Some of you may know the story of my accidental engagement; if not, let me tell it very briefly. I had gotten nice and toasty at my fortieth-birthday party, and my then-boyfriend and I were settled on his futon at the end of the evening, having a snack and watching Investigation Discovery ("as was the custom at the time"). It was like the third episode in a row of Dateline featuring a couple that went for a nature hike and "broke up" when one of them pushed the other into an impassable crevasse, and through a mouthful of clam roll (I am klassy) I informed Dan that when we got married, if he was over it, he should just leave, or make me leave, or put some painter's tape down the exact middle of the house and pick a side, whatever. "Just get a divorce!"
Of course, what Dan seized on was the "when" in my opening clause, and I responded with "'when' 'if' whatever you know what I mean except if you want so do you want to get married? to...me?" He did, for some reason. Went through with it, too! hee.
But that's the origin of the "just get a divorce" tag here at Exhibit B. The sheer volume of major-case true crime that would never have occurred had the subjects just asked for -- or, in a few notorious instances, accepted (Broderick, Betty) -- divorces is kind of staggering. It's most of Ann Rule's catalog. And Dan (my husband, not Dan Broderick) and I still mutter it at our TV on occasion. In fact, while I was watching a recent Dateline, he grumbled it while walking through the living room, unaware that the woman onscreen had "just gotten a divorce," and while it hadn't gone great, she'd fallen afoul of another situation completely.
All those cases wear the "just get a divorce" tag in the shop if you'd like to see them all in one place -- and, seeing them in a group, suggest inventory additions to me! (The Twelfth of Never is en route to my shelves as we speak.) -- SDB