chapter 15:  Morose at Home or Giggling in Jail

    “I have been thinking about your situation,” Dr. Douglas begins, as we sit down for our biweekly dinner at Vitoli’s.

    “Which situation is that? My near death, my hearing in family court in Pennsylvania, my imminent financial crisis that is accompanying my general state of insolvency?” I ask, as the intervening weeks and months have started to take their toll on my general capacity for forbearance.

    “Your divorce,” Dr. Douglas answers unperturbed, but adding a meaningful glance that suggests future outbursts will not be met with similar tolerance.

    “And what have you concluded?” I ask, not entirely chastened by the glance. Read the rest of this entry »

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