It was late last night and I was just about to go to bed when the phone rang. It was a friend who’s going through a painful divorce. (Like there’s any other kind.) She’d been crying and she needed to talk. (Different time zone. She probably forgot.)

Friends going through relationship woes often turn to me, I guess because I’m so calm and soothing. (No, really. I only get this worked up about politics.) I suppose my signature quality is the ability to emphasize with all sides of a situation; I’m not one for “That bastard, he deserves to die” kind of emotional support.

I don’t see the point of blaming, anyway. People are so complicated, they usually don’t even understand why it is they’re doing what they’re doing. You may want to shake someone because they’re so oblivious, but how long can you stay mad at someone for not being capable of what they so clearly can’t handle?

I mean, I know you can (I have one friend who’s still furious with the man she divorced 15 years ago even though she’s been happily remarried for years), but it doesn’t make much sense.

And it only weighs you down. I prefer to travel light.

“The hardest part about something like this is, you may never know why he’s doing this,” I said. “He may one day figure it out, and he might even tell you. But probably not. We don’t usually get those ‘Hallmark Hall of Fame’ catharsis moments, where someone finally gives you the missing piece of the puzzle and everyone’s happy. Any resolution you get, you have to figure it out for yourself.”

“I just feel so stupid, that I put up with it for so long,” she said. “I saw these problems even before we got married.”

“Yeah, but there’s that moment where he tells you you’re the only person he could ever really talk to, and that’s what sucks you in. You start to feel responsible, and then you convince yourself that he’ll change - for you. But nobody ever changes for someone else. Either they change for themselves, or not at all,” I said. (Considering I was falling asleep, I was doing pretty well.)

“Yeah, but why did I stay?” she said. “God, I feel like such an idiot. I feel like I wasted all that time. I wish I had that time back.”

I laughed, because I so recently felt the same way, and I told her so. “But you know what? Something really specific happens, it all clicks and you realize how it got you to exactly where you needed to be. And then you see it wasn’t wasted at all,” I said. “I can’t even remember now what the moment was, but it did happen and I finally let go of it. I know that sounds all New-Agey and shit, but really, now I don’t feel bad at all. It just is what it is.”

“And besides,” I said, “Don’t feel so stupid. You’re talking to a woman who stayed five years longer than I would have - I just didn’t want to have to go to a laundromat. I stayed married for the washer and dryer.”

“Really? You’re kidding, right?”

“No, really.” It’s true. Every time I thought about leaving, I stopped at the part about the laundry. (When I did leave, I rented a house and took the washer and dryer with me.) Everyone thinks I’m so emotional - and I am, about some things. But I’m also very practical.

Anyway, the nice thing about being middle-aged is, you already know most of the storylines and that time heals most wounds. I suppose that’s why we old farts are the tribal elders.