If only. But it's not up to me. Had a court date scheduled on Monday -- some lawyer thing materialized, and it had to be rescheduled. Another month. All I can do is wait -- and STBX doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry. Which isn't surprising, since her strategy is to out-spend me.
The worst part is that STBX continues to need -- maybe even crave -- my attention in some pathological way. I let the kids rummage through the old pictures the other day to pick out the ones they liked; next day I have an e-mail from the new Mouthpiece -- STBX called her lawyer at 5 a.m., whining that I was "obviously" trashing the place and throwing all of the community property away. So what's up with that? asks the Mouthpiece. And of course I have to call and explain, and she has to write and explain, and that little bit of business sets me back nearly $400.
She won't stop e-mailing or texting. What's my problem? Why don't I want to associate with her? She's so happy now and has a new love in her life, and why don't I just get on board with the program? Yeeeeeahhhh, okay then, 'buh-bye.
So I really don't need that kind of thing coming to my personal phone, and I get a pay-go phone dedicated to the purpose of making and receiving any and all emergency messages involving the kids. She runs whining to the lawyer again: He'll never let me talk to my children ever again now! And there goes another $400. Then, as if to make the point, she refuses to use it even after her lawyer tells her to stop making so much trouble for everyone.
But to demonstrate her commitment to being a pain in the a**, she multi-texts my personal number until finally there's no alternative but to b*tch-slap her telephonically. Mercifully, she's been silent since, but only after I pointed out to her -- quoting her most recent e-mail (which she hates to have me do) -- that because she so "truly and deeply hates" me, it would probably be best for the kids that she minimize her exposure to the object of her true and deep hatred. So please use the emergency number when and if there's an emergency, and if we're both lucky there'll never be an emergency, and the phone will never be used, and I'll never have to hear a word from her again, and that'll be Just O-kizay with me.
What is so hard about this for her to understand? She asked me once -- though I never answered -- did I ever foresee a time when the two of us would just get along like chums?
Welllllllll. "Ever" is a pretty long time.
But if I had to guess, I'd guess, "no."
I mean -- honestly! Why would I want that? You fantasized about, planned, and carried out an affair. Then you lied, lied, and lied some more. Then you declared you were writing me out of your life.
Okay. Fine. But for f*ck's sake, live with the consequences of your decisions -- don't expect me to ameliorate them and somehow exonerate you from whatever passes for any kind of self-reflection in your twisted world by "still being friends."
Because friends don't do that sh*t to each other.
I tell you, I don't get it. How is it my responsibility to fix the outcome of what she did to her satisfaction?
And why won't she just close the friggin' deal? Wouldn't you want to? New life, new love, yada yada yada -- surely I can't be so fantabulous that it's worth all this effort just to keep me connected.
You said you were done -- be done!
(Which is a whole other thang -- why, having had 100% of someone in your life, would anyone be willing to settle for whatever tangential little scrap-heap role s/he was willing to assign you after a D? I mean, what's that supposed to be -- some kind of consolation prize? Well, you can't be married to me or love me or have me love you anymore, but at least you can be available for me to pester whenever I've got nothing else to do.... Yeah, yeah, yeah, "good for the kids." Ain't buying it. Me looking like a milquetoast isn't good for the kids.)
