[ The following is angry.  If you don't like anger and angst, don't read it.  But it's shit like this that's a big part of my problem. ]

     Back in 1999, I had some pretty bad misfortune fall on me in a foreign country.  I met a woman.  I liked her.  She was hot.  She was fun.  Everything else in my life was turning sour in that damn country.  In February of 2000, I moved in with her, and she helped me out for a few months while I got everything back on track.
     I met and loved her family.  We were all supportive of one another.

     By June, things started getting weird.  She started getting emotional.  By July, she was completely bonkers.  In August, she finally went to the doctor.  In September, she had surgery.  I felt so bad for her.  And on the 29th, I married her.

     Things got better.

     We both had good jobs and were able to do pretty much whatever we wanted.

     We took out an insured loan of $27,000 so we could have a bit more cash onhand.  With the insurance, it became a $30K loan.  We needed a refrigerator, which was around $8,000 in that shitty country.  We could have afforded it in a couple months, but needed it then.  And then, for some reason, I wanted her to meet my family.  We took a very, very long trip through the United States and Canada and back to the Hell country we lived.

     In May of 2001, we moved to a new house.  And that’s when the trouble started.

     She became distant and quiet, and completely and totally demanding.  She was angry at me 24-7.  I didn’t know what to do. 

     After watching 9-11 not happen on local television, hearing radio personalities go on about how we deserved it, getting a ration of shit for trying to buy cigarettes on multiple occasions and having a Prime Minister ensure her country that “The events in the United States have no influence on New Zealand,” I decided I needed to be back in the United States.  
     It was a long process.  In February, I had to beat the shit out of a Consulate guard just to get in and keep my appointment.  Everything kept getting worse.
     I lost my job in February because my sorry-ass South African bosses didn’t want to pay salary or bonus or wage increases or anything else, and decided that in order to reduce costs, they’d claim that I was stealing intellectual property.  A real joke, being that I was Senior Developer — the only developer — for that company.  
     Fortunately, our $30K loan was paid down to just over $8,000, and being insured and my just having lost my job, that was pretty well done.  The policy clearly stated that they would pay my payments for a full year in the event that I got divorced or lost my job.  It didn’t have all the fun stipulations that most do, and I’d clearly lost my job.  However, they were unhelpful.  They ignored the insurance policy and started threatening and cussing me out.
     I told them to stuff it.  It was their $8,000 to pay, and I had a signed contract to prove it.

     Finally, in June of 2002, we made it back.

     We lived in DC then.  I had a pretty cushy Government job and she was teaching school at a prestigious-yet-shitty institution who didn’t pay their staff even half of what their public school counterparts made.  It was disgraceful.
     Still, my wife was distant, angry and demanding.

     I had a six-figure job offer in Knoxville, my hometown.  And so, in June of 2004, we moved back here.  My six-figure job was a lie.  Everything was.  I started another business and kept us afloat until just after Christmas of 2005.
     Things had stayed the same between us.  She was distant, angry, demanding.  There was no budgeting with her.  On top of that, she took a part-time job working full-time hours as a substitute teacher at a school, and the school board would make no exceptions for her foreign experience.  She wouldn’t get her stuff together to get a full teacher’s license, and by this time, she wouldn’t drive anywhere.  My responsbility to drive her around, to and from work, and I’m trying to work, but dear God, would she take the bus?
     Eventually, she wouldn’t leave the house anymore… just sat there barking out orders from the couch, and spending every single dime we had if she went out with my mother.

     They were best of friends.

     In January of 2006, I felt so much pressure that I was about to kill myself.  I told her… and she responded with 847 more reasons why I should go ahead.

     I pulled myself together.  I told that I wanted a divorce and that I wanted her to get out.

     Back to New Zealand for her, a one way ticket.  Instead of feeling pain immediately, I felt a weight lifted from my shoulders.  Not long after, the depression hit.  If I couldn’t keep my promises to her, what good was I?

     By April and May, it was pretty obvious that talking to her was like talking to a wall.  I stopped for a long time.  I sent her final divorce papers in June, and she never bothered to sign them.  She said she never received them.
     In July, the National Bank of New Zealand started letting her have it good and hard claiming that we owed them $23K.  I sent her the papers for the loan, along with previous balance statements.  Open and shut, right?
     By then, I was well into a major depression.

     In November, she came back to pick up some of her things.  I thought we could at least part as friends.  She apologized for the way she treated me, and that was good enough for me.  I spent every dime I had making sure she was comfortable on the trip, as Mommy Dearest dropped her on me and took off.  She signed the divorce papers before we left Knoxville.
     For a short time, I thought we talked about reconciliation, but apparently I was incorrect, as was blatently pointed out.  I filed the papers, but the property settlement was kicked out.  I sent her an ammended property settlement to sign, and she never bothered to respond to it or the emails I sent her.
     I mailed back more of her things in 2007, all to no avail.

     Eventually, her phone was disconnected.  All of her mail was returned.

     In January of 2008, I filed another divorce, having been two years (which showed abandonment) hoping that I could finally get on with my life.  The Wildcat and I had plans.

     In March of 2008, she finally responded … that I owed her $27,000.

     After supporting her for four years and having her spend every single dime of every single paycheck, regardless that we had to pay rent or insurance or… Yeah, stress, when you have to magically pull money out of your ass for four years because your wife is too lazy to get off her butt, get her license and actually make a decent wage for a change.

     But oh, I owe her $27K.  And I still don’t have a divorce.

     Yeah, I’m still married.

     And while she’s sitting around in New Zealand making $50K a year — about fucking time — I owe her $27K when I made us far more than that for six years solid… And me, I can’t afford to pay attention.

     Right this second, I’m thinking that since we’re still married, maybe I should just move back to New Zealand and move in with her.  I mean, what could she do about it?  I mean, she is my wife, isn’t she?

     So seriously, Mommy Dearest’s bestest little buddy — GET OVER IT AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!