“everyone I know
goes away
in the end…”
— Nine Inch Nails, Hurt

     On March 31st, 2006, I put my ex-wife on a one-way plane to New Zealand never to return.

     She had treated me like crap for so long, making me drive her around when she was perfectly capable of driving herself… spending every dime I made like we had an endless supply of money… and being generally pissed off 100% of the time.
     Of course, to others, she was sweet and personable, but when she made best friends with the woman who she knows abused me my entire life (my mother), that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

     In January of 2006, I told her, “I have all of the responsibility here, none of the benefits, and I’m spending so much time taking care of you that I don’t have time to work.  I have to quit in the morning to take you to your job that pays less than fast food, and then stop in the afternoon to pick you up and listen to you whine and complain until it’s bedtime, at which point, one of us sleeps on the couch.  I am, at this point, under so much pressure that I am ready to kill myself.”
     Instead of understanding, she gave me 847 more reasons to go ahead and do it.
     And I told her to get out.

     And so, I gave her divorce papers which she never signed. 

     In November of 2006, I had her sign them again, notarized, and tried to file them.  However, there was a mistake.  So the process started over in February, all to no avail.  She wouldn’t return anything or attempt to make any contact regarding them.  This went on for a year.

     In February of 2008, I got an attorney to do it. 

     And so, today, September 3rd, 2008, my divorce was finalized after giving her ample time through all proper legal channels to do “something,” and she refused.  The same way she refused to get her teacher’s license, fill out her papers for her drivers’ license (I had to do it for her), etc. etc. etc. 
     The woman would simply take no initiative whatsoever to try and better any circumstance whatsoever.

     And so … I’m finally single.  Finally free to marry my Wildcat, who’s been a better wife the last year than the ex.

     Now it’s just a matter of getting her here.

     When I was much younger, a friend of mine — a customer — was married to this guy who used to beat the crap out of her pretty much on a daily basis.  I hated that guy … just because I felt he was a total pansy to beat on a woman like that.

     One day, I went over there working on their computers, and he delivered a fist to her face while she was sitting at the kitchen table, just a few feet away from me.  She fell on me.
     I beat his sorry ass.
     And guess what I got for the privilege?

     Yep …

     Her ass beating on me.

     A couple years later, I went over there, and he hit again.  Right in front of me.  But he didn’t stop there… He picked up an iron skillet and began beating her in the head over and over…

     While their kids watched…

     So I carried one of the kids to their bedroom and put him in his crib, and talked the other two into going to bed early.

     Then I proceeded to destroy his sorry ass.

     It was fun…

     Beat him within an inch of death, in fact.

     But then, I turned back to her, still struggling to get up off the kitchen floor.  I screamed at her for being so stupid.  And in retrospect, I shouldn’t have.
     But the questions I was screaming … How could she put her kids through that?  How could let them watch all of that?  What kind of mother was she?

     I called another friend of mine, who lived close, and together, we packed her stuff and drove her out of state to live with her mother.

     She hates me, still.

     And this is precisely why Cops don’t like taking Domestic Violence calls… Those women most always seem to defend the bastards who put them through the most Hell…

     But at some point, with a lot of caring and understanding, they do get over it.

     Or, at least, you hope they do.

     [ 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!

My friend Jane has been having serious relationship issues lately. Almost to the point that her head is turning all the way around like that possessed chick in The Exorcist.

After much thought (and actual research) on why relationships fail, I’ve come to the conclusion that the sister just needs to settle down, grow up and learn to deal with real life problems as they come at her.

Jane spent several days in a highly agitated state. Being around her as much as I am, I started to be concerned that something might be wrong in her relationship with the fella she’s supposed to marry soon. So, being a good friend, I asked.

She started explaining that for the most part, her relationship with Pete was awesome. They have alot in common (love of music, riding around with no real destination, talking about silly stuff, family values… you get the picture). She then went on to tell me that even though she knows he loves her and he does so much to show it by spoiling her rotten and giving her everything she could want, that there is something really important missing. Intimacy.

At first it appeared that she was troubled by the decrease in or lack of sex in their relationship. But after listening to her and thinking about what she had been saying, it was clear to me that it was more than her being horny and him ignoring it. There was something more to it.

In a relationship, there has to be a balance in every aspect of the relationship otherwise the whole world may seem like its coming to an end. Everything just has to be n’sync.

The emotional needs of both partners must be met by showing compassion and allowing the other to see into the heart of the partner.

The social needs of both partners must be met by doing things together. Whether taking a road trip, going out with friends or sitting on the front porch having social hour.

The intellectual needs must be met by discussions that run deep. As long as the two can discuss THEIR personal views together it doesn’t matter what the discussion is about. Communication is key in keeping each other interested.

Now, all of the above needs were being met for Jane. But the one need that threw the balance in Jane’s world out of sync was closing in for a kill in the relationship. So, she was naturally falling apart at the seams trying to figure out what to do. She couldn’t figure out why Pete was pushing her away when it came to her physical (sexual) needs.

I asked her if it was just lack of sex. As it turns out she just needs that intimate closeness. The hand on her leg when they are in the car. Getting naked and snuggling close with his arms wrapped around her, without the expectation of sex.

My suggestion to Jane was… talk about it. Make sure you both know what the problem(s) is/are. Many times there is a reason for said problem. Sometimes it takes some tears. Sometimes we have to say what we feel, even if it hurts.

Fact is, it takes work to maintain a relationship. It takes attention to detail in every aspect of that relationship to keep it going strong. If you can’t talk about what might be bothering you and you can’t talk it out, there might just be a bigger problem.

As for my friend Jane, she went to Pete and made sure that the lines of communication were wide open.  Hopefully, they can talk about whatever they have going on and get things on track.

Mother-in-Law. Those three words hyphenated together have somehow become the monster in the closet. Simple meaning from the dictionary: mother of one’s spouse.

If it were only that simple, huh?

Granted, I am a Mother-in-Law now that my beautiful, eldest daughter has taken that plunge into marital bliss. *eyes rolled waaay back into the head*

Presently, my view is that I am the most wonderful, giving, caring, patient, non-homicidal mother-in-law out there. I do it for my baby girl. Otherwise I’m sure I’d be a horn sprouting, pitchfork shaking monsters hiding and waiting for that boy to come around screw something up.
But, not me. I assure you.

My ex-husband’s mother was the devil reincarnated in female form. I kid you not. She was scary right down to the evil glint in her eye and forked tongue. She would aspire to purposely make me feel like I was treading on thin ice. That was generally verbal. But did she stop there? No, she is Korean. Everything she would cook was flavored up with just about enough fresh chopped red-pepper to kill a two ton rhino. “Takey Diva some that”.

Sure, thanks. Let me get right on eating that. I love my gastrointestinal tract to be lit up enough that when I fart, I shoot flames across the room.

Looking back, I should have taken it as a sign. He has never, nor will he ever be anything but a mama’s boy. She buys his pants, his shirts, he boxers and socks. She does his laundry. No wonder the man moved back in with her when before the ink on our divorce papers was even dry.

What kind of man was she raising? I’m not all to sure about it, but I know she was in definite competition with me for his affection.

Good for her though. I got out of having to wash his vine ripened socks.

The above thoughts bring me to the following point, which was inspired by my favorite rag-mag.

Could one actually live with one’s mother-in-law on a more or less permanent basis??

I for one, would never even consider living with my significant other’s mother. Even if she was an angel just like me, I couldn’t do it. Two alpha-females in one house is a design for disaster.

I’m just glad to know that Tom and Katie are going through it too. Tom’s mom and other family members all live in the house with the happy couple.

Is Katie going to be able hang on?? She has to deal with Mr. Cruise, and his mother.

My thought is: No way!! I give them another year at the most if THE MOTHER IN LAW doesn’t get the boot.

Isn’t this where … we came in?
— Pink Floyd, The Wall 

     A few years ago, a friend of mine and I became pretty close.  Circumstances weren’t exactly ideal for either of us.  But in her absence, I did what I’ve always done: ignored it all, pushed it all down and convinced myself it didn’t matter.

     Yesterday, after returning from Savannah, I realized just how much it did matter, actually.  Hearing from her again after all of these years managed to keep me distracted and despondent throughout most of today.

     Tonight, we talked on the phone for a while … a lot of lighter subjects, interspersed with long, uncomfortable pauses caused by deep thought and an inability to express the range of emotions we were both going through.
     But all in all, it was good.  Eventually, we got out what we needed to say to each other.

     When you break a bone and it doesn’t fit together just right when it starts to heal, it can hurt you for years.  The only way to fix it is to break it again, and set it correctly.
     Relationships are the same way.  Sometimes you’ve just gotta rip away the scabs and scar tissue.
     At least then, it only hurts for a little while.

     Friends are always a good thing.  Love ya, Cait.

     Here’s the obligatory holiday photo…

     I missed the Thanksgiving post because I was busy enjoying myself during what was certainly the event that I was most thankful for in 2006.  Miranda and I spent some good, quality time together discussing everything that went wrong during our marriage, and making our apologies where they were applicable.
     Sure, divorce is divorce, and it is the end, but it’s always better when you can part as friends.  And hey, everybody can use a few more friends.  With that, we have all the closure we need to go ahead and get on with our lives.
     So, Miranda, my friend, I hope all of you on your side of the world, and the rest, have wonderful and memorable Holidays. *toasts*

     To my family, hey…  *toasts*

     To Mr. & Ms. Swanky, here’s to you guys.  You know why.  *toasts*

     To the Bloggers I’ve talked to, met, hung out with and e-mailed over the last year, kudos, and here’s to a great new year.  *toasts*

     To my customers & clients, we’ve had a good year through all our ups and downs.  I truly appreciate the business, loyalty and reciprocity we’ve all achieved this year.  *toasts*

     To my new neighbors, who’ve been great to hang out with and talk to the second half of the year. *toasts*

     To my friends, both new and old, thanks for the wild times and here’s to us making a few more. *toasts*

     To my Pirate Chicks (possessive little bastard I am), certainly, you girls have certainly made my year.  You’re every one individual and unique, some loud and some quiet, some bold and some shy, some aggressive and some passive, but I know damn well when the shit hits the fan, every damn one of you would be right there with me — and for any of you, I’d do the same.
     You’ve made the good times better, and the bad times bearable, if not hilarious.  *hugs* I love every damn one of ya.  *toasts*

     It just wouldn’t be like me to get all sappy and not leave something sarcastic.

     So, to all the ladies, a special gift, courtesy of NBC…

     Strangely enough, and some holier-than-me might discount it, but I’ve read the Bible about ten times over. Each time, I find something different — something that strikes a chord.
     So, tonight, in my insomnia, I have to wonder … Why was King Lemuel so important to devote an entire chapter of Proverbs?

Pro 31:1 The words of king Lemuel; the oracle which his mother taught him.
Pro 31:2 What, my son? and what, O son of my womb? And what, O son of my vows?
Pro 31:3 Give not thy strength unto women, Nor thy ways to that which destroyeth kings.
Pro 31:4 It is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink wine; Nor for princes to say, Where is strong drink?
Pro 31:5 Lest they drink, and forget the law, And pervert the justice due to any that is afflicted.
Pro 31:6 Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, And wine unto the bitter in soul:
Pro 31:7 Let him drink, and forget his poverty, And remember his misery no more.
Pro 31:8 Open thy mouth for the dumb, In the cause of all such as are left desolate.
Pro 31:9 Open thy mouth, judge righteously, And minister justice to the poor and needy.
Pro 31:10 A worthy woman who can find? For her price is far above rubies.
Pro 31:11 The heart of her husband trusteth in her, And he shall have no lack of gain.
Pro 31:12 She doeth him good and not evil All the days of her life.
Pro 31:13 She seeketh wool and flax, And worketh willingly with her hands.
Pro 31:14 She is like the merchant-ships; She bringeth her bread from afar.
Pro 31:15 She riseth also while it is yet night, And giveth food to her household, And their task to her maidens.
Pro 31:16 She considereth a field, and buyeth it; With the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.
Pro 31:17 She girdeth her loins with strength, And maketh strong her arms.
Pro 31:18 She perceiveth that her merchandise is profitable: Her lamp goeth not out by night.
Pro 31:19 She layeth her hands to the distaff, And her hands hold the spindle.
Pro 31:20 She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; Yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.
Pro 31:21 She is not afraid of the snow for her household; For all her household are clothed with scarlet.
Pro 31:22 She maketh for herself carpets of tapestry; Her clothing is fine linen and purple.
Pro 31:23 Her husband is known in the gates, When he sitteth among the elders of the land.
Pro 31:24 She maketh linen garments and selleth them, And delivereth girdles unto the merchant.
Pro 31:25 Strength and dignity are her clothing; And she laugheth at the time to come.
Pro 31:26 She openeth her mouth with wisdom; And the law of kindness is on her tongue.
Pro 31:27 She looketh well to the ways of her household, And eateth not the bread of idleness.
Pro 31:28 Her children rise up, and call her blessed; Her husband also, and he praiseth her, saying:
Pro 31:29 Many daughters have done worthily, But thou excellest them all.
Pro 31:30 Grace is deceitful, and beauty is vain; But a woman that feareth Jehovah, she shall be praised.
Pro 31:31 Give her of the fruit of her hands; And let her works praise her in the gates. 

     I know this is a bit of stirring that’ll annoy some people, but …

     You drink, and offer the same, when you feel you’re at the end.
     Your wife puts in — and puts out.  You’re either partners, or not.  Personally, I don’t think it’s too much to ask.
     And at the End … You certainly need a damn drink.

     Even without the above, treating women with respect isn’t difficult to me.

     Man, it’s 4AM and I’m still wide awake.  And I mean, mow the yard with a push-mower awake.

     It’s just not right.

     I’ve had this insomnia for … well … yeah, just more than a year.  Can’t sleep, no matter how hard I try.  Maybe it started as the restlessness of impending doom.
     Lovely people like to tell me, “It’s guilt that keeps you up at night!”  But it certainly isn’t guilt, and I just tell them, “Thanks!”

     Now, it’s the same thing.  No guilt.  More frustration. 
     A couple of weeks ago, I was prescribed Lunesta.  Nice one.  Calms my mind.  Makes me speak in coherent sentences.  Makes me dream, and remember.  I like that.
     But it sure as Hell doesn’t put me to sleep.

     I need sleep.

     Real sleep.