My Wife My Ex-Wife and ME!

Denny's introduction is the whole pitch: he calls himself 'the only man dumb enough to get his wife and ex-wife in a studio to do a podcast.' The roll call around him is just as direct. Amanda gives her name as the wife, Jams as the ex-wife, and Brayden takes a turn too. So every topic lands in a room that holds two separate chapters of one man's married life. The sound is crowded and loud. People talk across each other, swear freely and tease in ways that get personal, as when a double-chin joke comes up in the middle of a question about honesty. One recording begins with a call for quiet, a check that they are live, and a question about who is monitoring Facebook. Some episodes are built around games. A would-you-rather round asks whether a partner should always tell the blunt truth or stay kind and sometimes sugarcoat, and the answers turn into confessions about who made whom cry, and how recently. Other voices turn up too; Caleb and Brittany are among those answering in that round. In 'Entering Jams. No, Sicko, Her MIND!', a personality questionnaire puts Jams on the spot about to-do lists, insecurity and texting, and the others argue with her answers. Honesty keeps coming back. In 'Lies Men Tell', the room splits over whether men lie out of self-preservation or to spare a partner's feelings, and the old question of whether a dress is flattering gets a hearing. The companion episode about women moves to age, and to how much of a partner's sexual history anyone really wants to know. Not everything is played for laughs. 'When Co Parenting Is Equal Should Money Be Too' turns into a sharp argument over a 50-50 arrangement. One voice asks why an even split should mean supplementing an ex's income. Another answers that a decade spent building someone else's career leaves a parent without one of their own, and the question of whether children go without heat or food hangs over both. Household friction gets aired as well, including a blow-by-blow complaint about someone coming home, mocking a tired video-game break and yelling at everyone about sticks in the yard. The sign-off has its own small ritual: episodes point to a site and social handles under the name Thank God Cancer Saved Our Divorce, then pause over the joke that the acronym lines up. For a first listen, the would-you-rather episode shows the group at play, and the co-parenting money episode shows the same group under strain.