I may have doubts about my marriage, or the relevance of the institution for me, but I do not doubt its importance to countless millions. I've not yet discussed here that I'm an active supporter of same-sex marriage rights.

My community of friends considers it one of the major civil rights issues of our times. My sister is devoting her career to the protection of same-sex marriage in Massachusetts, and in Rob's and my circle of close friends we have two sets of married women, one of which is raising an adopted daughter.

Sickeningly, thirty-seven states define marriage in such a way to prohibit the marriage of same-sex couples. Vermont reversed this trend when in 2000 it enacted civil union legislation for gay and lesbian couples and rejected constitutional amendments limiting marriage.

California followed through on comprehensive domestic partner legislation in 2003, the same year in which Massachusetts legalized gay marriage when its courts ruled it would be discriminatory to not allow same-sex couples to marry. California has now joined Massachusetts in allowing full marriage rights, and Connecticut's Supreme Court ruled in favor of same-sex marriage just last week.

But as with the hetero population, some marriages will end in divorce (same-sex marriage has been legal for such a short time, divorce rates have not yet been established). In Massachusetts, Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders (GLAD), the same organization that fought to gain marriage for all, must now help couples divorce.

Today, I have decided, is the day. I will go downtown, find the courthouse, find a clerk, and start the legal process of divorcing Edgar.

"So you're sad about filing your divorce papers?" asked my roommate, who's been divorced twice.

"I don't know," I replied.

Yeah, I guess I am sad. It's not every day that one places in the public record the fact that one's primary relationship is an abysmal failure. And I guess I'm scared. My health insurance issue remains unresolved, and what if my alcoholic husband goes completely off after getting the news and does... God knows what?

"Remember not to let someone control you with fear," says the Good Doctor. Good advice.

I wonder if there's some protocol for this. When I got married at the courthouse, I had friends and family with me. Today I think I will go alone.

Then, I was careful to wear something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. (Fat lot of good that did, huh?) Today I think it would be smart to wear comfortable shoes.

On my wedding day, my mother carried tissues and used them. I guess I didn't have sense enough to cry then, but today I will bring along something to wipe my eyes and nose with — just in case.

I knew what to do and where to go after my wedding ceremony. Today, the only thing I'm sure of is that what happens afterward mustn't involve alcohol, however tempting the idea might be.

What's the use in setting myself free from a bad marriage to make myself a slave to the drink once more?

For self-protection, I should have a plan. Let's see... I think I'll plan to take my dogs for a good long walk, then have a good long soak. Uplifting, relaxing, and calorie-free!

First, though, I must gather my papers, put on my comfortable shoes, and head downtown. I feel like I'm having an out of body experience, but I also feel sure that I can do this.

A year ago when Sam and I began round three of counseling, our therapist recommended we draw up a contract, a kind of pre re-nup agreement, spelling out our needs and expectations.

Said it's a way to protect yourself — not your finances — the self that is YOU from being swallowed whole by enormity of committing to forever as part of a pair. Fear of losing myself in this, or any other, relationship ever again is huge for me.

She said it could be a detailed as, "If I want to go traveling in Asia alone for two years, it will be alright with you."

I never drafted it. Truth is, back when she was giving that advice I still thought I was in counseling to end my marriage, not to consider how best rebuild it.

What a difference a year makes. Closing in on this reunification, here's the rough draft of my Soul Protection Contract:

-I will always have a room within our house that is mine alone to work, think, be, and sometimes sleep in. It will have a locking door.

-We will have each have one "off duty" weekend every month with no responsibility for parenting, housekeeping, or partnering.

-We will have one free day (or night) every week.

-If someone does not use his/her time, that decision does not affect the other's right to do so without guilt.

-If I have the opportunity to travel for work to a place you would like to go, but can't because of your own work, this will be okay with you.

-When I need space for friends or I need to spend nights-on-end holed up in my room to write and think, and I emerge only help with the kids, this will also be okay.

-We will maintain separate banks accounts in addition to our household account.

-If you want to take an extended road trip with the girls during your summer break (Sam is on a school calendar) and I cannot go because of work, this will be okay with me (and with you.)

Maybe this is the real reason I still haven’t filed for divorce: I just don’t feel like it. It’s probably that lazy gene Jill Brooke wrote about.

For a while there I thought, feared, that Ed’s absence was making my heart grow fonder. But as I listened to myself explaining my delay to my (happily married) friend Melody, I thought: What am I, crazy?

OK, the Ed who never minded interrupting road trips to stop at outlet stores, the one who cooked dinner, the one who rescued animals in distress, he was great. And I guess I can admit missing him.

Unfortunately, he shares a body with that other damned Edgar.

The one who spent the mortgage money on a boat.

The one who didn’t quite understand the difference between a wife and a secretary.

The passed-out-on-the-floor-drunk one I rousted to go with me to the hospital when I thought I was having a heart attack. (Big mistake: I should have gone alone.)

These past few months, my estranged husband really hasn’t been any trouble. And I’d like to keep it that way. I expect, though, that filing those divorce papers will change that.

While whining to myself about how I don’t wanna do it, I had a great idea.

There should be a sunset provision for marriages.

Nolo.com defines a sunset law as one “that automatically terminates the agency or program it establishes unless it is expressly renewed.”

I propose that marriages sink below the horizon after seven years, unless the parties take action to continue them.

I mean, you have to renew your driver’s license every now and then -- less often than you must register your car or dog.

I got a letter in the mail last Friday from an unknown sender. There was one of those official-looking stamps peeking through the window in the envelope, and those tend to strike fear into my heart. (I have been known to take my student loan payments a little less seriously than I should.)

Anyway, after looking around for the nearest stiff drink and realizing that since I'm pregnant I could be tripping over Maker's Mark and it wouldn't do me a damn bit of good, I opened the letter. It was from the city. About my divorce.

Did I not mention I'd filed for divorce? Well, apparently I did.

A long time ago — like, years ago — I went to see a paralegal and paid her half her fee. Then I, uh, forgot. Apparently she actually started proceedings. Unlike me, the city did not forget.

They were writing to tell me that if I didn't complete proceedings within 60 days, they would assume my husband and I had reconciled and would cancel the filing.

Many people have a divorce filed behind their back and are surprised when they receive papers in the mail. But what kind of person is surprised by their own papers? How disorganized do you have to be to forget you filed for divorce?

I will probably get off my ass and pay this woman her $400 and soon enough I will be divorced. Then maybe I'll actually marry my partner of four years, the father of most of my children. Maybe not. Tough to say.

In the meantime, I will sit back and rub the official stamp between my fingers, amazed at my own ineptitude.

I was sitting in the doctor's office yesterday and was privy to the conversation of two women sitting next to me. Okay, I was eavesdropping and eventually I became part of the conversation.

It began like this...

"Well, I just spent half the morning in court with the bastard."

"Why?"

"He is trying to gain full custody."

"Really? On what basis?"

"He doesn't have a basis. He just wants her SSI money."

I think at this point I snorted, which caused both women to look at me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

A large percentage of our community lives off government funds, whether it is family assistance, food stamps, WIC, Social Security or SSI. We also have a high teen pregnancy rate and the "in" thing to do seems to be have as many kids as possible because the more kids you have the more assistance you can get.

The second woman in the conversation is raising a child belonging to her son's girlfriend. Apparently the girlfriend lost custody of the child because of abuse. A second child resides with her and a newborn resides with her mother. Crazy, broken family!!

The first woman and I recognized each other but could not connect where we knew each other from. Her daughter has Downs Syndrome. She was never married to the child's father. The father, now married, is trying to for full custody of this 6-month old child after having no contact with the child thus far. The reason? He wants her money. His father lived with him and recently passed away. There was money connected to that man and now it is gone. It needs to be replaced, and so he is going after the child.

Let's hope the judge can see the truth of this custody challenge for what it is — greed — and make the correct decision in the best interest of the child.

Well, The Dick was here for almost an entire week visiting the kids, and I have to say I was more than ready for him to leave. It wasn't a bad visit, but just being in his presence is very awkward. On the last night he was here, I brought up the subject of "us."

I knew my intentions going in to the conversation but I wasn't letting on. I just simply wanted to hear his. He was quite clear that he wanted a divorce and had no plans on seeking counseling or anything else as he had said in November. He did say that he should start visiting the kids more.

So we discussed divorce and he said he didn't have the money to file at this time and he really didn't want me to do so either. Basically, he doesn't have the money to put up a fight. To that I say, "Too bad."

If he were sending support I might think differently, but he hasn't sent home one penny since leaving. At least a court order would demand support and hold him accountable for it. Jayne turns eighteen shortly so he will not have to pay it for long, but he also won't get off scott free either.

And with the divorce comes some finality to our marriage. I always held true to our vows and when we got married, I had every intention that I would stay married to this man for the rest of my life. I was a child of divorce and never wanted my children to go through many of the same things I went through.

I tried my hardest. Unfortunately, my hardest wasn't good enough.

Since finally deciding to get divorced, I started the process immediately. When it comes to my personal life, I’m not exactly known for my follow-through. But I saw a paralegal on Wednesday.

I don’t know what the rules are in other countries, but in Canada it’s pretty easy to get divorced when both parties are willing. It’s probably going to cost me $800, which makes me feel pretty dumb for waiting so long. Basically, I handed the woman a check for half the cost and I’m on my way to getting divorced.

The weirdest part about the whole thing was getting ready to serve papers. I’ve always thought that when you have papers served on you, it’s a very bad thing. It was really strange calling my ex and letting him know that I was about to do that to him.

I thought the conversation was going to be awkward but in the end, he just asked if he needed to do anything. We figured out that it would be easier for him to come over to my house and confirm that he received the papers than to make sure he was home for when the person came. (Who is that person, by the way? A paper server? A courier?)

All in all, it was pretty anticlimactic. I thought I would feel something — anything. If I felt anything at all, it was feeling like an ass for waiting so long.

So I’m finally going to get divorced. I’ve decided. It’s for real this time. And what led me to this decision, you ask?

I need a passport. My career has finally started to take off, and I’ve been invited to a few conferences in the U.S. I live in Canada, and the rules are changing about the identification you need to cross the border. I used to be able to get away with just my birth certificate, but now they want a passport.

The trouble is, I’ve already changed my name to my new husband’s. My health card, my bank card, my credit cards all use my new name. If I get a passport, they’ll have to use my old name, which belongs to my soon-to-be ex-husband.

This is obviously not acceptable, so I’m getting divorced.

Like I said in last week’s post, my future mother-in-law is starting to get nervous. She’s looking to see her first-born son get married, and I can hardly blame her. All this living in sin and making bastard babies must be stressful on her.

There might be more stupid reasons to get divorced, but if there are, I haven’t heard of them.

It's one of those decisions that once you make it, you better be damn sure you mean it. We've talked about this, but not since shortly after he left. I felt it would be best to bring up the subject again before a processor comes to serve him with papers.

I'd two perfect excuses to call. The first was to check on his grandfather who's in the hospital. I've always liked Clifford — he always treated me very well, as did his grandmother who passed away last year. The second was to tell him one of our close friend's mother passed away this week. I'm sure The Dick hasn't talked with this friend since he left town, so a call would be most appreciated.

After I'd taken care of these two tasks, I began with the real purpose of the call.

"So what are your thoughts on our current situation?" I'm surprised at how casually I transitioned into the line.

"What do you mean? I guess I haven't really thought about it." He stumbled over the words like I had slapped him upside the head.

"I ask because I'm ready to file for divorce and I just didn't want that to come as a surprise."

"You're what? You mean...I didn't think...um...when did...oh, wow..." His voice trailed off.

"We talked about this. I don't ever expect you to come home and you're the one who said that you wanted to start a new life. I'm mostly done with the cancer stuff, so I'm ready to do what comes next on my list. Taking care of this is next. I'm ready to move on with my life."

The words came out so easily, as if I prepared the speech.