Throughout these meandering memoirs, I’m quite certain I’m going to paint my former husbands in less than flattering terms. Before I continue with glib and sarcastic references, all of which will be perfectly true, I’d like to apologize in advance and set the record straight. Both men were good hearted, well meaning, doing the best they could with the challenges they faced. Both are still living and we stay in touch. There are no hard feelings. Divorcing me may have been exactly what they needed to find happiness. To be perfectly honest, I was the one who divorced them. In fact, I hired the attorneys on whom they relied to file the proper papers. It went like this: When I made the decision to divorce my first husband, a court appearance was necessary because we had two children. Neither of us had any money, so I borrowed the attorney’s fees from my mother and asked one lawyer to represent both of us, to which he surprisingly agreed. We drafted what we thought was an equitable settlement agreement. Our attorney said no judge would ever approve it, so we left it to him to complete a more standard division of assets and child support, swearing on the Bible in court to abide by it and privately promising each other we’d never follow it in fact. In other words, neither of us would ask the other for anything, other than a ride out of town. To give credit where credit is due, my ex-husband decided he wanted to contribute to child support, which he faithfully did until the youngest flew the coop. Other than two children, two dogs, and two cats, there was little property to divide and all of it showed years of wear and tear. He never cooked so I was quite surprised when he said he absolutely insisted on keeping the automatic rice cooker. Twenty-three years later, I asked my second husband if he was happy in our marriage. His reply was, “Well, I’m not unhappy.” That was not the right answer. Since I was his wife number three, he was familiar with the routine of untying the knot. I found a lovely attorney to represent me. The cost of legal representation had escalated 600 percent since my previous case, but how do you put a price on freedom? Apparently, there is a price because after getting quotes for his own attorneys, my soon-to-be ex decided he’d just sit quietly with me and ask my attorney to represent us both. She made it very clear to him that she was representing me and that he might be better served by having his own lawyer. Then she looked at our combined assets and said we’d be better off if we stayed married; we couldn’t afford to get divorced. Once we assured her we’d rather eat cat food for dinner, she continued to prepare and file the appropriate documents. Yet again, to give credit where credit is due, this husband offered a partial payment toward the total cost of the proceedings. Not only that, he took all three cats and two dogs with him to east Texas, bless his heart. He didn’t need much in the way of kitchenware. I had plenty to spare and gave him whatever he wanted. He never cooked, didn’t even know what appliances were in the kitchen. To my utter astonishment, the one appliance he knew we had and he really, really wanted was the automatic rice cooker. I gave it to him, knowing I could buy another. So here we are today. The first ex-husband is married to a woman we refer to as Saint J…. You couldn’t ask for a better step-mother and grandmother. We adore her and never say anything negative about her husband for fear she’ll get annoyed with him and we’ll lose her. They invited me to their wedding. We’ve traveled together to visit our children. They have built a little paradise where he can dedicate his time to service and self-development. I’ve told her she is the answer to my prayers. He’s happy and I don’t have to feel guilty. Ex-husband number two is living exactly where he wants to be, in a place near his childhood home. They feed him twice a day. He has his own kitchen, so he can use his rice cooker if he wishes. I’ve never heard him so cheerful, so upbeat, so coherent. He’s published four books and is working on more. He’s been helpful and encouraging. I feel enormous relief to know he’s doing so well. Between dating and marriage, I was with the first one for twenty years. The second one I lived with for twenty-three years. I kept their friendship; they kept the rice cookers. Ten years ago I stated with total and absolute conviction that I could promise the next man in my life twenty years and a rice cooker. I’d done before and I could do it again. Now I’m not so sure. If I follow in my mother’s footsteps, I’ve only got about ten years left and by then I won’t remember that I own a rice cooker, let alone I’m supposed to give it to somebody.