Lisa Bonos writes about dating and relationships for the Features department of the Washington Post. I don’t know if she’s married, but she seems to know a thing or two about marriages. In particular, she wrote this week about Bill and Melinda Gates.
Just imagine how many hours of couples therapy you can afford when you’re among the world’s richest people. Or the shared sense of purpose you could forge while raising three children and running a $50 billion charitable foundation with your spouse.
Then imagine that it’s not enough to keep you together.
In announcing their decision to divorce, Bill and Melinda Gates cited the work they’d done on their marriage, and a mutual sense of pride in their children and philanthropy. But, they said in identical joint statements shared on Twitter, “we no longer believe we can grow together as a couple in this next phase of our lives.”
If Bill and Melinda Gates can’t make a marriage work, what hope is there for the rest of us?
Well, I know something about marriage, too. From personal experience. And I think I can answer Ms. Bonos’ question for her.
There is no hope for the rest of us, and there never was.
Apparently — judging by the joint public announcement — Bill and Melinda at one point believed they could grow together as a couple. But they’ve changed their minds.
Nothing wrong with changing your mind. I do it myself, several times a day. It’s easier to do, I’ve found, once you’re divorced. Changing your mind while you’re still married is highly problematic, because your spouse remembers — at a level of detail that you, yourself, can barely imagine — what you said and what expectations you generated with your unchanged mind, five years ago, and what right do you have, now, to change your mind?
Once you are divorced, you no longer need to remember the promises you made five years ago. Which is handy, because you don’t, in fact, remember the promises you made five years ago.
In the statement Bill and Melinda issued on Monday on the social media website Twitter, they wrote, “We ask for space and privacy for our family as we begin to navigate this new life.”
Just so you know, I have no intention of invading the couple’s space and privacy. I have the utmost respect for a couple’s space and privacy during a difficult transition, except for the intrusion I’ve already made by quoting and linking to Ms. Bonos’ Washington Post article, above, and the various cynical comments I’ve made thus far.
In my book, a divorce is hard on people — on themselves, their kids, their parents, their friends, their boards of directors — no matter how many millions, or billions, of dollars you’ve managed to acquire. When Darlene and I got divorced, for example, we had to fight over the pets. She got the dog, and I got the cat. (She also got the house, but don’t get me started on that.) Deciding on the pets was probably child’s play, compared to splitting up a $135 billion estate, except that in our case it took three years to come to a final agreement on visitation rights.
A group of young working-class musicians from England, who became incredibly rich from singing and strumming electric guitars, once wrote a popular song entitled, “Can’t Buy Me Love”. The tune was catchy, and the lyrics played upon a well-accepted concept, that money can’t buy love.
But I am happy to reveal that money can buy visitation rights.
Underrated writer Louis Cannon grew up in the vast American West, although his ex-wife, given the slightest opportunity, will deny that he ever grew up at all.