Getting Divorced Over Sponge Bob and Other Pettiness That Severs the I Dos

05/12/2015 04:00 pm ET | Updated May 09, 2016

It's the accumulation of disrespect and distain and much more that get you to the judge and jury to ignite the dramatic firework finale of the madness of your beaten dead horse marriage. From field research, I have so far found, it usually is the feather, the box of donuts, the golf tournie, the Sponge that drives the final decision to force down your get the Hell out of Jail Now card.

My EX loved donuts and chocolate cake. I love avocadoes and dried mangoes. I like documentaries and Bach. He worshipped Sponge Bob and Homer Simpson (donuts are what made me who I am guy) and Porn.

Organic foods tasted bad-to him. So did the disease I brought into the union-vegetarianism. I shamed the In-laws with my ways, 'she just can't get with the Program. What program? I didn't receive the bow wrapped manual on the I Do day. Instant Outlaw, I preferred books to TV and did not know how to play Golf. Too many strikes and I am out. I irritated them. They irritated me, so I took up golf and cartoons to stay true to the Vows and keep the eviction notice at bay.

My recollection of the beginning of the End: The to-be Ex and the children were watching the tele for several hours, a marathon of sorts, so we were to be late to a holiday party. The sitter had arrived, the red festive lip stick carefully made up on my lips. Hey, would You mind turning the show off please , it's time to go and the children are bloodshot zombie eyed? I just may have said, oh my god turn that Crap off, its been on for so long our children are of worship to the Church to the likes of a Sponge named Bob, for God"s Sake, I feel this family's brains warping. Please turn it off! He looked and me and honestly sincerely said, I LOVE Sponge Bob and so do My kids.

Fast forward 30 minutes and he is being his stupid self, channeling the sponge. He truly can't not speak in proper sentences after the half marathon of crap TV, he is crap, filled with crap, being crap. I have such intense Hate for this stupid Man next to me. I have turned bitter and horrible.

In the car-I asked, do you really Love Sponge Bob? I am apprehensive about the answer, for the answer I must know already or I would not be so unhinged. He worships both Bushes, worships Hostess Ding Dongs, worships the Klan, worships the Golf channel, worships Disneyland, all of which I have struggled and worked hard to manage (except the obvious prejudices), to have a positive delusional stance on-turn the other cheek , love the one your with even if we are soo very different. He grew up in spoiled soil, I told myself repeatedly. Shit, so did every one I know. I chose him didn't I? I made a vow, didn't I? Made little people with him. I must find a way back to love. Yet, this question is the decider-er for some reason. Can he really worship a sponge too? My life, this chapter of it, is hinging on this answer for some reason.

Fuck yes, I LOVE Sponge Bob, and Squidward (another character in the show) too!!
What is wrong with you? He has the nerve to ask Me.

I do love humor, absurdity, and I could possibly grow to adore the Sponge too. I am disgusted that my chosen person, my husband loves no other television, nothing, nothing smart to balance the crap. No nutrition added to the crap. With his diet, his regime, his consumption of Crap made him Crap to me.

Please take me home. NOW.

I am ready to leap out of the car. I feel the stench of his ignorance and lack of wellness and my lack of wellness. I have persevered for 18.25 years, sleeping next to his dumb ass shit puppet. You name it I put up with it, and this is what finished it off for me. A sponge absorbed in stupid. Ironic.

I must go home. NOW. Please take me home. I can not be in the car, in a life with someone who loves Sponge Bob. Yes I have lost at least 30 IQ points -happens when we reach acute anxiety levels-Fact.

What is wrong with You, Kay? EVERYONE loves SB, chill out. On and on he went. I see red. I get murder, the stories you read about the wife that just snaps, gets the knife out and lops the dick off. I am convicted. I will be and doing a Life sentence if I do not get out of the car.

I want to jump out and walk home. He smells bad, he feels bad, I despise this stupid Freak show of a life I have lived and helped create.

I manage to self sooth-breathe in breathe out. Able somehow to gathering a few of the lost stray IQ points and integrate them back into my system. Thankfully he shuts Up. He drops me off at home and goes off to the Holiday Cheer. I despise this stupid freak show of a life story I have helped write.

I got divorced over Sponge Bob and ten thousands other reasons. Our glaring incompatibility was there from the start. We ran out of positive illusion. We did not have enough deposits in our Bank of Love to maintain respect and love for the other.

We did part ways, in an ugly fashion. We both had so much to learn about loving another properly. I have invested the last five years in cleaning out my crap, my sponges, my judgments, so I can be better at writing a story with another. Compatibility and Kindness and Positive Illusions here forward. I get it more now. Love.