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It wasn’t an easy decision after going through all that, but I decided to take my husband back. People misunderstand me when I tell them that. They assume he walked out or was cheating or something and either he begged to come back or I begged him to come back. But there was no begging involved.

He was under warranty. He didn’t meet the “fitness for use” requirement. He wasn’t broken exactly, but he certainly didn’t live up to his promise either. I wasn’t having it.

So, I packed him up carefully, in the original packaging that he came in—a blue suit and a red power tie which I had stored in the basement—and brought him back to the bar where I found him. The bartender looked surprised but he shouldn’t have. Because, in the end it was clear that the bartender knew Herb better that I ever did.

I ordered a scotch and soda for Herb. When it arrived, Herb, who had been looking downtrodden, perked up and drank greedily. The feeling of relief that drifted over me was powerful. This would be an amicable split.

Before stepping out I thanked the bartender. I left a really big tip.