What the hell does he have to be so angry about? He cheated. He knew the rules from day one. We went to pre-martial counseling. We took the personality tests and did the harmonious relationship comparisons and everything they had at the time to determine if we would be a successful marriage. If he feigned his answers, that’s not my problem. If he said what he had to say at the time because marrying me proved some triumph for him that he didn’t exactly think through, that’s not my problem. If he regretted his promises, that’s not my problem. We were both in our 30s. We were both reasonably intelligent. There was no shotgun wedding. There was no unplanned child. No one was under duress.
The deal was laid out in irrefutable terms. Cheating was always listed as the number one deal-breaker.
Always. Always, always, always.
If anyone should be angry, it should be me. He broke the deal, I didn’t. Now, I’m told by my attorney that the husband is consumed with rage. That his attorney is having trouble dealing with him. That he is refusing to agree to any settlement that is anything but nothing. That a trial will cost a whole lot of money. How is any of that my problem? He will settle on what the judge tells him he will settle on. Even saying that makes me nervous as hell because I don’t want to sound cocky and I don’t want to jinx myself by being presumptuous. Confidence has never been allowed. But come on, how do you think you are going to be married to a stay-at-home-mother for twenty years and avoid giving up some of your pension? That bastard was able to get up every morning and further his career because he had a fucking domestic servant at home seeing to all of his needs. His mind didn’t have to be clouded with what he was going to eat or wear the next day. He didn’t have to worry how his child was getting to school, getting her homework done, or filling out the enormous beginning of the year school packet, and that’s the logistics, there is the whole emotional side of raising a child. The bastard barely knew what school she went to or what time school started and ended. In addition, he got it all at a discounted rate, because I do not have an insatiable appetite for materialism. I am a minimalist at heart.
Do you not think that at some point in twenty years that I didn’t have an opportunity to fuck another man? That I didn’t have the desire to fuck another man? How did I deal with any of that, including days or weeks that I wanted to stab my husband in the damn neck for doing something insanely stupid and irresponsible (like not managing money properly, or not attending a proper school when its was paid for by the government? I mean honestly, who didn’t see the ridiculousness of pursing an ITT degree. Surely, I wasn’t the only academic snob that saw the pitfalls of that type of “education.”) How did I deal with his insensitivity about having to drive each day, twice a day to take our child to a decent school for eight years. (I commuted over 50 miles a day because he needed to live close to his job, which was an area with horrible schools.)? I avoided cheating by remembering and honoring my commitment. That’s how I avoided cheating.
I stuck with the damn plan.
See, there is a nice little societal conditioning that places the onus of proper behavior on me. That is, the threat of using the trope of the bitter ex-wife (or in our case, the soon-to-be-ex-wife), the scorned woman, hell has no fury and all of that against me. I have been told from the beginning that any resentful actions on my part would work against me in the divorce. That I must demonstrate myself as a pillar of live and let live.
I don’t give a fuck if he is angry. What the hell does he have to be so angry about? Fucker. He broke the deal. HE BROKE THE DEAL! All those restraining order requests that he put me through! He tried to get one against me. His mama tried to get one, and his whore tried to get one, twice. I’m quite sure I have PTSD from those attempts. Being dragged into court four times feeling like Cassandra. “I’m not bothering anyone, I’m not bothering anyone, I promise!”
Yet, he is the one full of rage.
Since there is no contact, I can only speculate where the rage is coming from. His mother told the judge, “She ran to a lawyer.” Technically, I didn’t run to a lawyer (whatever that means), but they wouldn’t believe otherwise if I told them that. I met with one lawyer during the period I was suspicious of his activities (while he was still in the house), then I met with a second lawyer the day he left (before I confronted him), and finally, I met with a third lawyer a week after he left (a day before I was served with a restraining order hearing). All of this was about five weeks total. So does five weeks of meeting with lawyers translate into running to a lawyer? I still don’t know what that means. Why is believing that I “ran to a lawyer” something that stuck in his mother’s craw?
He wanted his whore, his mother wanted me out, his oaf of a sister had no respect for me, so what’s the problem? I’m divorcing him! Isn’t that what his actions indicate that he wanted?
Why is he so angry?
What I have to do, is not give a damn about his anger and get my money so I can take my children and get as far away from his cheating ass that I can reasonably get.