Although I always heard that, as an American, I was not to negotiate with terrorists, history has shown that negotiations and deals with them have, over the years, taken place in back rooms behind closed doors. So I guess it’s OK for me to go to my mediation, scheduled for November 19.

Will my marriage end like an art auction where they put the painting on display and bid until its final value is determined? Will it be like surgery without anesthesia? Will it be like a therapy session in a parallel universe where I’ll be the one to not express my feelings? Will I be so f**king nervous that I’ll crack jokes with my lawyer for 8 hours?

In a lighthearted moment soon after learning when the Big Day will be, I Googled the date to see if it bore any significance.  As always, I’m f**ked.