A Heartbreaking Happy Hour Tale That Can Help You On The Road To Healing After Divorce

It’s easy to get sucked into what I call the “culture of divorce” because of the sadness, loneliness, and heartache that comes after an unwanted divorce. If you are struggling with this culture of divorce I’d like to share this moving story with you, and a few suggestions to help you find the real path to healing.

It was 5:00 pm and I was in an awkward position. Happy hour was in full swing at the crowded restaurant-bar I was standing in, and I was trying to mind my own business as I waited for my group of friends to arrive, but I was being watched by one of the gentleman at the bar.

He smiled and tipped his golf cap, which was polite enough, but being a single woman alone, I began feeling uncomfortable because I wasn’t there for the pick-up scene. I focused on the hostess as she arranged a table for 7 at my request.

As this man turned to face me, I thought I knew what was coming and hoped I could excuse myself politely, but I was about to be surprised. “Would you like my seat?” he said.

“Thank you,” I replied with a friendly smile, “But I’m waiting for my friends…

He introduced himself as Mike and surprisingly, this late-40-something guy was quite an open book. He talked about his contracting business, a recent golf trip with his buddies, and how his third wife and teenage son “hated him.”

Since I, too, had been through a divorce, I felt his pain. He told me he used to be Catholic, used to love serving Mass as an altar boy, and referred to that time in his youth as “the good ole’ days.”

I briefly shared with him my own divorce how it was my faith that gave me the strength to get through it all. Just then, my friends showed up. I thanked Mike for the conversation and said goodbye, still feeling sad for him.

A few minutes later, Mike unexpectedly approached our table.

“I want you to know that I am jealous,” he said with an awkward laugh. “I’m jealous because you have your faith.” Everyone at the table was quiet and attentive.

“I was supposed to be a priest,” he said, thumbing his own chest. “I’ve known that since I was a kid.” His eyes welled-up a bit. “But I got a girl pregnant and well, I haven’t been back to church since. You don’t know how lucky you all are.”