Thursday, September 30, 2010

The Ex

I read a book a while back, after becoming engaged and just before marriage.  The book was called Surviving the Ex Wife.  Never in my life did I think I would want or NEED to read a book like this ... NEVER.  The author places ex wives into four categories.  I only remember the one I needed (and still need) to know: the Psycho.  She was toeing the tightrope of relative sanity and partial common sense. Wavering from time to time, about to go, arms out to the side ... but most always catching herself.  Our engagement apparently snapped the rope under her feet and into the depths of anger and bitterness she went.

Interestingly, we were served with papers demanding more money for GOD KNOWS WHAT while she, let us call her"Scarlett", sat on her fat ass NOT working and living off child support immediately after my then fiance told her of our engagement.   During this particular gold-digging expedition and planting of evil seeds in my young step-daughters' heads, the judge decided Scarlett should go to work and AT LEAST attempt some semblance of independence since she had never held a full time job in her life.  Instead, she claimed she needed yet another degree, a masters, to do so and off to school she went on my husband's dime.  FOR THREE YEARS!  Not a day did she work during the schooling, not a day after graduation until another two years goes by.

Now every year on my birthday, Scarlett kindly sends the gift that keeps on giving: court papers.  Our wedding gift came two weeks before the wedding, court papers.  His birthday gift?  Yes, court papers.  7 years divorced and Miss Scarlett is not only engaged, but STILL looking for more free money.  This is above and beyond the child support and alimony paid to her every month via auto transfer (she has his wages garnished via the state).  The amount she is handed is more than most people I know make by working full time.  This is also in addition to the income from the job the court forced her to find - backfire for abusing the system?  I like to think so.  If Miss Scarlett needs money, she should start by downgrading her luxury SUV, lay off the $200 shoes/jeans/etc and eating out/having take out almost every meal.

What would be great, but make all too much sense, is if she actually used the child support for the CHILDREN.  Use it to pay for her half of the braces they need, half their activities, half their medical bills,  you know, like the agreement says. Don't get me started on the lack of a college fund on her side.  It is not our job to pay her bills even though the money we give her would certainly cover all of them and then some.  So why do you need more?  Do you want us to pay for the wedding?  Or do you just really need that interaction with him because you can't truly let go?

Whew!
Vent for the day - remember, you aren't alone!

1 comment:

  1. Scarlett sounds like a rotten peach.

    I am in a similar situation.

    We have all created routines as a way to survive. We walk about the house like zombies on a mission. If we did not have these routines we would all have to interact and with interaction comes disrespect from the step-kids and a complete and total lack of support from the husband, let us call him "Dumbass."

    His first wife, let us call her "BitchFace" has turned her two boys (9-14) against me. Each day I feel like I am in a scene from Children of The Corn. The disrespect has become progressively worse. I tell Dumbass. He blames me. Somehow everything is always my fault.

    BitchFace believes in "free-living". Hippie compound type stuff. No rules for the kids. I picture them swinging like monkeys in the living room, throwing poop at one another when they are her house, with her on the couch passed out from eating too much pie.

    I grew up with rules. All my actions, whether good or bad had rewards or consequences.

    Dumbass always sides with the monkeys. He is afraid to discipline them. I don't know if he is afraid of losing their love or if he is afraid of Bitchface.

    What I do know is that I am near the end. The tragedy of the this whole mess is the kids. As bad as they treat me, I still have them in my heart. Thus, my anchor. They have me anchored. What will happen to them? Left with Dumbass and Bitchface.

    Life ...

    I finally understand that Calgon commercial (take me away)

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