Terry's Groove Gets Interrupted

So Terry lost her groove guy and now she's waiting to be an ex-wife. In case your not up to speed, Terry McMillan the 53-year-old author of chick lit classics 'Waiting to Exhale' and 'How Stella Got her Grove Back' is divorcing her 30-something Jamaican husband, Jonathan Plummer. After more than six years of marriage he says he's gay. And he wants money. Terry says he used her to become a U.S. citizen and doesn't deserve the cash.

Apparently, he thinks he deserves the dough because he gave her something to write about. Apparently Mr. Plummer has learned all about divorce American heterosexual style. As a fellow sister scorned, I know I should be sympathetic, but I'm just not feeling the love.

First of all Terry, be happy. You didn't lose out to another woman. It was an unfair fight. Like a middle weight fighting a heavy weight. Like Michelle Wie playing against Tiger Woods. Like Paris Hilton trying to beat Jeopardy's Ken Jennings in a Geography Bee. It's an unfair competition. Ask any of us who have been dumped for another woman. We'd have rather have lost out to a guy.

I tried rationalizing my romantic rejection by fantasizing that the home-wrecker had gorgeous blonde supermodel hair, a fabulously taut body and spoke of true love with lips so luscious Angelina Jolie would be jealous. I couldn't possibly compete. I might have left me for her too. But no, in reality her butt was the size of Texas, she had stringy brown hair and I'm pretty sure I saw vipers slithering from her mouth when she spoke. Believe me honey, I would have rather have been tossed aside for Truman Capote.

Now Terry, I know you're probably feeling a little bit embarrassed about that whole "Stella.." roman a clef since it was inspired by your story book romance with the boy toy who turned out to be Mr. So Very Very Wrong. Okay, you married a guy who you thought was that very fine Taye Diggs and he turned out to be that Queer Eye guy Caron Kressley. Cheer up. You got a best seller out of it and a boffo movie. Gals like me are lucky to end up with the brown couch, the partially broken food processor and no credit card debt. And for goodness sakes Terry, Angela Bassett played you in the movie. If I'm lucky I'd get Tracey Ullman impersonating me in one of those bizarre get-ups with rhinestone glasses.

And Terry your personal turmoil can't be bad for sales of the new book, "The Interruption of Everything." Readers will be pouring through it like they're searching for the DaVinci Code. And you know that stodgy Booknotes guy is gonna wanna dish. Plus, you get to say really nasty things about your soon to be ex in respectable environments, network TV, classy book stores and libraries. No Maury tabloid TV cat fights for you! Meanwhile, most of us lovelorn gals are limited to kvetching to captive audiences of told-you-so Moms and friends while snarfing down buckets of Heath Bar Crunch.

So Terry, while your groove may have been interrupted by everything, you get to do something that most of us jilted gals can only dream about. You get to publish a book. The best revenge is the power of the pen. And maybe they could get Halle Berry that wouldn't be bad either.

By Stephanie Becker