Starting Over — Vegas Style

by Linda Lou

A week after I moved to Las Vegas, I put my bastard husband on a plane to the other side of the world—back to where he came from, New Zealand. By then he was actually my ex-husband, on paper anyway, and he wasn’t always a bastard. No, he was perfect and I loved everything about him. Until his thirteenth beer.

The next day, I went to a divorce support group I found in the Meetings section of the local newspaper, listed between Cross-Dressers of Las Vegas and Friends and Family of Incarcerated People. (And I thought I had problems.) As I sat in a circle of strangers waiting for my turn to “share,” I glanced at the Absolutely No Swearing sign hanging from the ceiling and thought, this will be a challenge.

“I’m Linda,” I began, “I have no husband, no job, and you people are my only friends.” Everyone laughed at my pathetic truth.

Most people come to Las Vegas buoyant with anticipation. Having blown out the last flicker of hope for my marriage, I arrived feeling depressed and deflated. Three years earlier, I began a Wild West adventure with my second husband, a university professor eight years my junior. I didn’t think twice about leaving my grown children, a young grandson, and the rest of my family back in upstate New York, where I spent the first forty-three years of my life. But now I missed everyone tremendously; I felt so lonely I offered to make the cable guy a sandwich after he hooked me up just so he’d stay and chat a while. Yet I couldn’t bear to return to the dreary Northeast.

No, determined to make a life for myself in Sin City, I plodded forward. I experienced the frustrations of looking for a professional level position in a job market where valet parker and cocktail waitress are the coveted career options. Desperate and running out of cash, I took a job selling timeshares. Three weeks later, I got fired for the first time in my life—for not selling timeshares.

The dating scene proved to be equally disheartening. When my first post-divorce date arrived at my door not with flowers in hand, but a brochure detailing his chronic mental condition, I couldn’t help but conclude I really know how to pick ‘em.

Lucky for me, I found the perfect antidote for my depression and misery; I became a hospice volunteer. (Obviously I wasn’t good at long-term relationships.) I believe that helping other people is the best thing you can do when your own life is in the crapper, and I got much more from my volunteer experience than I gave. By sitting with patients at the end of their lives, I gained a much greater appreciation of my own.

Though I would have preferred to sulk at home weeping over my video of Princess Di’s funeral, I forced myself to explore the Vegas neon nightlife. I checked out music venues and started hanging out at a bar on the west side of town that had open mic comedy every Sunday night in the back room. After several weeks of watching the comics, a voice in my head told me to go ahead and sign up for stage time.

But the biggest accomplishments of my new life came through the local writing community. Although I’d worked as a technical writer for many years, I hadn’t explored creative expression until I joined the Henderson Writers Group, a critique group for writers in the Las Vegas Valley. With their help, I crafted my journal entries from my first year alone in Sin City into a memoir, Bastard Husband: A Love Story. For two years I served as the group’s vice president and I regularly present at the Las Vegas Writers Conferences and other programs for writers.

As for my Kiwi ex, I will be forever grateful to him for leading me out west. We’ve remained good friends in the six years since our divorce (living in separate hemispheres helps), and he makes it a point to visit Las Vegas every time he returns to the States. But the truth is, I doubt I could boast my record of accomplishments had we stayed together.

At the risk of sounding like the Pollyanna I can sometimes be, I believe everything really does happen for a reason. Most importantly, I’ve learned that in the end, your heart beats only for yourself. NewsSip

Excerpt from "Bastard Husband: A Love Story" copyright © 2009 by Aging Nymphs Media.

Las Vegas-based Linda Lou is a Guinness-drinking humor writer, spirited blogger and occasional stand-up comic. Her memoir, Bastard Husband: A Love Story, chronicles her experience starting over in Sin City after a mid-life divorce, threaded with reflections on the relationship that led her there. She has been a monthly columnist for www.Living-Las-Vegas.com and has had numerous personal essays published in anthologies including Chicken Soup for the Soul: Divorce and Recovery. Linda speaks frequently about writing, the creative process and topics related to the empowerment of women over 40.

Now available — Bastard Husband: A Love Story, a memoir about starting over after a mid-life divorce... Vegas style! Order yours at www.bastardhusband.com

Submit a Story

More Stories