The Japanese are always ahead of the curve.  They’re at the cutting edge of technology and fashion (Harujuku Girls for better and Sony 3D TVs for worse).  Their most recent invention – and dare I say, innovation?  The divorce ceremony.  Um, hello?  One ticket to Japan, please!

Actually, make that two tickets – because believe it or not, divorce ceremonies require participation by both members of the married couple.  According to reports, in the last year, almost 900 couples have enquired about this unique rite of passage.

The man who pioneered the divorce ceremony is Hiroki Terai.  He told Reuters he “set up a ‘divorce mansion’ in a small undercover space in Tokyo” last April.  “Since then about 25 couples have each paid 55,000 yen ($606) to hold a ceremony with all the pomp and grandeur of a wedding that publicly ends their relationship before they officially file for divorce.”

To those of you that are single or in happy marriages, this idea may sound crazy.  Bloggers at Slate and Jezebel both have their doubts.  But as someone who went through a bitter divorce, I can tell you, divorce ceremonies sound revolutionary to me.  As with most people who eventually leave their spouses, I did not take the decision to leave my husband lightly.  Though our marriage had been seriously troubled for almost two years before I even thought of walking away, by the time we stopped going to couples therapy, I knew it was over. 

I can remember driving home from the therapist’s office, holding hands with my husband and discussing how we could part ways gradually and peacefully.  I’d get my own apartment.  We’d be friends.  The sun was shining golden on the trees and I really believed what I was saying.  But because I didn’t file for separation immediately (and my husband wasn’t going to take any action), a few days later, we just sort of ended up back at square one, stuck in a bad relationship.  In the four months subsequent to that day, before I finally hit my breaking point, things turned very bitter, and by the time I contacted a lawyer (who suggested I sue for divorce), my husband had become my nemesis.  Our marriage ended violently and suddenly, before I had time to take it all in.

But what if, on that beautiful late summer day, my ex and I had gone home and begun to plan our divorce ceremony?  I’m not saying it would have changed everything, but I can imagine that working together on the end of our marriage would have been, if not any less painful, at least less hurtful than working against each other.  I remember the hellish negotiation period while my ex and I defined the terms of our opting out agreement like it was yesterday.  The anguished minutes seemed like torturous hours and I thought I’d never live through it.  It would have been a lot easier were a string quartet playing while a handsome waiter offered me bacon-wrapped scallop hors d’oeuvres. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’d keep the affair small – just the two of us, and an officiant, the woman who married us, to bring everything full circle.  Instead of reading love poems by Nikki Giovanni, I’d take the altar (on a cliffside, wearing white to be defiant with my hair covered in daisies) and perform a modern dance solo to Your Ex-Lover is Dead by Stars, during which I’d smear myself in black and red paint symbolic of the blood and anger we’d shared.  Next we’d smash the silver plate and white candlestick holders we used during our wedding ceremony, and he’d shout, “I never liked your mother anyway!”  Then we’d go do the electric slide to Play That Funky Music White Boy and call it a day.

I realize that holding a divorce ceremony would not have exempted my ex and I from the difficult task of having to agree on custody, child support and visitation, but it might have made us more agreeable.  It’s an extraorinarily complex process, wrapping your head around the idea that your most intimate companion is suddenly willing to do (or spend – and in my ex’s case, borrow) whatever it takes to essentially vanquish you.  He didn’t vanquish me, of course, but he wanted to, and I still haven’t been able to process that.  I’m not sure anyone who goes through a bitter divorce ever does.  I think eventually you just learn to let it go, because you have to, especially if you continue to co-parent a child.

I could spend the rest of the afternoon fantasizing about what it would be like to fit into my wedding dress again, although the likelihood of that is pretty slim, since I’m not.  I won’t be able to pass my dress on to my daughter; I thought it was couture, but it turns out nothing is really couture at David’s Bridal.  I do still have my rings, thanks to my mother who convinced me not to sell them.  (Unfortunately, diamonds, like cars, lose half their value when you drive them off the lot.)  I think I’ve got a few splits of bubbly left from our wedding ceremony… the ones with the custom-designed labels we made by scanning the image his sister painted just for us.  Maybe tonight I’ll kick back and bust a cap in honor of the old days and have my own divorce ceremony.  After all, we must have loved each other once.  That’s how we ended up divorced.

Photo: quinn.anya via Flickr

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