May we congratulate you on your divorce

Couples are commemorating shattered vows with the same kind of fanfare accorded their marriage -- complete with announcements, parties and even vacation funds.

By Nora Zelevansky

Read more: Divorce, Marriage, Weddings, Life

Oct. 29, 2007 | Thirty ceremonies later, the wedding rush has finally slowed to a trickle. Wedding season may traditionally only last from May through October, but my experience says otherwise: "I do's" have been constant since 2003, without so much as a winter break.

I can't help rejoicing that no oversize invitations clog my tiny mail slot. I no longer choose three months in advance between chewy chicken and fishy salmon, design my portion of a "love quilt" or hop in a white stretch Hummer limo with 14 other grown women -- all clad in mandatory purple -- while sipping periwinkle "bachelorette" martinis from veiny, plastic, glow-in-the-dark, disembodied penis straws. These days, I check my in box without fear of blissful wedding Web sites sharing rose petal-filled proposal sagas and Pottery Barn, Tiffany and Target registries.

I thought I was finally safe. I didn't know about divorce season.

Recently, my boyfriend Andrew opened a mass e-mail from his friend George, with the generic subject heading: "Please Read." Expecting a forward about the latest dangerous cold medicine or recalled cat food, Andrew was shocked when confronted instead with a deeply impersonal divorce announcement. Having left his fabulous 30-something wife for a younger woman, George expressed sadness about the relationship's dissolution and (to undisclosed recipients) sincere gratitude for years of camaraderie.

Though the sentiment had intimate -- even life-changing -- implications, the e-mail was deeply disposable. Reading (and rereading) the note from our swivel chairs, Andrew and I unwittingly bore witness -- along with a larger anonymous group -- to this relationship's public demise, just as we had watched our friends seal their bond from a pew at their wedding years before.

Another divorce announcement arrived via mass e-mail soon thereafter. A rambling joint effort by the couple, it read like a separation form letter and waxed so profusely about eternal mutual admiration that I suspected the couple just edited their original wedding vows to cut down on writing time. Still, a special request that we (close personal friends) refrain from writing negative comments on their respective MySpace pages was probably a new addition. In fact, divorce announcements are now regular occurrences on MySpace and Facebook, where people constantly update their status, marital and otherwise.

It made us feel like intruders, as if we were guests at a wedding for anyone other than our dearest friends and family. If these couples didn't feel close enough to share this significant and painful issue over the phone, in person or at least via individual e-mail, why did they need to treat acquaintances to a mass diatribe about how they're still "cheerleading" for each other? As my deeply spiritual friend Tova admitted after a recent breakup, "I prefer to hate it out. In private." I know what she means. All the saccharine sentiments, however well intentioned, make one yearn for a few good ole exclamations of "bastard" and "bitch."

Actually, commemorating divorce with the kind of fanfare usually accorded a wedding, whether by e-mail or more formal snail mail, is now relatively common. Failed marriages may have been shameful 30 years ago, but now they are often celebrated as landmarks and new beginnings. Maybe the celebrity breakups that dominate tabloid rag headlines have made us blasé about public divorces. When Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt broke up, for example, trend-obsessed Los Angeles boutique Kitson sold "Team Aniston" and "Team Jolie" shirts, so strangers could express solidarity by sporting cotton tees. (Incidentally, "Team Aniston" sold out 2-to-1.)

T-shirts are generally reserved for more high-profile couples, but regular folks might send one of the various greeting cards that are springing up to mark the occasion. Most of them attempt to assuage potential awkwardness and sadness with humor: A Caddylak Graffix option depicts a pistol-toting cowgirl and reads, "Husbands are like guns ... keep one around for long enough and you're gonna want to shoot it!" An upbeat version from J. Treacy Designs features an elated woman throwing papers in the air, declaring, "It's finally over! I just had to tell everyone! Call to congratulate me at (phone number)." And a male-oriented card from TheDivorceCards.com pictures a guy with his hand to his head, lamenting, "My wife left with my house, my car, my money and my best friend ... and I miss him."

Jill Conner Browne, author of "The Sweet Potato Queens' Wedding Planner/Divorce Guide," strongly recommends the humorous approach. "Sending out divorce announcements is tacky, but it's funny tacky, so it's a good thing. The parts in life that aren't funny are the parts we need to laugh at most," Conner Browne muses. Still, she groans at the impersonality of generic notes: "I want my own dadgum letter. I don't want a mass e-mail about your wedding or divorce."

Browne also sees value in another trend: Divorce parties/showers. "Divorce parties meet some genuine needs. Who needs your loving support more -- your deliriously happy friend who's planning her wedding or your friend who is lower than a worm's belly over her divorce?" she asks. "The best group of friends I ever heard of had a party for their divorced buddy. Each woman invited the most attractive single man she knew to come meet their girlfriend -- and nobody was allowed to dress cute or wear makeup but the honoree! Now that right there is what you call your best friend forever!"

Probably the most notorious divorce party to date was hosted last November at Bellagio's club Light in Las Vegas by Playboy Playmate Shanna Moakler, ex-wife of Blink 182 drummer and reality show "Meet the Barkers" co-star Travis Barker. The whole fete reeked suspiciously of an angry bachelorette party. When the musician heard about his ex's upcoming festivities, he blogged on his MySpace page: "Shanna is having a divorce party in celebration of our failed marriage apparently ... I mean, a party?" Barker's concern was legitimate, as the event's centerpiece was a three-tiered, pretty pink wedding cake with a murderous bride poised at the peak and a bloody groom, lying twisted on the plate below.

Next page: Divorce registries are the perfect way to replace all those belongings taken by your ex