When I was going through my divorce, others often felt the need to tell me about their own divorces. I heard stories of couples signing the paperwork and then going to have coffee. Some spoke of marriages that quietly faded and negotiations that barely sullied the mediator’s desk. I encountered women at the gym who whispered over sweaty shoulders, “Just wait until you get his money; it’ll all be worth it then,” as though a divorce was some get-rich-quick scheme I entered willingly. And all of this was years before the advent of “conscious uncoupling;” I think if I had caught wind of that phrase, I would have run off to some desert island where there are no lawyers.