I am a product of parents who got divorced in the 80's. Things were different back then. There was no civil conversation, no attempt at friendship. Divorce was rooted in popular culture as a very ugly thing and so one had to behave like a cannibal.
You also had to have the best lawyer (your) money could buy (to help make it uglier) and a vocabulary loaded with every four letter expletive known to man. That way, when all the parties gathered around that expensive mahogany conference table in the 'city' lawyers offices, they were ready for battle. Who gets paid what and who keeps the home, cars, and jewels? And who the hell gets the kids? And who pays for private school and sleep away camp?
Thank you so, so much Danny Devito for War of The Roses.
How passé. Today, ex-husbands want to know who the hell went down on their ex-wives better? Well, at least in Miami Social land because those sorts of things are really important to me and my group of friends. I mean, we have our priorities in check and the business of sex is one of them.
Dining at Philippe Chow, using their signature lacquered chopsticks, eating over priced Chinese food, my divorced friends George and Sorah try to have one of those amicable get-togethers -- you know like, the past is the past and let's move forward and drink Lychee martinis and forget about all the ugly stuff. Heck, they even sat on the same side on the banquet. It was looking good.
But just when you thought, oh, this is the new face of divorce -- they can talk about if Sorah's new man Gonzalo or if ex-hubby George wins the medal for licking her vagina, Sorah gets up and leaves. Hello?
I guess some things don't change after all, especially when feelings from the past have no resolution and no lawyer has sorted them out. Talk about an episode cliffhanger.
But perhaps there was no cliffhanger, because we come to learn that Gonzalo is a doctor, well, not a U.S. practicing doctor, but trained back in his home country. Nonetheless, he has read an anatomy book or two and Sorah shares the intimate results: a finger here, his mouth there, and another finger here.... We know who eats her out better.
Last night we also got to meet Katrina's client, Miami's very own Tony Soprano, a.k.a Edmundo. Edmundo looks like the type of guy that would throw you in a tank of piranhas and then give his German Shepard your bones for further gnawing. His wife doesn't look like the type to stop him, nor did she seem the least bit offended at his sexual overtones towards Katrina, who laughs it off, knowing she will be laughing all the way to the bank should she close this deal.
Enter, client #2, Michael, the buyer. This is the sort of guy my mother, a former real estate agent, would describe as a real big shot, a real Macher, a chest beater of all his accomplishments. He's a New Yorker himself and thinks he can avoid paying the full asking price of Edmundo's waterfront mansion for $7.9 million.
'Tell him I'm a cash buyer," Michael tells Katrina, with his offer of $5.8 million. He reminds Katrina again that he is a 'cash buyer' who is paying 'cash,' with the smirk of new money, and you know that look.
No one went 'Ga Ga' over 'Macha Face' and his less than up to par offer. This is Miami bitches and all cash offers on mansions are as certain as the sun rising. There is always someone tanner and richer around the corner and Edmundo was holding out, that is unless a hot piece of ass comes with the offer, specifically his real estate agent Katrina.
"Are your bags packed?" Edmundo asks Katrina with his snickering laugh. Thankfully, Katrina's asking price is more than $2.1 million dollars and I can imagine why. All those Louis Vuitton bags and Loubiton shoes do cost a lot, but with this Miami market in crisis, she may have to rethink her own negotiating skills.
But she does leave us all with some good advice: The only things in life to get emotionally attached to are your spouse and children, not your own home for gods sake, which may explain her own impending divorce from Ben.
There is some buzz on George's home front as well. Lina is pregnant and I blame it on Maria and her Russian witchcraft (or could it be that he's been getting tips from Gonzalo).
During the night's most dramatic part (besides learning there is a Lina version 2.0 on the way) Maria has a huge fight with George about he and Lina's dysfunctional relationship, then realizes she doesn't care about either of them and proves it by saying that he and Lina can screw each others brains out and have psychotic babies. Touché.
Otherwise on Miami Social life was normal. Trixia complained. Hardy looked bored. Sorah pitied George. George pitied himself. Lina wore white eyeliner. Maria and I laughed. Ariel went down, in the way only he can.
And Katrina forgot to read the fine print of her marital contract that states she needs to go down more on Ben if she doesn't want a divorce.
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